Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 202: After The Funeral At Brackenwell

"...and we commit his body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

The priest’s voice drifted over the cemetery, steady and practised, while Ruelle watched the ropes slacken little by little until her father’s coffin disappeared into the grave. The mourning clothes she wore softly ruffled because of the breeze.

Lucian stood on one side of her, while Lachlan, Lord Azriel and Dane on the other. Behind them a few members of the courthouse were present and they were mostly acquainted with Lord Azriel or Lucian. Mrs. Belmont and Caroline were absent, as both had taken ill during the night, their bodies weakened by relentless vomiting, leaving Maude and Hailey to care for them back at the Slater mansion.

The priest stepped aside and instructed, "Please come forward and pay your last respects."

Before Ruelle realised everyone had begun moving, she felt a familiar warmth settle lightly against the small of her back. Lucian guided her and her eyes dropped to the open grave.

She bent, gathering a small handful of loose earth between her fingers. When she let it fall, the soil struck the polished wood with a dull thud that disappeared into the silence almost immediately.

How pitiful, the thought came quietly. Her father had spent his entire life hating and belittling her existence. Yet she was the only family member standing here.

"What a tragedy for him to have passed like this."

"A terrible loss."

The condolences came one after another. One of the men who had once mocked her now removed his hat before talking to her.

An officer approached Lucian, bowing before quietly asking if he might spare a moment. But before he left, his eyes sought hers. She gave him a nod to assure him she would be alright.

"Before travelling back," Lachlan suddenly said behind, amusement finding its way into his voice, "I had prepared a rather lengthy lecture for the man you were going to marry."

Ruelle turned towards him.

The corners of his mouth had lifted into a crooked smile she hadn’t seen in a long time. He offered his arm and she wrapped her hand around his, and together they wandered farther down the stone path where the voices from the funeral faded beneath the rustling trees.

"You still can," Ruelle replied looking at her cousin. "I don’t think Lucian would mind."

"I suppose I should..." Lachlan looked ahead as though genuinely weighing the idea. He added, "I am your brother, even if only distantly. It would be improper if I didn’t threaten the man who intends to marry you."

Ruelle let out a small laugh beneath her breath.

Lachlan’s gaze drifted toward the little crowd gathered near the grave where Lucian stood talking. Even from where they were, he noticed the pureblooded vampire’s eyes look for Ruelle.

Ruelle heard her cousin let out a quiet breath and he murmured, "I don’t think I’ll be needing that lecture after all."

Another woman from Brackenwell came to pay her condolences. "I am sorry about what happened. I know how much your father loved you and how close you were."

This seemed to have struck a nerve in her cousin, who stopped and opened his mouth to respond. But she tightened her hand around his arm and replied,

"Excuse us."

"How annoying," Lachlan muttered, glancing over his shoulder. His mouth twisted with open displeasure. "All these rats wanting to get close to you know when they don’t know a thing."

"It is okay. It is almost done," Ruelle murmured with a shake of her head.

Lachlan’s jaw tightened and he said, "He was a terrible man. He should have known that love isn’t measured by obedience or by fear. But it was only directed at you."

"Thank you for looking out for me those years," Ruelle murmured, as her cousin had been a light in the darkness that she been placed in.

Ruelle remembered a year ago, when Lachlan had found her in the market with black and blue marks on her hands. It had made him upset and he had told her to come along with him, to leave Brackenwell. But she wasn’t able to, as she had been mentally a prisoner of her family. Unable to let go of them.

’Come with me, Ruelle! I promise to take care of you. This... This, what Uncle is doing, is not right. This isn’t how love looks like!’ her cousin’s worried voice echoed from the past.

"I barely did anything," Lachlan murmured, disappointment weighing every word. "When your engagement was broken... I wasn’t even there."

Ruelle looked at him, before a small smile found its way onto her lips. She let him know,

"You did far more than you know." When he turned to meet her eyes, she continued, "You were the first person who told me something was wrong. Even if I didn’t agree to it."

She had not understood it then and it had taken Lucian’s support for her to realise.

Beyond the people gathered around the grave, Lucian still stood with the minister, listening more than speaking. His expression gave little away, and as if sensing her gaze, he turned to meet her eyes and she smiled.

She was now surrounded by people who loved and cared for her.

Silence gradually settled over the cemetery as people made their way back to their carriages. The murmurs that had filled the grounds only moments earlier drifted farther away until they became little more than distant voices carried by the wind.

