Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Few meters away

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The knocks echoed through the house, pulling Mrs. Belmont from her afternoon chores. As she moved towards the door, she wondered who it could be. It couldn't be the debt collector—her husband had seen to their scheduled payment that morning. And Caroline was out enjoying herself at the seamstress's shop, spending the academy's compensation on a new gown.

Wiping her hands on her worn apron, she opened it with a smile. "Mr. Henley, what a pleasant surprise to see you at this hour. Please come in."

Ezekiel stood there, his expression taut with an unspoken frustration. He offered a courteous bow but declined her invitation. "That's quite alright. I am running short on time today."

After a loaded pause, he got to the heart of his visit. "Mrs. Belmont, I'm here regarding my request for Ruelle's hand in marriage. I'm puzzled as to why you have sent her to Sexton instead."

Mrs. Belmont returned his gaze with an apologetic sincerity. "I am sorry, Mr. Henley. Mr. Belmont was swift in his decision due to the strain of our financial situation, and I didn't have the opportunity to discuss the proposal with him beforehand. I did mention it yesterday, and he has agreed to give his blessing for the marriage to proceed."

Ezekiel's mind raced. He knew about Sexton more than these mere humans did. Ruelle's admission couldn't be easily cancelled. "And how do you propose we address this?" he pressed her.

"Caroline is arranging the wedding attire as we speak," Mrs. Belmont assured him with practised patience. "We will hold the ceremony in two weeks. Does this sound agreeable, Mr. Henley? We can make the necessary arrangements in the meantime. Ruelle will be home, and there will be ample time for all of us to prepare."

The assurance that Ruelle would indeed be ready for the ceremony seemed to pacify Ezekiel. His features relaxed marginally. "You will need to return the compensation to the academy within the end of this week; otherwise, it will be too late. I'll see to it that you have the necessary funds," he replied with resolve.

"That is most generous of you, Mr. Henley!" Mrs. Belmont responded, inwardly more than pleased.

She had guessed the man held a decent standing, judging by the polish of his shoes and the tailored cut of his coat. Yet, realising he had enough resources to pull Ruelle out of the academy confirmed the wisdom of her decisions.

Before evening set in, Ruelle completed her classes with Hailey, and they made their way through the bustling corridors of Sexton Academy, moving from the east wing towards the west.

"It is strange to have vampires and humans studying the same subjects," Ruelle mused, reflecting on their fifth class of the day.

"Actually, the Elites do follow different subjects after the first year," Hailey explained quietly, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. "I spotted this one vampiress in the library reading about psychology and emotional manipulation. I guess the curriculum is different for them than it is for humans, to better cater to the Elites."

"It seems like it," Ruelle murmured.

Hailey turned to Ruelle with a beaming smile. "You're so good at art, Ruelle. You are truly gifted." At Sexton, art had been introduced as part of the coursework, presumably to serve as entertainment for the vampires, a touch of beauty in their otherwise dark world.

"Barely," Ruelle replied, brushing off the compliment with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She longed to do better, feeling that her efforts were never enough.

"You're just being modest, aren't you?" Hailey teased gently. She then added, "I am so glad to have made a friend on the first day here." And Ruelle shared the same sentiment.

Just then, a harsh clinking of metal echoed through the corridor, slicing through the peaceful air like a knife.

As they turned their gazes down the hall, Ruelle's heart sank at the sight before her.

A vampiress strode confidently at the front, her golden mask glinting in the light. Behind her, a human Groundling followed, a stark contrast to his elegant captor. A metal collar was clasped tightly around his neck, a chain trailing behind him like a dark shadow, pulled by the vampiress's grip.

What sent chills down Ruelle's spine were the evident bruises marring the human's skin—visible reminders of his repression. Beside the masked woman walked another regal vampiress, their demeanour exuding superiority, while a Halfling trailed at the back.

Once the vampiress and her chained follower passed by and disappeared at the far end of the corridor, a ripple of whispers broke out among the students. The murmurs swirled through the air, primarily from the Groundlings.

"What was that? Who was she?" one voice quavered, filled with confusion and shock.