Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Masquerade Mishaps

Invitation?!

Behind her mask, Ruelle’s mind raced. Hailey, who had been so bubbly and confident moments ago, now stood frozen beside her, her shoulders stiff with tension. Kevin’s hand twitched nervously at his side, his breath shallow and barely audible.

The silence stretched, and no one moved.

’Well, if you change your mind, don’t be shy to ask for an invite,’ Sawyer’s words echoed in the back of Ruelle’s mind.

Her heart thudded, adrenaline rushing through her veins as the taller of the two guards stepped forward. The faint scrape of his boots against the stone floor felt unnaturally loud. If anyone found out they were impersonating vampires, it would be a disaster.

Ruelle’s nails dug into her palms, grounding her as a reckless and absurd idea took hold. She forced calmness into her movements as she stepped forward.

"Invitations?" Ruelle repeated with a drawl, as if the very word were beneath her. Tilting her chin just enough to appear both arrogant and dismissive, she let out a sharp exhale, the kind one might use when dealing with particularly insubordinate staff. "I should have known. My father always complains about this—every time he’s come here, he mentions the manor’s tardiness. You must be new not to recognise the distinguished D’Arvelles."

Behind her, Kevin made a small noise of confusion, but Hailey quickly elbowed him, silencing any protest. Ruelle felt the guard’s gaze drilling into her. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she kept her face confident.

"I don’t need an invitation. Unless, of course, you have something against my family?" she continued, meeting the taller guard’s gaze with a glare. "Or perhaps you would prefer I tell my father about your... tardiness in recognising the pureblooded vampire lineage?"

The taller guard hesitated, his scepticism lingering. Ruelle caught the slight flicker of doubt in his gaze, her fingers trembling for a fleeting moment before she clasped them behind her back.

"Perhaps there’s been a mistake," the taller guard muttered.

"Oh, no mistake," Ruelle interjected, her voice now sickly sweet, tinged with menace. "Unless, of course, you count the mistake of wasting my time. My siblings and I," she gestured lazily toward Hailey and Kevin, "have travelled all evening. And this—this is how we are greeted? Celia, Ren, have you ever seen such incompetence?"

"Never! I’ve never seen anything like it. Completely disgraceful," Hailey declared, her voice a little too high-pitched.

The shorter guard cast a nervous glance at his partner before stepping aside, his face pale as he muttered, "Our apologies, milady. Welcome to Chateau Noir."

Ruelle swept past them without so much as a glance, her midnight blue gown whispering against the cold stone floor. The heavy oak doors groaned shut behind them, muffling the low murmur of the guards. Hailey and Kevin followed closely, their footsteps muted against the cavernous corridor.

In the corridor, the candles flickered atop iron stands, their light pooling on the polished stone floor as the vaulted corridor stretched ahead like a cathedral. The cool air carried the tang of melted wax and ancient stone, weaving with the muted strains of distant music.

The moment the guards were out of sight, Kevin let out a ragged exhale that shattered the oppressive silence.

"D’Arvelles? Since when are we the D’Arvelles?" He whispered, his voice tight with disbelief.

"Since a minute ago," Ruelle replied, her tone calm, though her heart still hammered against her ribs. She glanced at a towering window draped with heavy velvet curtains. Beyond the etched glass, the night loomed, vast and impenetrable.

Hailey glanced nervously over her shoulder. "I thought I was going to faint there. They never mentioned anything about invitations!" she whispered, adjusting the ties on her mask. "You were incredible, Ruelle. Terrifying, but incredible."

Kevin let out a shaky laugh. "Incredible? It was like a ghost possessed her."

Ruelle allowed herself a small, nervous smile, though it was hidden behind her mask. Her earlier confidence felt like a thin veneer over her fear. "Let’s just hope we don’t run into anyone who actually knows the D’Arvelles," she murmured quietly.

"We’re definitely tonight’s appetiser," Kevin muttered, tugging at his collar.

"Celia," Hailey said, testing her fake name with a grin. "I like it. Very elegant."

"Let’s keep moving," Ruelle urged softly, her voice calm despite the knot tightening in her stomach.

As they walked deeper into the corridor, a pair of grand doors loomed ahead, their dark wood carved with intricate, curling patterns of roses and serpents. The hum of voices and clinking glasses grew louder, mingling with the music as it poured through the cracks in the wood.

