Chapter 190: The Key to Her Room
"Did Imogen feed you well?" Ruelle looked up and found her father’s attention on her. He said, "You should eat more. Your wedding gown will not fit properly otherwise."
The concern in his voice sat oddly with her. It made the food in front of her harder to swallow. It was a performance to show they were the perfect family, but there was no one here to watch it. Yet her parents kept pretending.
With only a bite of food, Ruelle had poured herself a glass of wine and taken small sips along with Hailey. The bitter warmth sat easier in her throat than the food.
"Speaking of the wedding," Mrs. Belmont said, cutting through her husband’s words. "We need clothes. It is too near now and nothing has been prepared." She turned to Ruelle. "I was thinking we should place our orders where you had your gowns made. The courthouse is paying for it all, after all."
Mrs. Belmont’s eyes then moved to Harold and she asked, "What do you think?"
If there is a wedding at all, thought Ezekiel before he gave a small nod. Then said, "I will be the one walking with her."
And though what he said was him thinking of the future, Ruelle took it as her father walking her down the aisle and she corrected him, "You won’t have to. I have already asked Lachlan to do that."
A frown touched her father’s face, while her step mother blinked. She asked,
"Lachlan is your cousin. Not even your first cousin, Ruelle. Your father should be the one to walk you. "Do you know how that will look? People will ask questions."
Ruelle’s grip tightened around the stem of her wine glass. The thin crystal pressed cold against her fingers. She replied,
"If you want people to look, then perhaps I should alter the gown. So they see what was done to all those years."
The words landed heavily and Mrs. Belmont’s lips pursed as she knew exactly what Ruelle meant.
"That’s enough, Megan," her father said softly, patting his wife’s hand as if none of it mattered. Then he looked at Ruelle and stated, "If that is what you wish."
His hand reached for the serving bowl. He continued, "Still, everyone should eat well." He began serving the dishes around the table. When he reached her, Ruelle’s hand moved and she said,
"I am fine."
But her father didn’t stop. The spoon kept moving, trying to slip past the hand she had placed there. At the same moment, her hand jerked with the wine glass still in it and the glass tipped.
Red wine spilled across her lap, soaking through the front of her dress. She saw her father’s jaw tightened and he snapped,
"Why didn’t you move your hand?" irritation flashed through his eyes.
The sharpness of it made Ruelle look at him. There it was, the true him.
Ezekiel realised his Ruelle had changed and instead of accepting what he was giving her. In the past, she listened to everything that was said and that would mean he would have to bring her back to the right track.
"I told you," Ruelle said, her voice steady as she pushed back from the table, "I have no appetite." Her soaked skirts clung to her legs. "We already ate enough at Aunt Imogen’s."
Before she could reach for a napkin, her father was already there. He had picked the cloth and now dabbed her dress. Ruelle sat frozen by her father’s attempt to help.
"I can do the rest," she took the napkin from him quickly. "Excuse me." She rose at once and left.
Hailey shoved two quick bites into her mouth before jumping up. Offering a hurried bow, she rushed after her.
Ezekiel watched the door long after Ruelle disappeared.
"What?" he asked when he felt Mrs. Belmont staring.
Her brows were furrowed. She asked, "Why are you doing that? Caring for her suddenly." She sounded more confused than suspicious.
Ezekiel leaned back in his chair and sighed. "We cannot afford for the treaty to break because of us. So of course we must be careful."
Mrs. Belmont seemed to accept that. She took another bite and hummed softly at the taste.
Ezekiel snapped his fingers at the servants and ordered, "All of you. Go eat."
The servants bowed and left.
His eyes then moved to the clock. An hour or more, that was all it would take.
Then his gaze dropped to the plates.
Hailey had eaten, Mrs. Belmont too and the servants would soon too.
But Ruelle... She had barely taken a bite or two. His jaw tightened on how less obedient and less willing she was. For a moment, irritation stirred. But it didn’t matter. Once the house slept, he would still have her alone.
Once Ruelle entered the room, she pulled the stained dress over her head and dropped it onto the floor. Then she slipped into her nightgown, the fabric lighter against her skin.
"Do you want me to bring you something else to eat?" Hailey asked as she stepped into the room. "I am an excellent cook, you know. I can bring it here so you don’t have to see your parents while eating."
Now that she was away from them, Ruelle could feel her appetite returning. She thought about it before saying, "Maybe later."
Hailey nodded and shut the door behind her. She smiled, "The wine was good, wasn’t it? I might go back for another glass later," and a yawn slipped from her.
The wine Ruelle had taken earlier made her limbs feel strangely light, as though her body were drifting. She sat down on the bed and placed the books before her. Her eyes went to the grey one, which was still blank.
