Chapter 173: Under Watchful Eyes
Ruelle did not miss the brief suspicion that passed through Peyton’s otherwise composed expression. The minister’s assistant looked as though she had interrupted something private.
Perhaps the woman had.
It was only when Lucian finally stepped back that Ruelle turned to look at him and realised his eyes had never once left her, as though the interruption had changed very little between them.
Heat lingered faintly against her skin even now, making it difficult to completely forget Lucian’s words from moments ago. The implication tickled below her stomach, making her catch her breath.
"Mr. Slater, Minister Carnifex and the council ministers have asked for your presence for lunch along with Miss Belmont," Peyton informed him, whose expression had returned to a blank one.
Lucian’s gaze finally shifted to where the vampiress stood at the door. "I see." The words sounded polite, though something colder rested beneath them. "We’ll attend."
Leaving Lucian’s office behind, they made their way through the corridors. Peyton walked behind them, while Lucian led Ruelle through the corridors toward the dining hall.
Ruelle noticed the sky had turned darker than before.
She found it hard to believe that she was about to sit at the same table as the ministers who shaped laws, treaties and the very world people beneath them lived within. Men like them had likely never spoken to someone like her unless it was to pass judgement. And now she, a human who’d been nobody weeks ago, was being invited to their table. She doubted the invitation had been extended out of simple hospitality.
The sound of their footsteps echoed softly through the long corridor. The closer they drew to the dining hall, the more aware Ruelle became of her own heartbeat. Glancing at Lucian, who looked unaffected by the invite, she asked,
"Do you usually have meals with them?"
"No," he replied, and there was something detached in the way his eyes moved ahead. He then continued, "The ministers you will be meeting form the council, where most legal matters eventually pass through their hands along with Carnifex, whom you met yesterday. From edicts to punishments."
"If they control so much, then what about King Septimus?" Ruelle’s voice carried genuine curiosity.
"He still holds the highest authority to overrule what the ministers place before him," Lucian explained to her. "But a kingdom is not maintained by one person alone. The council holds influence powerful enough to shape what reaches the crown in the first place."
"So the seed is sown here," Ruelle murmured.
"Not necessarily," Lucian replied as he scouted the space ahead of them. "Seeds can be planted from anywhere. Sometimes all it takes is placing them in someone’s hand and allowing them to believe the thought was their own."
Ruelle quietly absorbed the words.
Somehow, hearing Lucian speak about it reminded her that the world he belonged to was far older and more dangerous than she fully understood.
As they approached the dining hall doors, she picked up the hush of voices from the other side. The two guards standing outside immediately offered bows when Lucian approached.
Following Lucian inside, her eyes immediately fell upon the large round table positioned beneath the chandelier. Her gaze moved across the occupied chairs one after another. Nine pureblooded vampires. Somehow the air in the room felt heavier. Every single one of them carried the distinct presence that came from age and strong bloodlines.
Ruelle offered a bow despite feeling the weight of their eyes settle upon her almost immediately. Some looked openly suspicious, while others appeared merely curious. She caught their attention lingering on the mark resting on her neck.
"Mr. Slater." The greeting came from the leanest of the ministers, a man whose tiny spectacles perched on his nose. "It pleases us to see you finally willing to attend lunches without requiring repeated invitations. We should invite Miss Belmont often."
The minister spoke as though she were not in the room. At first glance, his spectacles made him appear gentler. But the longer she looked at the minister, the less comforting the impression became.
"Why?" Lucian’s eyes rested on the minister as he pulled the chair out beside him for Ruelle. "Is the council considering making space for her among you?" His head tilted while the minister smiled, which carried something far less pleasant by the end of it.
"I fear the council is far too traditional for such arrangements, particularly when the person in question is both a woman and human," the same minister answered.
"If I remember correctly—"
Another minister spoke now, his tone idle and bored. He didn’t bother looking at them, as if the conversation were barely worth his attention.
"—the human bound through this treaty is forbidden from being turned during the first seven years of marriage, are they not?"
As new as the condition was to Ruelle’s ears, she hadn’t considered being turned into a vampiress. And being found as a witch, she doubted a witch could be turned.
Minister Carnifex then interrupted the conversation, his aged eyes settling upon Lucian. He stated,
"The announcement regarding your union has already been dispatched across the kingdom. Seeing it is already noon, the news should have reached most nearby regions by now. The farther towns will receive word soon enough." He then looked at Ruelle. "How is the preparation for the wedding progressing?"
