Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 83: Where It Begins

The following morning in Sexton, Ruelle stirred awake on the couch. She rolled onto her side out of habit, only to notice Lucian had already stepped out of the room. There were many days when Lucian left before she woke up, but today it felt like he had left earlier just to avoid her.

"No wonder he despised me," came the muffled words with her face buried in her hands.

Once she got dressed, her hand reached for the scarf, but it paused midair and her fingers curled. Instead, she picked up her books and left the room.

Heading toward the dining hall, Ruelle followed the familiar corridor only to halt when her path was blocked. A rope had been drawn across the passage, guarded by two of Sexton’s men.

Hammering echoed off the stone walls, along with the sharp sounds of chisels biting into marble. Dust hung faintly in the air and workers stood on ladders. Looked like the space was being altered, she thought and one of the servants informed her,

"This passage is temporarily closed, miss. You will have to take the outer wing."

Closed? Ruelle frowned. This was the quickest route to the dining hall.

Nevertheless, she responded, "Okay."

She stepped away and turned towards the stone archway that led into the outside path. The wind was quick to greet her, slipping beneath her dress and chilling her skin. The garden stretched ahead and she walked on the gravel pathways. It looked like everyone had already arrived in the dining room and she hurried.

But suddenly something rustled loudly and her footsteps paused.

From the corner of her eye, something moved. At first glance, it looked suspiciously like a porcupine. Then the porcupine suddenly straightened to its full height and a startled gasp escaped Ruelle’s lips.

But the porcupine shrieked louder than she did.

"AHHH!!"

It was an Elite student, who turned and Ruelle found herself staring at a young vampire whose hair stood in every possible direction, twigs and thin sticks jutting out, all tangled hopelessly in some sort of sticky substance. Had he not been wearing Sexton’s robes, she might have truly mistaken him for some wild thing that had crawled out of a forest cave.

"W–What... what is there?!" he demanded, both annoyed and alarmed.

"I thought you were a porcupine," Ruelle replied honestly, her gaze lingering on the glue that had dripped over his forehead and had sealed his eyes tightly shut.

"How dare you?" The Elite snapped, immediately turning away as if that might salvage his dignity. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air, and he declared, "I will have you executed, lowly human!"

For someone in desperate need of help, he seemed alarmingly enthusiastic about threatening her. Ruelle simply stared at him.

"Ha! Are you frightened? Not so bold now, are you?" He continued stubbornly. "I was—wait, where are you going?!"

Ruelle had already turned away, deciding it was wiser to behave as if she had seen nothing at all. "To have breakfast," she murmured, resuming her steps.

"How rude of you!" he protested, sounding very much like an offended cat. "Do you not think you should be helping me?"

There was something almost childlike in his behaviour and it made Ruelle amused and also pity him. She exhaled softly and pointed out with all the politeness she could manage,

"You intend to execute me. You called me a lowly human. I am sure someone of your higher standing will assist you. Excuse me."

She took another graceful step forward and he stopped her,

"...wait."

Ruelle paused, turning back slowly. "Yes?"

He stood stiffly, his jaw clenched and unclenched before he muttered through his teeth, "I... cannot see."

That much was quite obvious. She then heard him admit, "I need help. This sticky thing fell into my eyes and if I open them, they sting."

"Why didn’t you ask for help? Someone would have come," Ruelle stated as she retraced her footsteps back towards him.

"I cannot go back inside looking like this," he hissed. "I did try finding a way back in, but I only got lost! If word spreads that I—" he clicked his tongue, stopping himself. "This is entirely undignified, especially after stepping into a booby trap of glue in the forest..."

So that was what happened. Ruelle observed the mess more closely now. The glue had hardened into a glossy sheen, clinging ruthlessly to his hair and skin.

"The glue seems to be drying. Water might make it worse," she said with her eyebrows furrowed. "Stay right here. I will fetch some oil."

When she returned from the infirmary, a bottle in her hand, his voice immediately rose in impatience. He demanded, "Finally, you are here. I thought you went to create the oil."

Considering his utter helplessness, he somehow still managed to sound rude. Ruelle asked him, "Did no one ever teach you that you are meant to be polite when you require help? Even if you dislike the person providing it?"

"No," he replied without hesitation, almost proudly. "Why would I need that? You are helping me, aren’t you?"

Ruelle stared at him for a moment. "...I am suddenly having second thoughts."

His head snapped in her direction like a startled owl. "Don’t go!" His hand shot out blindly, catching her wrist briefly before he abruptly cleared his throat and tried to recover some dignity.

Ruelle couldn’t help the small smile that touched her lips. She raised the bottle between them. She let him know,

"I am going to pour the oil now. Do not move."

"Very well."

"Lower your head," Ruelle instructed him, but the vampire laughed before asking her,

"How short are you?" But receiving silence in return, he quickly followed her word.

Warm oil quickly spilled over his tangled hair, trickling down the sides of his face. Ruelle carefully worked her fingers through it, massaging it gently to soften the hardened glue.

"I will hire you as my personal attendant," he announced grandly. "You have excellent—Aah! What was that for—?!"