"I thought the mark on your neck was permanent. Or do you use some spell?" Hailey asked with a curious expression.
"I have no idea," Ruelle replied.
Pushing the thought aside, she picked up the other book with the basics. Flipping through the brittle pages, she skimmed the headings.
Ruelle turned the pages slowly. Some of it was simple like how to hide a witch’s blood by forcing it to mimic human blood. How to dull certain scents. How to weaken traces left behind. Then came the trick the old woman had used, hiding things in plain sight.
Her eyes traced the symbols carefully, remembering the way the books had disappeared one by one as though they had never existed. It was the most useful ability. But the more she read, the more her stomach tightened.
Because nothing came without cost. Every page said the same thing in different ways. It was to sacrifice small to big animals and humans.
And for a moment, she looked up, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of using anything in here at all.
Another yawn came from Hailey which was longer this time.
"The bed feels softer today," she murmured, already sinking against the pillows.
Ruelle smiled. "Sleepy already? I thought you wanted another glass."
"Mm," Hailey’s eyes were half-shut now."That was strong wine. Don’t you feel it?"
Ruelle paused to feel the warmth behind her eyes and the heaviness in her arms. She replied, "Somewhat. Less than you."
She set the book aside and pulled the blanket over Hailey and her friend barely stirred. She frowned at that but Hailey had eaten more than her and drank more too. Perhaps that was why.
Crossing the room, she blew out the candle near the far wall and darkness swallowed that side at once. Only the candle beside her bed remained burning, its weak light stretching over the pages as she picked up the book again.
Outside, the house had gone quiet. Her eyes shifted from the darkness to the writings on the page. She murmured,
"There it is. Removing a mark."
The words were enough to spark hope in her. To be able to remove the scars that had marred her body. And though Lucian had told her it was her battle scars, she still wanted to be able to give the best of her.
"Maybe I can try with this and see how far it goes," she muttered under her breath. At least this one required no sacrifice.
Glancing at Hailey, who was fast asleep, Ruelle slipped from the bed and crossed to the fireplace. Taking a handful of ash that had grown cold on the side, she poured it carefully onto the floor, shaping the symbol exactly as the book showed.
The lines looked uneven at first so she redrew them.
The book said skilled witches no longer needed symbols. Only memory and will, and use the salt in the atmosphere.
But Ruelle was far from that. Even the old witch had still used salt.
That alone told her enough. Rolling up her sleeve, she stared at the pale scar there. Gripping the dagger next, she made a quick cut across her palm.
Ruelle hissed, "I’ll never get used to this."
A few drops of blood fell into the centre of the ash circle. She then read the words from the page under her breath and then turned her eyes to the scar. But nothing happened.
Maybe the blood wasn’t enough, she thought to herself. Taking a breath, she dragged the blade deeper across her palm this time. Fresh blood dripped faster into the circle. The sting made her senses come back alive, which was lost from the wine.
Reading the enchantment, the next moment, the scar faded before her eyes, and her breath caught.
Before the blood dried, Ruelle quickly used the enchantment on her entire body. One by one, the old scars faded beneath her skin like ink washing away.
Walking to the mirror, she noticed the vines around her neck had faded along with the rest of the marks on her skin. For a moment, she only stared. Her fingers traced where the marks were supposed to be.
"Now where’s that secretive book?" she made her way to the bed and picked up the grey book when she heard someone turn the doorknob of the room.
Realising she hadn’t cleared the sign she had drawn near the fireplace, Ruelle quickly dropped to her knees and blew the ash apart, watching it scatter across the floorboards before she used her handkerchief to wipe away the drops of blood. Her fingers moved fast, her pulse beating harder with every sound of the doorknob turning.
It was past ten at night. Who would come to her room at this hour?
Her eyes darted to Hailey and she whispered, "Hailey?" But her friend was in deep slumber as she didn’t move an inch.
She leaned closer and pressed her ear against the wood, but she couldn’t hear anything. Slowly, she bent down and peered through the small hole in the door. The first thing she saw was her father’s coat.
She watched him glance once over his shoulder before slipping his hand into his trouser pocket and pulling out a key.
A key to her room.
For a moment, Ruelle only stared, her mind freezing. Without wasting another second, she reached up and pushed the latch into place, careful not to make even the slightest sound.
Ruelle knew her father was only putting on an act in front of everyone and had likely been waiting for the chance to beat her once they were alone. For a brief moment, she wondered if she should simply threaten him with the dagger and tell him to stay out of her room and out of her life entirely. But the guards would only dismiss it as family matters, a father trying to spend time with his daughter, and the daughter being difficult.