Ruelle straightened slightly beneath the attention that shifted toward her. She answered,
"It has been progressing well so far."
One of the servants stepped forward to pour wine into her glass before retreating once more into the background.
Moments later, the dining hall doors opened once again. Three women and two men were dragged inside and she watched them being brought toward the side of the table before their wrists were slit open without hesitation.
Ruelle recognised one of the girls almost immediately. The same girl had once sat several rows ahead of her during classes at Sexton and had been identified as having blue blood. Somehow seeing her here made the room feel colder.
The humans didn’t react as if they were used to it. Fresh blood poured into crystal glasses one after another while some of the ministers barely looked up from their conversations.
"I must admit, I was surprised that the treaty conditions have been upheld until now," the minister seated beside Carnifex commented with faint amusement as he glanced at the couple. "Particularly after hearing the two of you had already been residing beneath the same room in Sexton."
Heat threatened to creep into Ruelle’s face despite herself. Somehow the ministers speaking about her living arrangement with Lucian felt far more intimate than the reality of it.
Lucian, who sat composed at the table, replied, "The concept of restraint must be unfamiliar to you, Minister Scrooge."
Ruelle noticed one of the ministers pause midway through lifting his glass before hiding the smile behind his drink. Some of the ministers appeared lax compared to others who had spoken so far.
Minister Scrooge’s eyes narrowed. He demanded, "What do you mean?"
"Perhaps restraint comes easier when one already despises humans, which is understandable," Minister Sylvan remarked with a quiet chuckle. His hand caught the human’s wrist, making the cut on the person’s wrist go deeper as blood poured into his glass.
Ruelle watched the woman wince, though not a sound escaped from the person’s lips. As if enduring pain silently had long since become something expected of them.
The minister then continued, "After all, Lady Slater lost her life because of the humans. The wound was deep and I heard there wasn’t much that could have been done."
The mention of Lady Irina Slater seemed to alter something in the room almost subtly. Or perhaps it was only Lucian that Ruelle noticed.
She saw Lucian’s fingers stop against the stem of his glass. It was so subtle that she might not have noticed it had she not been sitting beside him.
She found it strangely ironic hearing the minister speak of cruelty while the vampire casually forced the human beside him to bleed deeper for his own satisfaction. But perhaps that was simply how most pureblooded vampires were. Cruelty seemed to settle around them but beneath the polished etiquette and silverware.
And despite everything between them, she was well aware of Lucian’s feelings toward humans so the minister’s words didn’t come as a surprise. Lucian had never pretended otherwise either.
She watched Lucian finally lift his glass.
"My mother’s death did not leave me particularly fond of humans," he admitted, swirling the drink in his hand. "But your insistence on comparing them to Ruelle does make one wonder if the council’s support for this treaty is less sincere than it was led to believe, Minister."
Minister Sylvan gave a soft laugh, the sound light enough to loosen some of the tension lingering around the table.
"You give my words far sharper intent than I meant them with, Mr. Slater. The success of this treaty is in the council’s best interest. I assure you, I would hardly wish to see it jeopardised."
Every sentence spoken within this room seemed to carry another meaning hidden beneath it. Yet Lucian moved through the conversation without hesitation, as though he had been born understanding how to survive through these things.
"I imagine this room feels rather overwhelming," the calmer tone almost caught Ruelle off guard. It was Minister Gaile, the one face she recognised from Brother Dane’s birthday celebration. His demeanour appeared calmer than the others.
Ruelle responded, "I think anyone would feel slightly overwhelmed sitting before the people whose decisions affect the lives of both humans and vampires alike." The words came out steadier than she felt, and she managed a faint smile, the kind that acknowledged the absurdity of her presence here. "But I still consider it an honour to share the table."
The minister wore a pleased expression at her words.
"I would have to say you are holding yourself rather well so far," the nicer minister continued to speak. "How was your time at Sexton? I heard your academic results were above average. Though I imagine keeping pace becomes difficult around someone like Lucian who spent his years ranking first."
Ruelle smiled at this. ’Difficult’ barely began to describe it, as Lucian seemed to have the habit of perfecting things.
"Lucian helped me quite a lot with my studies," Ruelle answered. "I think it made my time at Sexton easier than it might have been otherwise."
"I heard that the former Lady Slater had invested her time to help Ms. Belmont study," said another minister.
She did? It felt strange hearing these things from other people when Lucian himself had never once spoken about them.