Ruelle had tugged free one of the stubborn twigs. Then she asked, "Do you know what the three golden words are?"

"Execute, kneel, and begone," he declared, sounding absurdly proud of his answer.

"... you should change your governess if you have one. Else you will have a short life," Ruelle advised softly.

"You sound like my father now," he shook his head in disappointment.

At least someone was aware of this vampire’s absurdity, Ruelle thought. He then asked, "Have you seen anyone go through this?" he pointed at his head.

"I don’t think I have come across anyone in such a state," Ruelle replied carefully, unwilling to wound what little pride he had left. "But there is always a first for everything."

After a few minutes, she had managed to free most of the twigs, his hair slick and heavy beneath the oil. Her fingers moved cautiously when she brushed his forehead and eyelids, loosening the glue there. It was then she heard him mutter, more to himself than her,

"...I cannot even patrol properly without falling into a pit. Father will say I am unfit to inherit anything."

The arrogance was still there but dulled now, frayed at the edges, sounding more like a boy who had been scolded one too many times. Then, realising he had spoken aloud, he stiffened.

"Erase what I just said from your mind. Instantly! I will behead you," he demanded, mortification rippling through his tone. "This is even more humiliating than the time I fell off a horse when I was young."

Ruelle decided not to comment on it and continued to move her fingers to rid the glue. She then said,

"Even soldiers who win wars stumble in the beginning. Greatness doesn’t start by being perfect. It begins foolish, embarrassing and inconvenient. Then it improves."

He scoffed softly, "It is easier said than done."

"Maybe. But don’t you think it is better to fall now than later? To know where the pits are," she asked him, and silence fell again as he seemed to consider her words. "We should have you wash your face to rinse everything out. There is a fountain nearby."

The vampire struggled with the situation so he only nodded. She guided him to the fountain. Once they arrived there, he stood there as if waiting for the water to be poured.

"I believe your hands work just fine to wash it off," Ruelle crossed her arms, as she had done her part.

"I can’t believe I have to go through this," he muttered but she heard it just fine.

He muttered under his breath about incompetent architects and treacherous pits. He then bent over the basin and plunged his head beneath the flowing water. Ruelle stood a short distance away, watching as he scrubbed his face and hair furiously, splashing water everywhere.

After a while he straightened again, water dripping from hair to collar. He fished out for a handkerchief in his trousers but found his pockets empty. He cleared his throat to catch Ruelle’s attention.

"Here," she offered her handkerchief, shaking her head.

Once he wiped his face, he grumbled, "Finally. If I had to endure blindness any longer, I would have ordered the workers to be—" his words paused for a brief second.

"...executed," his voice died halfway.

Because the first thing he saw was her.

Ruelle wore a frown and she said, "The pits are there to catch wild animals. Always talking about execution."

To the Elite vampire, Ruelle was nothing less than a painting, with her blonde hair softly tousled and calm brown eyes watching him with patience which had no hint of mockery. He just stared.

Ruelle blinked, unsure why he had gone suddenly quiet. Then she said,

"I’m glad you can see again. Try not to fall into any more pits." She gave a polite bow and left the place.

Returning to the building, the corridors of Sexton carried the chatter and laughter of students. After washing her hands, she headed to the dining room when some of them whispered upon seeing her refined clothes.

"Aren’t Groundlings supposed to not buy things they can’t afford?" whispered one of the Halfling, who stood in the corner.

"Someone must be sponsoring her, else how could a mere Groundling afford such fabrics," said the person next to him.

Ruelle’s mind was filled with thoughts and she didn’t hear what was being whispered about her. And in some ways, it was a blessing that she didn’t pick it up. Walking down the corridors, she finally came before the dining hall.

The sky was as gloomy as her mood. The candles in the dining room were lit on the stands and on the chandeliers to make up for the less light in the room. Elites, Halflings, and the Groundlings sat at their respective tables. While the Elites table was filled with laughter and loud conversation, on the other hand, the humans table was quieter, and they stayed within their boundaries.

Ruelle’s eyes moved before she could stop them.

There at the Elites table, Lucian sat among his peers. No matter what... in the end she was a human.

Before she could think longer something collided into her.

"Ruelle!!"

Hailey wrapped her arms around Ruelle from the side. Her voice had attracted attention from other students, including Lucian’s. Suddenly aware of the attention she was receiving, heat rushed Ruelle’s cheeks.

"Ruelle, I have news!" Hailey declared, bright and breathless.

"Good morning to you too, Hailey," Ruelle greeted with a smile.

"It is wonderful to see you." Kevin’s voice joined. He came to stand next to Hailey. "Good morning."

"You say that like she’s been gone for a year," Hailey teased, tugging Ruelle toward their table. "Looks like you missed her more than I did."

Kevin’s lips opened and closed. He said, "We see each other every day—"

"Shush," Hailey waved him off dramatically as they took a seat. Her eyes sparkled in excitement. "Do you know who is here? King Septimus’ son—Prince Edward arrived just this morning. Which also means..." she inhaled before announcing, "We are going to have the Winter’s Ball!"

