Page 43 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

I decide to go out on a limb and say, “I hear not every wolf wants to be a student here.”

“Well, I’ll admit, my parents were more excited for me to start at Volmasque last year than I was.”

“They wanted you to attend?” I ask, trying to fathom what kind of shifters would willingly push their daughter to come to such a place.

She gives a sad smile. “Not quite. But they work in administration at the Central Blood Bank. They rose as high as they could. They want me to rise higher. Not many jobs for wolves outside being forced to give our blood to vampires, you know.”

I lick my lips, turning over her use of the word ‘forced’. She did not say ‘donate’ or ‘blood donor’, as if she refuses to pretend wolves have a choice.

The fragile warmth I’m starting to feel towards Susie shatters when she adds, “They want me to work at Wintermaw Keep.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. “Do you?” I can’t help but ask.

She glances behind us, checking that Nathaniel has not caught up, before whispering, “Of course not.”

I draw a relieved breath. “What do you want to do?”

That secretive smile is back. “I want to change things.”

“Really?”

“I’d like to go into politics. To advocate for our rights.” Her eyes are agleam, but there’s a sadness to them as she shrugs. “It’s stupid, I know. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt while being here, it’s that you have to make compromises on what you want in order to survive.”

My gaze lingers on her collar, the gold a sickly pink in the torchlight. Perhaps she is not so smitten with the headmaster as she first appeared.

I’m sorry for what he’s doing to you, I want to say as my heart aches, but she’s still a stranger, and Nathaniel is listening.

The steps grow cruder and more uneven the deeper we go. Even the torches become scarcer, sparking to life only every so often along the walls.

“And the dorms are really down here?” I ask.

She must hear the apprehension in my tone, because she adds, “Try to think of it like a den.”

I try. Earth and moss. Fresh winter air. The imagined safety of roots and fur and sleeping bodies pressed close in the dark.

That almost helps, until—

“It used to be a dungeon in Wolf King Bakker’s day,” Nathaniel supplies.

His warm breath touches the back of my neck, and I nearly jump out of my skin to see him lurking behind us.

How did he sneak up on us?

“He kept political prisoners down here. Most of them vampires,” he continues in his smooth drawl. “The castle above us housed his intelligence office. Spies, informants, and such. But these lower levels were reserved for interrogation.” A pause. “Many vampires had their tongues loosened here. And their fangs, sadly, were removed.” His voice stays silken. “We have put these dungeons to far better use now, housing the wolf students of tomorrow. I’m sure you can appreciate the irony.”

“Sure can,” I mutter, sparing no pity for his people. “Nothing says higher education like a refurbished torture chamber.”

“Indeed. Though I would hardly call them refurbished.”

I can hear the amusement in his awful voice. It’s maddening. It makes me want to spin around and give him a piece of my—

Susie squeezes my arm. “You’ll be on the first floor down, with the other first-year wolves. There are two more below for second- and third-years.”

Three years. That is how long I’ll be here.

Not if I can help it.

“What happens to me after graduation?” I ask, directing the question at Nathaniel.