In truth, he rarely spoke about the past. Perhaps because too much of it still carried the weight of his mother’s death. And she hadn’t asked either, as though some part of her feared disturbing the peace.
"I must commend Minister Carnifex on the selection," another minister remarked, the conversation finally easing into lighter territory. "The pair appear aesthetically well matched. I suppose Miss Belmont’s parents deserve some credits."
Ruelle lowered her eyes briefly toward her glass.
The compliment had been indirect, yet hearing that she suited Lucian still left a faint warmth settling quietly within her chest. It felt embarrassingly easy to become happy over something so small lately.
"The western territories are much more well-behaved, though the same can’t be said about the northern sides..."
The conversation flowed around her now, shifting to territorial disputes and case assignments. She understood barely half of it. Yet strangely enough, she found herself enjoying simply listening.
But after a few minutes, she let herself drift slightly, content to be overlooked.
Then from the corner of her eyes, she caught Lucian’s hand placing a piece of buttered bread onto her plate without him even looking away from the minister he was addressing. The movement appeared so natural it almost made her wonder how often he paid attention to her without her noticing it.
Was this because she had earlier mentioned wanting to eat buttered bread? To think he had fulfilled a desire she’d spoken of in passing...
"I’ve already reviewed the reports two nights ago and handed them to Minister Gaile," Lucian replied to Minister Carnifex when asked.
The butter that was kept near them wasn’t soft. But the butter on her bread had already melted perfectly into the surface. When she picked it up, she found it warm.
She couldn’t help but feel fortunate. To have someone like him beside her. Was this a reward from life? Somewhere, she was worried that she would become greedy for the warmth he gave her.
There was a time in the past when she felt she was sinking and she had wondered if she should give up swimming as the shore seemed nonexistent.
The thought came unbidden as she took a bite, feeling the slight heat from the melted butter on her tongue. Her eyes moved to his hands, which now were cutting into the steak on his plate. His hands looked composed yet elegant with those long fingers.
"How is your family doing, Miss Belmont?"
Ruelle’s eyes moved to meet Minister Sylvan’s. There was something about him. It was almost the same demeanour as Brother Dane, that same easy smile, but where Dane’s energy felt protective, this minister made her feel exposed.
"I heard your sister killed a few humans. She resides within the dungeon now, does she not? You never asked Lucian to release her?" questioned the minister. "Or do you want us to release her?"
The question sounded harmless enough on the surface. Yet Ruelle somehow felt it was a trap. She could sense the other minister’s gazes fall on her.
She swallowed the bread she had bitten into and replied,
"If I ask to bend laws for the sake of personal attachment, then I would become no different from the kind of people most resent within positions of power." Her fingers lightly tightened around her spoon while her voice came out calmer than she had expected. "I believe my sister will be released once her innocence comes to light."
"What a responsible answer, Miss Belmont," Minister Gaile’s praise felt genuine but somehow it made it worse. Like being patted on the head for performing correctly.
"Indeed," Minister Sylvan hummed, his gaze lingering upon Ruelle as though quietly weighing her. "Though I admit it does leave one wondering whether questions may eventually arise regarding the young lady’s background. But then again, Minister Carnifex has already signed and released the announcement."
Ruelle shifted in her seat, the movement involuntary, her body betraying the discomfort her face had tried to hide. And as uncomfortable as those words were, they were still the truth. If it weren’t for the past betrothal agreement, she wouldn’t have been considered for the treaty.
"A flawless background would likely make the treaty appear fabricated," Lucian replied without looking up from the steak he was slicing into. "If the treaty required perfection from human backgrounds in order to function, then it would defeat the purpose of the treaty entirely."
"Hm," Minister Sylvan hummed, though his attention never truly left the couple, as though another thought had already begun forming within his mind.
The man continued in a light voice,
"I only mention it because one of the treaty conditions specifically states that neither of the families is permitted to threaten or bring harm upon the other. Otherwise, the agreement risks becoming void with penalties."
Ruelle could sense what this person was talking about before he had even finished his entire sentence. A feeling of dread rose in the pit of her stomach, questioning how much information about people related to her was pulled out. How long were their eyes following her?
"How are your father’s hands? Heard it was broken," Minister Sylvan said in a nonchalant tone.
Ruelle couldn’t help but feel that these men were far noisier than the women in her village who wanted to pry into every word uttered.
"It is healing," Ruelle replied calmly.
"Oh pray, what happened?" questioned the minister sitting next to Sylvan.