Ruelle hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The doors stood as an invitation and a warning, their carved roses and serpents seeming to whisper promises of elegance—and peril.

The heavy oak doors groaned open, revealing the grand ballroom. A ripple of light from the chandeliers danced across the polished marble floor, reflecting the crimson hues of the roses that adorned every corner. The faint strains of an orchestra wove through the air, accompanied by the murmur of voices and the soft clink of glasses.

Ruelle stepped into the gleaming floor. The dress hugged her frame like an heirloom, its intricate beading catching the flicker of candlelight. She felt the weight of countless gazes on her, dissecting, assessing, prying. Her heart thudded, but she kept her posture straight, her mask hiding the fear that threatened to unravel her.

Behind her, Kevin and Hailey moved cautiously, trying to mimic the effortless grace of the vampires who surrounded them. Kevin’s jaw tightened, and he whispered under his breath,

"Am I the only one who feels like a goat that just wandered into a lion’s den?"

"You aren’t alone," Ruelle replied, her voice carrying an edge. She could feel the weight of too many gazes on them—eyes that dissected, questioned, and assessed with unnerving precision.

Ruelle’s gaze drifted toward the far corner, where a figure caught her attention. Her breath stilled.

Lucian.

He sat on a low, plush couch, his posture both relaxed and commanding, his long legs crossed with the elegance of a ruler holding court. The dark wine in his glass swirled slowly as he moved his wrist, the deep red liquid mirroring the color of his eyes. His black hair framed his sharp features, falling carelessly over his forehead.

Around him stood a small circle of vampires—vampiresses with eyes gleaming like polished rubies, their laughter melodic yet clear. Male vampires with aristocratic sneers exchanged words in low tones, clearly trying to gain Lucian’s favor. He listened with an air of detached authority, his gaze dispassionately flicking from one speaker to the next.

For a moment, Ruelle’s world narrowed to him. The faint curl of his lips bordered with cruel amusement, the kind that whispered he could see through every mask, every false pretense. And then his eyes snapped to lock onto hers.

Ruelle’s heart jolted anxiously. His stare was sharp as a dagger, and it pierced through her mask, through her false composure. Her hands clenched at her sides, her breathing shallow as panic coiled in her chest.

But just as quickly as the moment came, it passed. Lucian’s gaze slid away, his expression unchanging, his attention returning to the person speaking next to him. He didn’t glance back.

Ruelle let out a sigh of relief.

"Why is she coming over here?" Kevin’s tense whisper jolted Ruelle back to the present.

"Who?" Hailey’s voice wavered.

Before Ruelle could respond, a voice dripped with honeyed malice sliced through the hum of the ballroom, "Good evening."

Ruelle turned slowly, willing her trembling hands to remain steady. Every muscle in her body tightened as her gaze landed on Alanna. The vampiress moved with predatory grace, her ruby lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her calculating eyes.

"I couldn’t help but notice your grand entrance," Alanna said, her tone smooth and honeyed. Her gaze swept over Ruelle’s midnight-blue gown, lingering on the intricate beading and rich fabric. "That gown... how striking. Quite exquisite, really. I’ve only seen such craftsmanship on those who frequent the King’s court."

Ruelle’s pulse hammered in her ears. The borrowed gown clung to her like a fragile lie, its elegance drawing exactly the kind of attention she wanted to avoid. She forced herself to breathe evenly.

"I didn’t expect anyone here to recognise its craftsmanship," Ruelle said softly, her tone laced with just enough arrogance to fit the role she was playing.

Alanna tilted her head, the corner of her lips curling. She remarked, "How curious—I’ve never seen you before. And I never forget a face."

Ruelle felt Hailey stiffen beside her, while Kevin’s jaw twitched, his body coiled as though preparing to intervene. They were balancing on a knife’s edge, and one wrong move could send them tumbling.

Forcing herself to meet Alanna’s gaze, Ruelle replied, "That’s because we have never met before. I don’t frequent your kind’s circles."

"Hmph. This has been... enlightening," Alanna said with a practiced smile. "Until next time, Lady D’Arvelles. Maybe our paths will cross again soon." _{freewёbnoνel.com}

Kevin shot Ruelle a desperate look, his expression screaming what do we do now?