Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 89: A door knocked too early

Though Ruelle had been clear with her words, she didn’t know if the prince understood it. Before he could come to a conclusion, she lifted her hand and said,

"Let us make a pact. One we will not break. Let us be friends."

And though she smiled, the edges of her lips faltered when his eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping in.

"Why do I feel like I am being deceived?" Edward questioned.

"Possibly because you are," Ruelle murmured. "For someone like me, being friends with someone like you does come with benefits. I will not pretend otherwise. But I promise I will not use you. I would treat you same as I treat others—for who you are. And I would ask the same in return."

He frowned and stated, "But I like being treated as the centre of the universe. I like—"

"Your Highness, do you not wish to be regarded for your soul rather than your title?" Ruelle interrupted him. She noticed how his eyes lowered in thought. After a pause, she continued, "If you permit it, I would like to be your friend for life," she extended her hand further.

Something tugged at his heart, as if he had forgotten the reason why he had called her here. He hesitated before placing his hand in hers. When she pressed her thumb lightly against his, a jolt shot through him. The prince yanked his hand back at once, face flushing.

"W–what are you doing?" He demanded, as this has never happened before and he checked his thumb.

"Sealing the pact," Ruelle replied with a warm smile. "That is how it is done in my village."

Edward stared at her with an appalled expression, before saying, "Your village has questionable customs. Where I come from, we exchange land, carriages, horses..." Horror then dawned on him. He murmured to himself, "Did I just agree to be a poor woman’s friend? How benevolent of me!"

Edward began to feel hungry, his stomach impatient as he glanced back at the table. The dishes had been left untouched for far too long. The roasted bird had gone cold, the sauce had turned unappetising, along with the goblet of blood that appeared stale in the prince’s eyes.

"All of this needs replacing," he muttered with a click of his tongue. "Disgusting. I dismissed Hermes far too quickly," he cursed himself.

His fangs ached faintly with an unpleasant pressure at the back of his jaw. He had not eaten before coming here nor had he attended the dining hall and it led to his gaze drifting unfocused before falling on the fresh blood that stood at the railing of the balcony.

Ruelle had moved away from the table after their talk, her hands resting on the railing, while she let out a sigh. For the moment, at least, the prince had abandoned his alarming insistence. She didn’t hear the prince come up next to her, his steps slow.

The blood couldn’t get any fresher than this, Edward’s mind whispered.

Unaware of the vampiristic instinct the night creatures carried but curbed, Ruelle failed to notice the prince’s gaze settled on her pale and exposed neck.

The vampire’s lips parted without conscious command and he took a step forward towards her, ready to sink his aching fangs that craved warm blood.

But in the same instant, a woollen fabric slid around Ruelle’s neck from behind and she let out a startled gasp as she was tugged away from the railing, her balance broken just enough to stumble backward into a solid, cold chest.

Edward’s teeth snapped shut in the empty air before he realised what he just did and turned red. His fangs retracted quickly.

Ruelle looked up before turning her head and she met Lucian’s face. She didn’t know if it was because of the night, but she caught his eyes that had darkened quite a bit.

"I thought I told you not to leave without the scarf," Lucian remarked, his voice barely raising while he ignored the prince.

"I didn’t know I would need it," she said quietly, as she turned to him. "I wasn’t planning to eat outside. It was sudden."

Lucian adjusted the scarf, covering her neck fully and stated,

"Weather has a habit of changing without warning," finishing the adjustment of her scarf before he added, "So do situations that should never have been left unattended."

Lucian then turned to meet the prince’s eyes that he had ignored. "Your Highness," he greeted with a polite bow.

By the time Edward fixed the front of his coat as though he hadn’t just tried to bite Ruelle’s neck, a look of displeasure had passed through his eyes. His gaze lingered a moment too long on where Lucian’s hand had been.

"Lucian Slater. Lord Azriel’s son," the prince addressed, as if testing the weight of the name aloud. "I have heard of you. You were working on one of the cases, weren’t you? I have heard about your talent for uncovering matters others prefer to remain buried. It is good to know...that you will be working under me one day."

"I hope one day I can work for you too," came the prompt response from Lucian.

Edward sized up the person before him when the other person’s words struck him. Did Lucian Slater mean to say it was doubtful that he would be sitting on the throne?!

"You have to be careful. Making a habit of involving yourself where you are not needed can have consequences," Edward said, before his eyes narrowed.

"I agree," Lucian replied with a slight smile. "Some things only remain intact because others choose restraint. And not everyone recognises the difference with their thoughtless impulses."

Edward’s jaw tightened almost invisibly. He found it difficult to look at Ruelle after what he almost did. He snapped at Lucian, "Of course, people know restraint!"

Ruelle, unaware of the underlying meaning of their exchange, couldn’t help but think how passionate these two men were about their work. She could sense the intensity with the way it was delivered. She nodded to herself internally, reflecting on how the prince and Lucian spoke.

Still, she could not shake the feeling that she had stepped into something she was never meant to hear. Subconsciously, her hand reached the wool around her neck as if to adjust it as she stood there idle.

Ruelle wished she could say a word or two. Sensing she was no longer needed there, she cleared her throat. She informed, "I shall be heading inside."

"So soon?" Edward asked, a note of protest slipping through. "But we have not even finished dinner."