"My father owed money to men," Ruelle replied quietly. "They broke his arms when he failed to repay it. But King Septimus took care of the debt collectors," she added.
Ruelle had spoken the truth, then lied, and then added another truth. Though Sylvan did not continue the subject, she could still feel the implication left lingering behind his words. Perhaps the minister suspected Lucian’s involvement in what had happened to her father’s hands.
She hoped that mentioning the king would be enough for the minister not to poke his nose further into it.
By the time Ruelle stepped out of the dining hall after having lunch with the ministers, she felt strangely drained. She realised then that she had no desire to share another meal with the council members anytime soon and if possible, never.
With Lucian who had been held back by the ministers, Ruelle made her way toward the Slaters’ carriage with Peyton following closely behind. Outside, the colder air felt easier to breathe.
She spotted Claude near the carriage feeding one of the horses. The coachman glanced up when he noticed her approaching.
"Miss Belmont," the coachman greeted with a bow.
"Claude," Ruelle greeted softly. Noticing the crystal band around his wrist, a smile appeared on her lips.
Once Lucian arrived where they stood, they climbed inside the carriage and the door closed behind them with a soft click.
Soon, the courthouse disappeared behind them as the wheels began to roll with the familiar jolting motion. Ruelle didn’t bring up Minister Sylvan’s probing questions, not with Peyton sitting opposite them, who was going to report every word.
Instead, she asked, "Do you have work tomorrow?"
"Yes, but only the first half of the day. I will return to the mansion once I am done with the work," Lucian’s response was smooth as ever, but she caught the slight tilt of his head. "Did you have somewhere to go?"
"I was actually thinking about visiting the town we went to the fair last week," Ruelle answered. "It is just something I wanted to check. Peyton will be there with me," she added.
Lucian stared at her for a brief moment. Even though he had a faint idea about it. He questioned,
"What do you want to go for in the town for?"
"There was a flowerpot in a house and I worry nobody is there to water it..." Her words turned faint when she felt Peyton’s gaze on her, which was sharp and attentive. It wasn’t like she could outright tell about the strange plant, lest she wanted the people of the courthouse to know that she was a witch. Noticing the faint frown appear on Lucian’s sharp features, she said, "I can wait for you to return and we can go together."
"That would be better," Lucian hummed, the earlier frown disappeared from his face. "I will come pick you up."
Ruelle gave him a nod.
Of course, she could have the flowerpot fetched. Send a servant and have it delivered to the mansion. But she didn’t know why but she felt like she had to go visit. Had to see it with her own eyes.
She understood Lucian’s worry and her own luck. The news about their wedding would have reached the towns by tomorrow. And there was the possibility of it shaking some hornet’s nests—resentful humans, vampires questioning the treaty.
But that also meant that she wouldn’t be able to buy anything for him as a surprise gift.
Meanwhile, where Caroline was held in the courthouse’s dungeon, the place had stayed quiet after the visitors left.
"Are you doing alright?" The woman opposite Caroline’s cell—Marjorie—broke the silence with a question that sounded caring.
After Ruelle had left the dungeon, Caroline had fallen to her knees, sitting motionless on the ground.
"I feel terrible for you," Marjorie’s voice carried pity. "Never would have expected that your sister was the one to send you here. Is something going on between your husband and her?"
Caroline’s eyes widened.
"W—What do you mean? He loves me. He sold his house for me. You don’t know anything..." Caroline’s words came out defensive. Even though she had tried to dismiss it, the woman’s words made her doubt again.
"I am sorry," Marjorie’s tone lacked any real emotion. "It’s just that it felt that way. I mean, I would expect a parting kiss, after all, you haven’t seen him since..."
Caroline’s hands clenched. It couldn’t be true. Ezekiel had been here trying to support her. He’d told her he would get her out of this place. But why didn’t he kiss her before leaving? They wouldn’t be seeing each other until tomorrow and she was scared. And he’d just... left. With barely a backward glance. Following Lucian Slater.
"Like I said yesterday, you are an innocent person so you shouldn’t worry about getting out of here, Caroline," Marjorie’s cheerful tone felt forced, and Caroline nodded automatically, clinging to the reassurance. "But I hope you keep in mind that sometimes innocence doesn’t guarantee justice. Especially when your sister is making you stay here."
"You think they are going to get me executed?"