Ruelle found herself looking towards the line of carriages before her eyes fell on Elder Minister Carnifex. He stood beside one of them with Peyton, the two appearing to exchange a few quiet words. Though Peyton spoke, the minister’s eyes seemed elsewhere.

They were fixed beyond the rows of headstones. Ruelle followed the direction of his gaze almost instinctively, only to realise he was looking at her mother’s grave.

When Ruelle’s eyes met Carnifex’s eyes, his lips pressed together for the briefest moment, as though he hadn’t expected her to notice where he had been looking. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the look disappeared behind the familiar composure he always carried.

He said something to Peyton and then made his way to her.

Beside her, Lachlan, who noticed the minister approaching, said quietly, "I’ll be nearby," before stepping away without making it appear obvious.

Ruelle’s attention returned to the elder minister. As he came to a stop before her, she lowered her head in greeting. She would have addressed him as minister, but after knowing he was her father, it felt a little odd.

Carnifex returned the bow with politeness. He then cleared his throat quietly when two seconds passed, asking,

"How are you doing?"

"I am fine..." Ruelle answered softly.

Almost without thinking, her eyes wandered across the cemetery until they settled upon Minister Sylvan. He stood some distance away, speaking to another official, yet she had the unmistakable feeling that he had been watching them for far longer than either she or Carnifex had paid attention to. Their eyes met only briefly and the man smiled.

"Do not concern yourself with him."

Carnifex’s voice was calm, yet there was a firmness to it that drew Ruelle’s attention away from the departing figure of Minister Sylvan.

"Azriel mentioned what you heard between him and your father," his eyes followed Sylvan’s carriage for only a brief moment before returning to her. "I have men watching his every movement. Whatever he intends to do, he will find very little room to do it. You should concern yourself with your wedding instead."

But was it possible? Ruelle wondered.

Even though her father... Harold Belmont was dead and buried now, there was the question of the witch and Ezekiel on hand.

Carnifex remained quiet for another moment, as though deciding whether to continue. He then said,

"I also discovered something else. The money your father kept borrowing..." his hands disappeared into the pockets of his dark overcoat, "...Sylvan was the one supplying it. Did you never wonder why men continued lending Harold Belmont money after he had already proven he would never repay them?"

Ruelle frowned. Back then she had believed it was because they expected repayment with interest. Because that was what lenders did.

"They knew he would lose it. Men like Harold seldom stop gambling once they have convinced themselves the next wager will restore everything they’ve already lost."

"So why continue?" she murmured, more to herself than to him.

"Because they were never risking their own coin. Sylvan was the one giving the men the money, while letting them collect the interest. He wanted Harold indebted and dependent. Of course, the men never met Sylvan as it came through another person," Carnifex corrected gently.

"So he knew where we lived," Ruelle muttered. "If he wanted to make us suffer, wouldn’t killing be easier and faster?"

Carnifex didn’t say anything for a moment. Ruelle saw the priest offer a bow to Lord Azriel when she heard the minister beside her say, "He wanted to keep you alive so that he could raise the child like you."

"I don’t think I understand what you mean," it was the strangest thing Ruelle had heard, but what he said next was even stranger.

"Sylvan brought an orphan girl with blonde hair and brown eyes. Raising her exactly to behave, talk and move like you. The unfortunate child spent years becoming someone else."

"Lia..." she murmured almost unconsciously, lifting her eyes back to the elder minister. "Lia Sloane?"

"Yes. Fortunately, the plan never survived for long. Lucian almost snapped her neck and the girl was forced to wait until the right time came," Carnifex explained with a solemn expression. "With everything we have gathered Sylvan will not remain to be part of the courthouse much longer."

"Doesn’t something like that have repercussions?" she asked, the question escaping before she had fully formed it.

Her thoughts had already travelled farther ahead, imagining a man like Sylvan quietly waiting for an opportunity to strike back. Someone like him who had worked to take the position of elder minister and was now being demoted to nothing... she couldn’t imagine.

"Ordinarily, perhaps not. But this is not merely corruption or political rivalry. Did you think one could break the treaty and one could walk away unharmed?" Carnifex’s gaze drifted towards Harold Belmont’s grave before returning to her. He continued, "He attempted to undermine the treaty itself. Men have been executed for less. The entire household will be removed, and I have already informed His Majesty. The King’s judgement will follow shortly."

If what he said was true, then there would be nothing to worry. Perhaps this Chapter of her life truly was closing.

