Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Climbing without threads

The weight of the borrowed boots on Ruelle’s feet tugged at her steps, the oversized leather strange as she focused on walking steadily. It wasn’t until a gentle pressure on her arm that she noticed Ezekiel’s hand resting there lightly.

"Mr. Henley," Ruelle said softly, while pulling the mask from her face. She glanced down at the faint outline of his hand against her sleeve, her tone edged with polite warmth. "I think it’s alright now. There’s no one around to notice."

Ezekiel turned his gaze to her, pausing briefly before murmuring, "Of course."

He withdrew his hand slowly, his fingertips brushing her sleeve as though reluctant to part, lingering just a fraction too long. As they continued to walk, Ezekiel couldn’t help but stare at her. Something about her appearance reminded him of her scent that night he had hugged her, the hesitant warmth of her presence. The memory burned like a brand.

"They don’t suit you, you know," Ezekiel said casually, his voice breaking the quiet.

"What doesn’t?" Ruelle asked, her voice soft but curious.

"The boots," he said, his lips curving into an almost-smile. "You should leave them here. No one will fault you."

Ruelle glanced down at the oversized boots. They were awkward and heavy, a stark contrast to her delicate frame. Still, she shook her head lightly, her tone thoughtful. "I can’t. Leaving them behind would be rude when I need to return them to Lucian."

Ezekiel’s expression didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened, the shift so subtle it could have been imagined. "How selfless of him," he murmured, his tone low.

As they rounded a corner, and Ruelle’s gaze caught movement ahead. Kevin and Hailey stood at the far end of the corridor, their faces pale but relieved upon seeing her. Kevin met Ruelle’s eyes, his glance flicking briefly to Ezekiel before returning to her, a silent question lingering in his gaze. She gave him the faintest nod. Without a word, the pair disappeared from sight.

Ezekiel’s gaze followed hers. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"No," Ruelle said quickly, her smile returning, soft and reassuring. "It’s nothing."

"Ruelle, as your guardian here, I feel it’s my responsibility to ask... Did someone force you to attend the soiree? Was it Lucian?"

Ruelle blinked at the question, her brows drawing together. "No," she replied, her tone firm but confused. "It wasn’t like that. My friends and I wanted to go. It was our idea."

Ezekiel exhaled softly, his disappointment evident despite the faint smile on his lips. "Your parents wouldn’t approve of such things," he said, his voice steady but tinged with reproach. "If they knew..."

"My parents sent me here knowing I’d be surrounded by vampires," Ruelle interrupted gently, her polite tone holding an edge of weariness. "A small soiree shouldn’t be a surprise to them. They would probably be glad that I’m making connections."

Ezekiel’s expression softened as they walked, though his tone carried a calculated weight. "You know, Ruelle," he began, glancing ahead as if speaking carefully, "it’s admirable how you’ve managed so far because I was truly worried. But it’s easy to forget just how dangerous things can get here."

"Are you talking about... tonight’s incident?" Ruelle asked, with her footsteps faltering for a moment.

"In part," Ezekiel replied, a faint sigh escaping his lips. "But I was thinking more broadly. The Elite students. For instance your roommate." He let the words hang in the air, watching for her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Ruelle tilted her head, unsure where he was going with this. "Lucian?"

Ezekiel’s smile thinned, and he said, "Lucian, and others like him. They’re powerful, Ruelle. Too powerful. When I was a student here, the Elites didn’t think twice about putting people like me in our place. Humiliation was their currency. Even now, as a faculty member, their sense of superiority hasn’t wavered."

"Did something happen when you were here?" Ruelled frowned.

Ezekiel gave a short, humorless laugh. "Let’s just say I learned quickly that no matter how hard I worked, how much I tried to blend in, I was always... beneath them. You can’t trust people who believe they’re inherently better than you."

"Lucian hasn’t—" Ruelle stopped herself, unsure how to finish. Lucian hadn’t done anything to make her feel unwelcome, but Ezekiel’s words planted a small thorn of doubt. Lucian Slater was, after all, an Elite.

"Perhaps not yet," Ezekiel said smoothly, catching her hesitation.