Caroline’s question emerged, small and frightened. Because surely Ruelle wouldn’t go that far. They were sisters. They shared blood. Ruelle might have put her here to teach her a lesson, to make a point, but she couldn’t actually mean for her to—
"You assume wrong," Caroline murmured with a frown.
"I am only cautioning you. It is better to be prepared. Sometimes your own blood can screw you over. You know how I got here?"
"By causing trouble to the pureblooded vampires?" Caroline asked the woman.
"That’s just a part of it. My uncle reported me, can you believe it?" The scoff that followed was bitter. "I know my days are numbered before I get beheaded."
"Sorry about it..." Caroline murmured while still worried about her own situation.
"Don’t be."
Marjorie then began to move. She crawled toward the bars, and with her lean, gaunt frame, she pushed part of her face through. Her eyes moved to look at the empty corridor. She waved for Caroline to come closer, and the younger woman moved, drawn by morbid curiosity. The woman then whispered,
"I plan to escape."
Caroline’s eyes widened and she said, "That’s impossible to do. The doors are locked and even if you do, you—"
"I have been planning for it for weeks. I do need your help though. Will you help?" the woman asked in a pleading, soft voice while Caroline stared at her.
Away from the courthouse, the carriage wheels continued their steady rhythm through the frozen road.
Away from the prying eyes and the careful questions of the ministers, Ruelle, who was staring outside the window, felt her eyelids grow heavy. Slowly, without meaning to, she began to drift to sleep.
Her head swayed, unconscious of the movement and it approached the window.
But it never collided.
Lucian’s gloved hand appeared between her head and the glass. The gesture was fluid. He gently guided her head down, redirecting her toward his shoulder instead. A soft sigh escaped from Ruelle’s lips at the indirect contact and her body relaxed into him.
And though Peyton didn’t say anything, her lips were set in a thin line. As if she should have sat next to Ruelle.
While the carriage continued to head toward the Slaters’ Mansion, Ruelle, who was deep into sleep, dreamt of a past memory.
"Can you believe it? Especially when there was only a week left," the whisper carried through the vegetable shop like contamination impossible to contain.
"He must have found something disagreeable. Perhaps something is wrong with her," another female voice joined the first, and Ruelle felt the weight of their attention on her. She stood in another shop, pretending to examine the fruit.
"I heard it is because of all those... scars. But doesn’t that mean she showed it to him? Oh my!"
Two days had passed since the letter from Mr. Mason Webb arrived. Two days since the engagement had been broken.
"Mrs. Payne, do you have proof that I showed my body to Mr. Webb?" Ruelle questioned after turning to look at the two women.
The women turned flustered, their faces flushing with the particular embarrassment of being caught in their own cruelty.
"W—What are you talking about?"
"You said I showed my body to him. When did I do it?"The question was simple and direct, impossible to answer.
"How would I know?" Mrs. Payne huffed, her eyes darting away before finding Ruelle again with renewed venom.
"And talking like that—It looks like Mr. Webb was right, you aren’t a decent young woman."
Ruelle stared at the woman for a long moment before speaking, "You mean, I should be more like your son who sneaks with women into the forest?"
The woman turned red, her lips opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. "How dare you sully my son’s name with yours?! You think we don’t know how your father beats you for the lack of discipline you hold? All of us know what an ill child you are!"
Then Mrs. Payne looked past Ruelle, and her voice took on a different tone. "Mr. Belmont, look at what she is saying! She’s peeping at men!"
Ruelle’s body turned rigid with the particular terror that came from years of conditioning. She turned slowly, dreading what she would find. There he was.
Her father looked irritated.
"They were talking about—" Ruelle began to explain but she never finished the sentence as her father slapped her.
She was shocked as her cheek stung.
Her father had hit her plenty of times, but never out in the open where people could see. The violence had always been private, something whispered about but never witnessed.
A couple of gasps escaped around them, while Mr. Belmont glared at his daughter.
"I didn’t raise you to talk about what other people’s sons are doing. You were supposed to buy the groceries and return home." He caught hold of her arm, and she felt his fingers dig into her flesh with bruising force as he dragged her away. "Don’t you know you are fuelling more rumours? Can’t you do one damn thing right?!"
Ruelle felt the pain erupt from the arm that was gripped tightly. Her lips trembled as she tried to make him understand, "Shouldn’t I clear the rumours? When they are talking ill about me, Father?"
"Rumours come and go. But you are now feeding it!" He pulled harder, his anger building with each word, each accusation. "And it is your mistake that Mr. Webb broke it off, why couldn’t you keep his attention on you? Nothing but a useless thing that occupies space in my house, tch."
