Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 98: Half the Way to Sexton

Ruelle dragged her trunk to the carriage stop and waited for the local carriage to arrive. And while she sat on the wooden bench, she came to the conclusion that Sexton was the only place left to go.

The road was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional passerby who glanced at her sitting alone with her belongings. No one asked her questions as if the villagers had already decided she was not their concern. It was only when her stomach grumbled that she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

So easily her family had cast her aside, the thought ran again and again, refusing to leave her in peace. All those years beneath one roof, every small hope she had foolishly nurtured had been swept away in a single moment.

After some more minutes, the local carriage appeared, its wheels rattling on the ground. Ruelle rose to her feet, brushing dust from her skirt.

"Is this carriage bound for Sexton?" she asked, forcing a polite smile.

"It is. The ride will cost four crowns," the coachman replied, climbing down from his seat.

"Four?" Ruelle frowned. "But it is usually two."

"It’s Saturday, miss," he answered with a shrug. "And not many coaches run to Sexton on the weekend."

Ruelle hesitated, her fingers tightening around the handle of her trunk. She had only two crowns and five shillings... hardly enough for the journey. She glanced back toward the direction of her house. She doubted the door would open for her again.

"So—are you getting on?" the coachman asked.

"Then... I would like to go half the way from here. For two crowns," Ruelle let him know.

The coachman considered it for a moment and then nodded. He replied, "Alright."

He took her trunk and secured it behind the carriage. Ruelle climbed inside and sat in between the two women as on the opposite side sat two men. The moment the carriage began to move, she could feel the fellow passengers curious eyes on her.

Ruelle pulled her scarf higher around her neck, covering the lower half of her face as though the fabric could shield her from their curiosity.

She wondered how she would complete the rest of the journey to Sexton.

Drag the trunk to Sexton on foot? She still had today and all of tomorrow to reach, she thought.

"Did Sexton do that to your face?" the woman on her right asked suddenly.

Ruelle did not turn to look at her.

"This is why we humans shouldn’t attend that dreadful place. Nothing good comes of it. I don’t know why families agree to it," the woman let out a disapproving sigh.

Ruelle kept her eyes lowered and avoided commenting on it. She didn’t see a point in responding, not when her own family had not cared to understand.

The coachman took a small pity on her. Instead of dropping her halfway, the coachman had stopped after another stop and she was grateful for his kindness.

The town she was at now was busy with carriages passing every so often and most of them belonged to families.

"Maybe I can find some work to cover the rest of the fare to Sexton," Ruelle murmured to herself, A small inn caught her eye, the smell of warm bread and broth drifting through its open door. It seemed as good a place as any to ask.

But the moment she reached for her trunk, a sharp pain shot through her fingers.

Ruelle bit her lip as her bruised hands protested. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to pick up the trunk, using her feet to push it forward as she made her way.

When she finally reached the inn, the innkeeper stepped forward and pulled out a chair, mistaking her for a customer.

"What would you like to eat, miss? We have broth made from—"

"I wish to work here," Ruelle interrupted gently. "Only for the day, if you would allow it. I can wash dishes or serve tables." She added, "Please."

The man blinked in surprise before shaking his head.

"I don’t need extra hands," he said at last. Before adding more bluntly, "And if I take you in looking like that, people will think I’m the one who put those marks on you. I don’t need that reputation! Keep walking."

"What are you shouting about?" the innkeeper’s wife called as she stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

"It’s nothing," the innkeeper replied with a dismissive wave. "Just this one asking for work. I told her we don’t need help." He muttered to himself, "People will think I beat them when it is the opposite."

Heat rose to Ruelle’s cheeks. She gave a quick apologetic bow, keeping her eyes lowered. She murmured, "Forgive me. I will look for another place to work."

The wife frowned, glancing between them. Then she smacked her husband lightly with the towel. She scolded,

"And who do you think is doing all the work back there? My arms are aching and it’s only for one day." She turned her attention to Ruelle. "What’s your name, dear?"

"Ruelle."

"I can pay you no more than a few shillings. Do you agree to it?" the woman asked, and Ruelle nodded. "Well then, Ruelle, you can help me in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Ruelle bowed in gratitude.

After pushing her trunk aside as instructed, Ruelle followed the innkeeper’s wife into the narrow kitchen. She helped in washing the utensils. She worked quietly and without complaint. Once she received the few shillings, she would be able to catch the carriage and head to Sexton.

As midday approached, the eatery grew steadily busier. The clatter of plates and low murmur of conversation filled the inn, and soon every table was occupied.

Inside the kitchen, the innkeeper’s wife hurried from stove to counter, wiping her hands on her apron as she prepared another bowl of food. She glanced toward the doorway and frowned.

"Where has that man disappeared to now?" she muttered, craning her neck. "Always vanishing when there’s work to be done."

She then turned to Ruelle and said,

"Take this out for me, will you? It is the table near the window."

Ruelle nodded. Before stepping out, she let down her hair to cover her face. She lifted the tray carefully and stepped out into the main room. She was greeted by the sudden noise. Reaching the table, she said politely,

"Your meal," setting the dishes down one by one. Ruelle returned to the kitchen and set the empty tray aside.

"Good job," the owner’s wife said, already preparing the next order. "Take this one as well."

Ruelle moved from table to table. The work was simple but it didn’t keep her mind busy.

It was because she had begun to notice some gazes on her with idle curiosity. At a table near the far corner sat three vampires, laughing loudly and speaking among themselves. More than once she caught their eyes lingering on her as she passed and she ignored it.

When another order was ready, Ruelle lifted the tray and carried it out once more. But before she could reach, a heavy hand settled on her shoulder.

The sudden pressure sent a sharp pain through the bruises hidden beneath her dress. She gasped in shock and the tray slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

The room fell momentarily silent.

"You humans are so fragile. Overreacting over a simple touch," the vampire snickered, brushing a drop of spilled drink from his sleeve. "No wonder you look like that."

"I will have this cleaned. Excuse me," Ruelle whispered, but the vampire stepped forward, blocking her way and she took a step back. His eyes travelled over her in a way that made her stomach twist.

"Looks like you aren’t being treated very well," the vampire added with a slow smile. "Why don’t I take you home with me instead? I can show you proper care."

Dread crawled up Ruelle’s spine.

"No... thank you. Please step back." Her eyes caught the fork and she felt her heart beating loudly. But would she survive... if she stabbed him?

The vampire only laughed, reaching for her again, "Don’t be shy. I promise you’ll enjoy it—"

The vampire didn’t get to finish his words, as in the next instant, his head was driven into the wall with a sickening crack.