"I don’t think he’s like that," Ruelle replied, though her voice lacked the certainty she wanted to convey.

Ezekiel’s gaze lingered on her, his tone soft but deliberate. "Someone like Lucian walking barefoot through the cold for a Groundling? It’s not in his nature, Ruelle. Elites act for their own reasons, never for charity."

Ruelle frowned, her steps faltering. "I think he did it because we’re roommates."

Ezekiel’s lips quirked in a knowing smile. "Perhaps. But consider this—he never wanted a roommate, especially not a human one. Did something happen to change?"

"My patience has worn thin, Belmont. Don’t test it," Lucian’s voice echoed in her ears.

"You’re fortunate that your foolishness hasn’t cost you your life yet. Just because my brother left you to share my room, I have no intention of rescuing you every time you decide to stumble into danger."

There was no denying Ezekiel’s concern sounded genuine, and his words echoed the warnings when she’d first come to Sexton. Still, moving rooms felt like an overreaction for what happened tonight. She shook her head lightly and said,

"Thank you, but I think for now I would like to stay here." There were people like Alanna, who were still after her.

Ezekiel’s smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes and he said, "Of course. It’s your decision."

When they reached her dormitory door, Ruelle turned to thank him, but Ezekiel began, "Your parents," his faint smile softening the sharp intensity of his gaze, "they’ve returned from their vacation. They mentioned wanting to have dinner together this weekend. I could arrange a carriage and accompany you—after all, I’m heading that way myself."

Ruelle hesitated, her hand brushing the doorframe. "Maybe next weekend," she said finally. "I have tests to prepare for."

"Ah, yes. The tests." His gaze dropped to her ears. "You’ve not completed the piercing requirement yet. I could help—it’d only take a moment. I have something that numbs the pain."

Ruelle shook her head quickly. "I’ll manage, thank you."

His smile softened, but his words carried a strange weight. "Fairness aside, you’re important to me, Ruelle. Your safety is my priority."

She nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. "Thank you, Mr. Henley."

"Ezekiel," he corrected gently. "We’re past formalities, don’t you think?"

Ruelle hesitated before nodding again. "Ezekiel."

Ezekiel’s hand reached briefly for her when she turned, but he let it fall to his side, his smile fading into something unreadable. "As you wish," he said softly, his voice carrying a strange weight. "Good night, Ruelle. Rest well."

"Good night, Mr. Henley," she replied, slipping inside and closing the door behind her.

Far away from the dormitories, the air in the faculty hall was heavy with unspoken tension. The sharp, clipped tones of the instructors reverberated through the dimly lit space. Outside, leaning against the cold stone wall, Lucian Slater listened in silence, his arms crossed and wearing a blank expression.

"Twelve humans," an instructor muttered grimly. "A waste of investment and resources. They were part of the new recruitment batch."

"Not to mention two Elites—one dead, the other barely clinging to life," another added, his tone sharp with frustration. "This will reflect poorly on Sexton."

Lucian’s gaze flicked toward the slightly ajar door. The voices inside continued.

"Edmond," Mr. Oak’s voice cut through the murmurs. Though his face held a disarming smile, the air seemed to grow colder in his presence. "I want the new recruitment efforts in motion immediately. Offer the families terms they simply cannot refuse.."

"Yes, Headmaster," Mr. Mortis replied with a small bow. "I’ll start at first light."

Mr. Oak’s tone softened, but the weight of authority remained. "We cannot afford to let the academy falter now. King Septimus has expressed his intent to send the prince to study here for a short time. When he arrives next month, I expect him to find everything in perfect order. No disruptions. No delays."

When the instructors began to leave one by one, the headmaster finally stepped out. Mr. Oak’s presence seemed to command the hallway itself, his sharp gaze landing on Lucian like a hawk surveying its prey.

"Lucian," he began, his tone smooth but layered with authority. "Your father must be very proud. It is not every day one sees a son of Lord Azriel demonstrating such exceptional composure and skill under pressure."

"I only did what was necessary," Lucian replied evenly, meeting the headmaster’s piercing grey eyes without faltering.