Ruelle gave him an apologetic smile. After all, they had not even begun to eat. She replied, "It is getting late, and I still have assignments to complete. I am sure you do as well. And I think you would prefer warmer food than what sits on the table now."

"Assignments?" Edward scoffed. "Those can be postponed. I will inform the instructors. You need not trouble yourself with such things. There is no need for you to attend classes. I will not be either," he laughed, waving his hand.

Ruelle let out a soft laugh, which was reflexive. She responded, "I do not think that would be appropriate. I would rather attend."

Edward stared at her for a moment, as he was unfamiliar with such direct contradiction. He muttered, "I should have thought this through before agreeing."

"Good night," Ruelle wished softly.

As she turned, Edward noticed Lucian taking a step away from there too. He stopped him by asking,

"You are leaving as well?"

Lucian paused and turned back. He regarded the prince for a moment longer than it was necessary, long enough for Edward to frown.

"Yes," Lucian replied.

"I thought I would receive that answer tomorrow," Edward muttered under his breath. He didn’t like the way Lucian was going to leave with Ruelle. He asked, "Why?"

"Because there is nothing left to discuss," Lucian replied. Then with a slight tilt of his head, he added, "Unless you wished to speak about the classes arranged for you tomorrow."

Edward sucked in a breath as if preparing to say something, when hurried footsteps echoed along the corridor leading to the balcony.

"Your Highness!" Hermes appeared, a parchment clutched in his hand as he bowed quickly. "We need to catch up with the classes arranged for tom—" He stopped midway, glancing between them. "Huh. Did I interrupt something?"

Edward’s attention flicked to the parchment and his irritation deepened.

"We won’t keep you away from achieving greatness. Good night, Your Highness," Lucian offered a brief bow. Ruelle followed with a quiet nod, and together they stepped away.

Edward remained where he was, his gaze fixed on the space they had just left.

Only when their footsteps faded did Hermes clear his throat and he asked, "Is something the matter, Your Highness?"

"I am the prince," Edward murmured while his eyes had narrowed. "Yet he walks away as if he is the one, while I am the common man."

Hermes blinked at it.

"Lucian Slater?" the attendant repeated. "The Slaters are pure-blooded vampires and they are—well—old. One of the oldest vampire families. It is said the Slaters are called only when something must be resolved quickly. In fact the—"

"Enough," Edward snapped, annoyed. "You seem far too eager to admire him. You should go work for him." He turned away and began to walk off from there.

"Forgive me, Your Highness!" Hermes called, quickly following the prince.

In another building, the light in the corridor was dimmer than on the balcony. Candles burned on the stands, while two shadows moved against the wall. Ruelle walked a few paces ahead before noticing Lucian wasn’t walking next to her. She wondered if he had left, and she glanced over her shoulder to notice Lucian still there.

His eyes were already on hers.

Ruelle hesitated, her steps faltering for a brief moment and slowing down to wait for him. Curious, she asked him, "How did you know where I was?"

"There was talk of an invitation," Lucian replied nonchalantly as they walked. "It would have been inconvenient if you failed to return and the administration decided to reassign the prince into my room."

For a moment, Ruelle simply stared at him and then a soft laugh slipped free before she could stop it. With amusement in her eyes and voice, she commented,

"That would have been quite a situation. You and the prince are nothing alike. He has an overwhelming presence. He fills every space he steps into."

Her smile then softened, becoming more thoughtful as she said, "But I think he is a good person." At least, she believed he meant to be, minus him bringing up the mistress thing, she thought to herself. "We are now friends."

"An expensive friend," Lucian hummed. He did not say how little it would have taken for tonight to end differently.

Ruelle considered his words as they walked.

Somewhere Lucian was right. Friendship with a prince was never simple. Titles came with expectations. She wondered if she had foolishly jumped at the first exit from the situation the prince had placed before her.

Smart cookie, she thought, a small smile forming on her lips.

Lucian’s gaze lingered for a brief moment longer than he intended on Ruelle. His fingers curled once at his side, then relaxed, as if the movement had never been there at all.

"Why was there no chaperone?" Lucian asked grimly in thought.

"I was briefly with Ezekiel," Ruelle replied promptly. "But then I asked him to leave. Not like that. I only wanted to speak with the prince." She paused. "...that still sounds wrong."

Lucian said nothing.

Slightly flustered, she continued, "Besides, chaperones are meant for young ladies entering society. I am already in Sexton. And I share a room with a man. There is hardly a scandal left. I mean not—"

"I understand," Lucian responded before she could run in circles. When they reached outside their room and were about to enter, she heard him remark,

"I don’t know what people have told you, but your circumstance does not strip your worth. Because that is not how value works."

Ruelle watched him step inside while she continued to stand in the corridor. Lucian did not speak as much as the prince did, yet when he did, she felt less small, and not useless.

The following morning, one of the student doors was knocked on loudly and enthusiastically. Outside the door stood an overly dressed Edward, who now held a fresh bouquet of flowers. He looked rather pleased with himself.

When the door opened, Edward extended the flowers and greeted cheerfully, "Good mor–" but the word died on his tongue. He then turned his head a little and whispered, "Hermes...did you get the door wrong?"

From behind a nearby pillar came a hushed voice, "This is the right one, Your Highness."

Edward slowly turned back to the doorway, where Lucian stood.

Lucian’s eyes hardened when they met Edward’s. He looked at the prince as if throwing him into a coffin were a matter of inconvenience, not hesitation.