Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Scent of forgotten shadows

It was past five in the evening, and Ruelle sat curled up on the worn velvet couch, her knees tucked beneath her. The low rumble of thunder rolled outside, shaking the windows with its distant warning of a storm. Faint echoes of muffled laughter outside the heavy wooden door could be heard.

Dane had left an hour ago, hovering like an older brother Ruelle had never had the opportunity to know. He made sure she ate and rested. Now alone, she read a book Hailey had passed to her two days ago. Her friend’s words were, "I was told it was going to be helpful in Seduction Techniques class," but just a few pages in, her cheeks burned.

This was the type of book that, if caught reading outside Sexton, women would be dipped in a bathtub of holy water. Yet she couldn’t deny the curiosity that tugged at her as she flipped to the next page.

’...her breath hitched as his lips brushed her ear, his voice low and commanding. His fingers teased beneath the edge of her dress, tracing the line of her thigh—’

"Feeling better?"

The deep voice startled her, and Ruelle slammed the book shut, fumbling to shove it behind her pillow. Her wide eyes flew to the doorway. There stood Lucian, his tall figure half-shadowed against the dim light of the corridor. His dark cloak hung off his shoulders, dripping rainwater onto the floor, his expression neutral but sharp enough to set her heart racing.

"I—" Ruelle cleared her throat, her cheeks burning. "I didn’t hear you come in."

"I noticed," Lucian replied dryly, stepping fully into the room. "I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important," he added, his tone as smooth and cool as the storm air outside. His gaze flickered to the pillow briefly, then to her flushed face.

"No, I was just reading," Ruelle said quickly, her voice uneven. "I’m feeling better. Dane made sure I rested."

"I see," Lucian murmured. He then turned towards the open door and instructed someone outside, "Bring it in and set it by the bath."

Soon, Ruelle noticed two guards step into the room, carrying a tall, polished wooden divider between them. Without a word, they placed it neatly beside the bath and straightened as though awaiting further orders.

"Dismissed," Lucian said flatly, shutting the door behind them as they left. When his eyes met Ruelle’s, he said, "I thought it would be inconvenient to ask you to leave the room every time I needed privacy."

"I am sorry for causing you inconvenience," Ruelle murmured, her voice small. _{ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom}

"Don’t trouble yourself with idle thoughts," Lucian replied coolly as he shrugged off his cloak. Water dripped onto the floor as he hung it on the coat rack. His damp hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it back with a precise, impatient hand. He then moved to the drawer, pulling out a bundle of candles.

"Let me do that," Ruelle said quickly, rising from the couch.

"Sit." The single word, spoken softly, carried an authority that stopped her mid-step. Lucian turned his head, his dark eyes pinning her in place.

"But—"

Lucian’s slight narrowing of his eyes silenced her, and she sank back into the couch. "You’re still recovering," he remarked, his voice low but firm. "Stop wearing yourself out trying to please everyone."

When he returned to his task, lighting the candles around the room, the golden glow flickered to life, casting warm shadows on the walls and illuminating his sharp features. She couldn’t help but think how light had a strange way of softening even the hardest of edges, as though it were intent on unravelling the aloofness he so carefully maintained.

The next day, the storm had passed, leaving Sexton bathing in warm sunlight.

Inside the potion classroom for first years, the Groundlings and Elites sat in front of flasks and tubes. Ruelle sat between Hailey and Kevin. Mr. Savantique, their instructor of the class, spoke,

"Today, we will attempt to make an exciting potion that delves deep into the soul," he began, his gaze sweeping the room. "A memory potion, if done correctly, can pull forth repressed or forgotten memories. If done poorly—" He paused, letting the silence stretch. "—it might summon... less pleasant things. Things that frighten and worry you. This exercise is designed to be harmless physically, but I must caution you that it would be better to get it right the first time."

A murmur rippled through the students, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Proceed with care," Mr. Savantique continued, his tone both warning and encouraging. "As always, the key lies in balance. Too much of one ingredient, too little of another, and you risk tipping the scales. Pay attention to the instructions that have been placed before you. A reminder that it takes twelve ingredients to make."

Ruelle exchanged a glance with Hailey, who seemed as excited as her to get started. As much as they walked on eggshells at Sexton, it was classes like these that made this place something to look forward to.

"Women should have no trouble creating the perfect potion," Hailey commented as she began to cut and powder one of the ingredients.

The recipe was simple and the ingredients were placed on the shelves for the students’ use. But as Ruelle added each component to her cauldron, she felt a strange weight settle over her. The mixture bubbled and hissed, its colour shifting unpredictably between pale red and then dirty brown.

"Why do all our potions look different...?" Kevin asked in worry. "Mine has turned pink..."

"Because you are leaving the potion to brew with only four of the required ingredients, Mr. Reynolds," Mr. Savantique appeared right behind him. "Even if everyone gets the details right, even a minute makes a difference, and the memory viewing might not be the same for every person."

Mr. Savantique then walked to look at Ruelle’s potion, before glancing at Hailey’s cauldron and then moving to the next student.

"I think my potion is ready," Ruelle murmured. As the potion settled into a pale silver hue, a faint mist began to rise from it, curling delicately upward.

"I am almost done too!" Hailey replied with excitement.

Kevin looked unsure at his potion, and said worried, "Why do I feel like I am going to see a ghost?"

Ruelle leaned forward, letting the mist reach her face. The scent was faintly prickly, like breathing in grounded chillies, but with a sharp metallic edge that sent a shiver down her spine. It curled towards her nose and mouth, and she felt an odd pull, as if the potion were drawing her in. Her surroundings began to blur, the laughter and chatter of the classroom fading into a distant hum.

Suddenly, Ruelle felt that the sunlight streaming through the Potion Room windows was gone, replaced by the flickering orange glow of firelight. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. A low, feral growl rumbled in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of steel clashing against steel.

What is going on?! Ruelle asked herself. Did her potion go wrong? Was she hallucinating? Before she could think further, she heard her father’s voice, sharp and demanding.