"If someone heard you, which I believe they have. They will think you are aiming for the prince," Kevin remarked dryly, rolling his eyes.

Hailey placed a hand over her heart, as though wounded. "And what of it? You are only bitter because there is no princess for you to sigh after. Besides, a woman is allowed to dream. Dreams are often kinder than reality. Is that not true, Ruelle?"

Ruelle chuckled softly. She replied, "I suppose there is no harm in dreaming."

"I don’t need a princess when I already—" Kevin began, his voice ending abruptly. Heat crept faintly into his cheeks as he cleared his throat and looked away.

Hailey raised her brows knowingly, delight dancing in her eyes. Ruelle, unaware, tilted her head and asked, "Already... what?"

"Already... have plans," Kevin finished quickly, waving a hand as though it were unimportant. "Never mind. Continue."

Hailey leaned forward on her elbows and asked, "Plans, is it? How mysterious. You must tell us—"

Ruelle laughed softly before offering warmly, "Whoever she is, you should bring her to the ball. I am sure she would enjoy it."

For a heartbeat, Kevin simply looked at Ruelle. He always found it strange how her simple words were always kind and sincere. His gaze softened, the faintest tremor passing through his chest before he masked it with a smile.

"Maybe I will..." he said quietly. He decided he would ask her to dance with him and then tell her finally how he felt about her, he thought to himself.

Hailey groaned as if remembering something and she exhaled, "But there is one dreadful thing to worry about. The clothes. I passed by the storage room and it has been cleared out. Now it’s full of parchments. Old and dusty ones."

Ruelle recalled Dane mentioning it the previous evening.

While her friends continued to chatter, she quietly reached for the small pouch tucked inside the pocket of her skirt. It held the few shillings she had managed to earn from the Elite vampiresses here. She guarded them carefully even though no one ever entered Lucian’s room. Some fears were simply habits of survival.

She quietly slipped the pouch into Hailey’s lap.

Hailey blinked, frowning down at it before whispering, "What is this?"

"It isn’t much," Ruelle said with a smile, "but perhaps if we put our money together, you could get something nice to wear for the ball."

"Ruelle..." Hailey’s voice trailed. "You’re going to make me cry. If I use this, what about you?"

Ruelle scratched the back of her neck, almost sheepishly and answered, "My dress is being arranged. Don’t worry about me. See, I am also wearing a new dress too," she assured her friend.

Realisation came to fall on Hailey, as she hadn’t paid attention to Ruelle’s dress that now looked like one of the dresses the Elites wore. She said in awe, "The colour is so pretty, especially as it complements you! But are you really sure?" she asked about the pouch.

"I am," Ruelle nodded firmly.

"I will try to get some work too so that I can add some more to it. Thank you, Ruelle. I will repay it to you," Hailey promised before hugging Ruelle.

"You don’t have to worry about that," Ruelle smiled at her friend.

The dining hall continued to fill with the voices of the students, but it suddenly turned to hushed voices. At first, Ruelle didn’t pay much attention to it, as she was trying to eat quickly. But when the voices went quiet, she wondered what was going on and she followed everyone’s eyes that was turned toward the entrance.

A tall figure stood at the entrance of the hall.

Wasn’t that porcupine? Ruelle asked herself, wondering if word had spread about his fall. He had changed his clothes, and his hair was dry and combed.

"Prince Edward is more handsome than they said..." someone at the Halflings table whispered in awe.

Ruelle’s fingers paused around her fork.

Prince... Edward? And realisation struck hard. Her eyes widened at the thought of actually being beheaded now. Before she could gather her thoughts, his eyes swept across the hall and stopped the moment they found her.

Don’t come here! Don’t! Ruelle prayed in her mind.

Everyone’s attention was on the prince and they watched him cross tables without hesitation and came to stop next to Ruelle, who had a piece of bread in her mouth. She forced it down.

"You... I forgot to ask the name of my rescuer," Prince Edward announced, utterly unconcerned with the eyes upon them.

Ruelle stood up from her seat, offering a respectful bow and anwered, "...Ruelle Belmont, Your Highness."

"Why are you being so formal now?" Prince Edward asked with a frown. He then repeated her name, "Ruelle," as if fixing the name into his memory.

Whispers broke loose immediately, buzzing through the hall like stirred bees.

"How does she know the prince?"

"Did they meet before?" 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"What is he talking about?"

From the other side of the room, Alanna clicked her tongue in disdain and muttered, "So she has risen even higher now. From a lord’s son to the king’s son. Not like I expected anything less from the Groundling, tch."

Ruelle wished the ground would open beneath her and swallow her whole. She lowered her eyes respectfully again.

"I am glad Your Highness is well," she uttered, hoping for him to leave.

"Please. Call me Edward," he waved his hand.

Ruelle was going to respond when she felt someone’s eyes on her.

Across the hall, seated at the Elite table, Lucian sat with a calm composure. His posture remained straight and his expression was unreadable. Yet his eyes were settled on her and Ruelle felt the air tighten.

He was still upset from their talk last evening, wasn’t he?