All she wanted was a little peace and quiet so she could read through the books and understand what they held.
When she heard the key jam into the door, her brain was no longer calm. She grabbed the coat and books, so that no one would find them. If her father or anyone else found them, especially the book on witchcraft, they would be more than willing to drag her into the centre of town and burn her alive for it.
And with Lucian not there, she didn’t want to risk it.
Without wasting another second, Ruelle pushed the window up and climbed over the sill, the cold air hitting her face before she dropped onto the hard ground below. Seeing the guards, who were sitting against the walls with their eyes closed, she didn’t think twice and ran out of there. She believed Hailey would be alright as her father’s anger had always been meant for her, never for strangers.
If he broke the door down, he would look for her. That thought alone was enough to keep her moving, her shoes striking against the frozen ground while the wind rushed across the empty land, camouflaging the sound of her steps.
In the new Belmont mansion, Ezekiel stood in the corridor outside Ruelle’s room. Just as he had planned, the guards stationed nearby had fallen asleep where they sat, their heads slumped forward like the rest of the staff in the house. The sedative had worked better than he expected. It had made things easier.
Now all that remained was Ruelle. But when the door didn’t budge, he frowned.
He tried again, slower this time, thinking perhaps he had taken the wrong key. Pulling out the rest of the bunch from his pocket, he went through them one after another, each one scraping into the lock, each one failing to open it.
"Ruelle?" he called, knocking against the wood. His voice softened, as he spoke, "Your mother wishes to speak to you. It is about the wedding guests."
But all he received was silence. From what he remembered, she had taken only a bite. That meant she would still be awake. But why wasn’t she opening the door.
"Ruelle?" This time impatience slipped through, his hand striking the door harder.
Without waiting any longer, he stepped back and drove his foot into the door with enough force that the wood splintered beneath it. The sound cracked through the corridor as the latch gave way and the door burst open.
His eyes went first to the bed.
The human girl Hailey was fast asleep, but Ruelle was nowhere in the room. For a moment he stood there, unmoving, staring at the empty room as if it would somehow explain itself.
Then his gaze moved to the slightly open window. Cold wind drifted in through it, stirring the curtains. The muscle in his jaw tightened. Had she done this yesterday too? Had she slipped away like this yesterday to meet Lucian Slater?
The thought alone made the muscle in his jaw twitch.
With the guards and the house still asleep, he took the carriage himself and left at once. If Ruelle had run, he would find her.
Not far from the mansion, Ruelle continued to run through the thick path of the forest. For one moment, she almost slipped on the forest ground, which was slippery but she soon caught the nearby tree for support.
Huffing, she continued to run until she found a church that was closed. When she reached the place, she looked behind her once before pushing the doors with both her hands before she slipped inside.
Her legs felt weak as drowsiness began to fill her body. Walking to one of the benches in the front, she sat down and her head fell back.
"What had Mother ever seen in him?" Ruelle asked, her voice softly echoing through the empty church where the candles had melted.
Ruelle sat alone in the quiet church, the cold pressing through the stone beneath her. For a long moment, she did nothing but listen to her own breathing. She had spent years without Lucian before but now those four days felt unbearable. There were four more days before she would finally be able to leave her parents’ house.
For a foolish moment, Ruelle wished he would step through those church doors and find her here, the way he always seemed to find her when things went wrong. The absence made her ache.
Walking to the chapel, she looked for a candle before lighting it up. Pulling out the grey book, she opened it. She neither read about the mountains nor about the history.
Her eyes moved over the notes written in hurried ink. It spoke of things like slowing poison and taking another’s mental pain, like drawing it out like thread and purifying it inside oneself until the other could breathe again. There were formulas for potions she would have never thought of. One had an enchantment which could make things move.
Further down, she found entries on inducing corruption.
"She did say the witch didn’t like vampires," Ruelle murmured. And just as she was about to close the book, she caught something written in the back. She murmured, "For you, who is beautiful. For you, who grows."
It was too late for her to dissect the words and she closed the book, returning to the bench as yawn escaped from her lips.
She lay down and used the scarf like a blanket over her. Her fingers curled into the scarf he had given her, holding onto it closer.
It didn’t take long for Ruelle to fall asleep as her thoughts stayed with Lucian.
The church fell into silence, leaving only the faint whistle of wind slipping through the cracks in the old stone. As hours passed, at the break of dawn, birds began to chirp, followed by the distant sound of carriage wheels grinding against the frozen road that came to a stop behind the church doors.
A moment later, the church doors burst open with a loud crack against the stone walls. Ruelle jolted awake on the bench. Her breath caught as she shot upright, her eyes snapping to the entrance before they widened.
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