They were now away from the market and from people.
"How much more should I try to fix your attitude? You couldn’t be woman enough and he realised you are worthless! You must have told something to him, why else would his attention steer away?"
The accusations piled on top of each other—each one designed to wound her, each one blaming her for the broken engagement.
"I... I didn’t do anything," Ruelle’s whisper was barely audible.
"What?"
In that breath of space, she asked, "How is it my fault? I did everything you asked me for—"
"You did everything? Then why aren’t we setting up for the wedding?"
Mr. Belmont glared at her, his eyes burning with an anger that seemed unreasonable to the situation. As if her broken engagement was a deliberate act of sabotage against his carefully laid plans.
"You don’t even have the brains or appearance to hold the man’s attention. I have fed and raised you, and this is what I hear? That you are a peeping tom?!" The accusation was false, and they both knew it. But absurdity didn’t matter when it was being told by people of their village. He demanded, "Why didn’t you die when you killed your mother, huh?"
Ruelle felt the harsh words prick deeper than usual.
One would have thought that with years of her father’s hate, it would have thickened her skin. It should have but it hadn’t.
Especially now, with her being left vulnerable in the eyes of the village folks, with every eye in the market ready to humiliate her like she was worth nothing—it hit harder than it ever had.
Her father forcefully snatched the bags from her hands. Without waiting, he abandoned her on the road.
The fresh wounds on her back hadn’t healed yet. The bruises were still tender, still weeping beneath her dress, but they didn’t hurt her as much as the words spoken by everyone. She turned and ran through the forest. The trees turned into a blurry haze until she arrived at the cliff.
It was the cliff she often came to when she needed time away from everything. Time where her tears rolled down her cheeks without fear of judgement. She collapsed to the ground.
She was hurt and broken. She felt like she was drowning. And the weight of her pain was so heavy that she didn’t know if it was worth resurfacing at all. Why try? Why fight? Why continue existing when everything she did seemed to cause pain?
Why couldn’t Mr. Webb choose her? A sob escaped from her lips—raw and broken, the sound of someone whose capacity for quiet suffering had finally reached its limit. The scars that had reduced her worth.
Did that mean no one would ever love her? Her own father wore a look of hatred in his eyes even though he allowed her to stay.
Her cheek still throbbed in pain. Her eyes were blurry with tears that continuously continued to spill, streaming down her face in an endless river of despair. She sat on the ground until her eyes turned red and swollen.
After a while, she stared at the horizon.
Her mind was slightly in a trance as if her thoughts had gone quiet.
After a few minutes, Ruelle stood up. Her legs moved of their own accord, carrying her forward.
She murmured, "Mother died because of me... I did it to her."
She took a step forward, then another one, until she came to stand at the edge of the cliff. Strong wind blew that pulled out the strands of her blonde hair from her tied hair, whipping them around her face.
She watched the sky and whispered, "Father says I should die..." And her foot moved forward, dangling in the air—
Ruelle woke up at the sound of the carriage door clicking open, jolting her from the nightmare. The sound of the wheels and horses’ hooves had come to a dead stop. She couldn’t believe she had dreamt what she did and it made her uncomfortable.
Was it because of the wedding that her mind decided to pull that particular memory up?
Realising she had been leaning against Lucian, and noticing Peyton watching her, she quickly pulled away and murmured,
"That doesn’t count, does it?"
But Peyton didn’t say anything. The minister’s assistant was the first one to get down from the carriage. Ruelle got down next and was followed by Lucian.
Lucian and Ruelle headed to the front entrance, where Maude had already arrived. Ruelle let the woman remove her coat and she heard Lucian say,
"Why don’t you go wash your hands and change your clothes first? Maude will have tea and biscuits brought to the drawing room."
"Okay," Ruelle replied with a smile. She wondered if her clothes had picked up the scent of the dungeon. She started to walk and disappeared around the corner of the corridor along with Peyton, their footsteps disappearing deeper into the mansion.
Lucian continued to stand in the same place, his coat pulled away as he stared at the space where Ruelle had disappeared.
The softness that had rested upon his features in Ruelle’s presence slowly disappeared to be replaced by a shadow. His expression turned cold and infinitely more dangerous at what Ruelle had dreamt.
He felt her despair and what she could have done.
"Inform Dane I need to speak with him," Lucian ordered Maude calmly. Yet something about the quietness in his voice felt far more unsettling than anger.