After a comfortable silence settled between them, she found herself asking, "Do you come here often? To Brackenwell?"

"No," came the response from the man. "I didn’t know Harold moved your mother’s grave here. Not until the treaty came back into effect."

Looking at the elder minister now, she had the quiet feeling that he wasn’t here to offer condolences. She said, "You don’t have to worry about what I heard yesterday. I won’t ask you."

But instead of relief, the words seemed to weigh upon him. Carnifex’s brows drew together, his lips pressing into a thin line as though her answer had only made whatever burden he carried heavier. When he finally spoke, his voice had grown quieter than before,

"I understand your wedding will keep you occupied in the coming days. But when you are ready, I would like to invite you to my home."

The request caught her off guard because of all the things she had expected him to say, that hadn’t even crossed her mind.

"Okay."

Something in the elder minister’s expression softened so faintly that she almost missed it, like a man who had prepared himself to be refused.

"I think many of them heard us today..." she had forgotten they were in the company of pureblooded vampires.

Carnifex smiled slightly at this. He said, "No one can hear what we are speaking. No matter how keen a person’s hearing is, it will fall when it comes to me and the person I am talking to. It is my ability." After a pause he said, "I look forward to hearing from you."

With those words, he walked away from Ruelle and when he was on his way to exit the cemetery, Dane murmured,

"Is it too late to change the penalty in the treaty so that a person can be executed in public?"

Carnifex’s footsteps paused at the Slater’s words and his eyes narrowed. "...no?"

Dane tilted his head in return, his expression so thoughtful that for a fleeting second he almost appeared sincere. A smile then cracked through his lips, as he said,

"You should be careful, Minister. Lip-reading is a thing, you know."

From afar, Ruelle seemed to catch the faintest trace of exasperation pass over Carnifex’s otherwise impeccable composure. The minister muttered, "So is privacy," before walking past the eldest Slater son.

A quiet chuckle escaped Dane when he felt someone’s eyes on him. But when he turned, there was no one looking in their direction. But he could already guess where it had come from.

"Ruelle!"

The voice echoed so loudly across the cemetery that birds burst from the nearby trees and conversations stopped. Even some of the officials preparing to leave looked towards the entrance.

Ruelle blinked in surprise before turning in the direction of the voice. Someone was charging towards her.

His dark coat flew open behind him as though entirely forgotten, his hair already dishevelled from what looked like a considerable journey, yet none of it slowed him in the slightest.

"Ruelle!"

"Your Highness?"

Behind the prince, Hermes looked considerably less enthusiastic. "Your Highness!" he called desperately while trying not to trip over a crooked headstone. "Please! We are in a cemetery!"

Edward either didn’t hear him or chose not to as the next moment, he threw both arms around her with enough force that she instinctively took half a step backwards to steady herself.

"There you are!" remarked the prince with a grin.

From the corner of her eye, Ruelle noticed Lucian standing exactly where he was but his eyes had slightly narrowed.

Edward released her just as abruptly as he had embraced her and he said,

"I heard your father passed away. So I packed my bags immediately."

"Bags?"

"Naturally," Edward huffed as if she were asking the obvious, "you require emotional support during such difficult times and have decided to live with you. Who better to do it than me?" The bright smile that immediately followed completely undermined the seriousness of everything he had just said.

It had been less than two weeks since she had last seen the prince, yet she somehow found herself surprised that he remained exactly the same. He still rushed into places entirely unconcerned by the number of eyes now fixed upon him.

One of the council minister who worked for Minister Sylvan appeared and began, "Your Highness, we weren’t expecting—"

"I am busy. Talk to me later," Edward waved his hand in dismissal without looking at the person. The minister turned red before bowing and stepping away. The prince then said, "Look at you, looking so frail. It seems like the Slaters didn’t feed you well," he clicked his tongue.

"Ruelle was living with her parents, Your Highness," Hermes reminded from behind, and Edward sent a silent glare.

"I should perhaps talk to her father then," Edward scoffed and then added, "Ah...but he is dead. Anyways, we should head out. There’s so much to catch up."

"For someone who left rather suddenly," Lucian said as he came to stand beside Ruelle, "you seem to have recovered quite well, Your Highness."

"Ah, Lucian Slater," Edward acknowledged with his eyes narrowing. "I see life has been treating you rather well."

"I’ve had no reason to complain," Lucian answered, and Ruelle felt his eyes fall on her.