Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 47: Perfume, Pretence, and Peril

When the sun had set, Ruelle and her friends found themselves in the west wing’s room—where the past lingered. Furniture, trunks, and dust filled the space, the air heavy with the scent of time and neglect. Every creak of the floor seemed deafening in the otherwise stifling silence.

Ruelle’s fingers trailed over faded wood as she opened a trunk, pulling out the curtains first, beneath it was a deep blue fabric. It was an Elite’s robe. She wondered if it belonged to a past student.

"I can’t believe we are doing this," Kevin whispered, glancing nervously towards the door. Because this storage contained Elite’s things, and a human had no business here. "How do we know the person who gave you that potion isn’t setting you up to be someone’s midnight snack?" His voice was low, but the worry in his tone was evident.

Ruelle placed the Elite robe at the side and asked, "How long does this vampire perfume stay?"

"Three hours," Hailey replied, her arms elbow-deep in another trunk before standing straight. "I have never been to one of these things. I’ve heard about the gowns, the lights, and the music. I just wanted to see it once." After a pause, she asked, "Do you think this is a mistake? Maybe we shouldn’t..."

Ruelle saw the longing in Hailey’s expression, a yearning that mirrored her own. Despite the danger, the allure of stepping into the forbidden world tugged at her, too.

"We came here for clothes," Ruelle said gently. "And I’m sure Kevin’s curiosity isn’t letting him leave. I think at this point it is safe to say that somewhere we all want to go."

"Curiosity isn’t always a good thing," Kevin muttered. But then, with a resigned sigh, he held up a set of masks he had found in one of the trunks. "But it looks like we are all in."

Curiosity was the key that opened forbidden doors, but once inside, it was often hard to step out of it.

Ruelle’s gaze drifted to a rack tucked in the corner, barely visible under layers of dust and forgotten garments. As she sifted through the hangers, her fingers brushed against a black dress with delicate lace sleeves. She carefully lifted it from the rack and asked,

"What about this one?"

Hailey exclaimed, "That’s gorgeous! You have to try it."

But Ruelle shook her head, noticing the way Hailey stared at the dress, almost mesmerized. "Why don’t you try it, Hailey?"

"Me?" Hailey blinked, startled. "But it’s perfect for you."

"And it’ll look lovelier on you," Ruelle said firmly, pressing the dress into her friend’s hands.

While they continued to search, Kevin had managed to find a pair of black trousers and a faded shirt. But when he wore it, the shirt tore with a sharp rip. "These clothes are barely holding together," he glanced at the torn fabric, his irritation barely hidden.

Ruelle passed him the robe she had earlier found and said, "This should cover any possible tear. Nothing that can’t be mended."

"Thanks," Kevin took the robe, draping it over his shoulders and straightening the collar. He glanced at his reflection in the dusty, cracked mirror leaning against the wall. He remarked, "Clothes really do make the man. I would make a better vampire than the usual vampires."

Ruelle couldn’t help but smile faintly at his attempt to lighten the mood. But before she could respond, a faint creak echoed from the hallway. She froze, her heart stuttering. The sound was distant—but it sent a chill skittering down her spine.

A faint scrape followed, the sound of a shoe brushing against the floor, closer this time.

"Did you hear that?" Hailey whispered, clutching the dress to her chest.

Ruelle nodded, her breath shallow. The group fell silent, the tension thick as the door handle rattled, the noise loud against the stillness. Then, slowly, it creaked open, and they hid behind the furniture.

Two figures stepped inside, their silhouettes sharp against the dim light of the corridor. The group held their ground as the figures moved closer.

For a brief moment, Ruelle and the others felt as if the two people were Elites. But then came the soft glow that belonged to the lanterns. She glanced sideways at Kevin and Hailey, both crouched low behind a stack of chairs.

The voices grew louder, their words more distinct as the two figures moved deeper into the room, their footsteps careful.

"Is it okay to come here?" one voice hissed, low and harsh. It belonged to a young male, who was a human.

"Relax," the other young man replied with irritation. "No one’s going to catch us. They’re too busy prepping for the soiree. And you heard what the seniors said—it’s the event of the season. We’d be idiots not to go there. Besides, you don’t want to live your whole life on the sidelines, do you?" ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Ruelle felt her breath hitch. A soiree. They were planning to sneak in, too.

"I hope this one works! I thought Sexton was the one that changed us," said the first one.

As the two young men walked further into the room, Ruelle quickly moved to Kevin, who was the closest from where she was. She gestured him silently towards the door and they turned to Hailey to point in the direction of the door.

"Not always. The Elites have the power to turn us into Halflings, which is why we need to show that we are worthy of it. I don’t want to live like a pathetic human anymore," huffed the other young man and beginning to rummage through the things.

The trio bolted from there. Slipping out the door and down the hallway. Once they were far enough from the storage room, Kevin exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging in relief. "It would be funny if most of the humans end up at the soiree."

Ruelle proposed, "Let’s just get back to the dormitory before anyone else shows up."

They hurried through the corridors, and Kevin was the first one to slip into his room. Ruelle and Hailey made their way through the stairs, and before they could part, Hailey caught her arm and thrust something into her hands.

"I grabbed it at the last second," Hailey said with a grin. "Good night, Ruelle!" she whispered, before running in the direction of her room.

The room was quiet as Ruelle closed the door behind her, the faint echo of her footsteps vanishing into the heavy quiet. Her breath came slow and measured as she moved to the couch, her hands tightening around the bundle of fabric Hailey had pressed into her hands earlier.

Ruelle sat on the edge of the couch. She peeled back the outer layer of cloth. The candlelight wavered, revealing the midnight blue dress. The sleeves were transparent enough to seem almost unreal, as if spun from the dark water. It was unlike anything she had ever owned—timeless, almost regal.

Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the delicate fabric. Growing up, her wardrobe had consisted of her younger sister Caroline’s hand-me-downs—somehow always fitting her thin frame. The years of neglect had left her wiry and frail, and she’d never thought much of herself or the way she looked. Care and vanity were luxuries reserved for others.

A faint sound startled her—footsteps outside the door.

Ruelle hurriedly tucked the dress away from anyone’s sight, as she pushed it into a corner of her trunk. Just as she straightened, the door swung open with a low creak.

Lucian stood at the entrance, his sharp, striking features framed by the dim light spilling from the corridor behind him. Next to him was Sawyer, his easygoing demeanour a stark contrast.

"No one is stopping you," Lucian said, his voice calm. He stepped into the room, shrugging off his coat with practiced ease. "You are free to go and indulge in whatever pleases you." Tossing the coat over the back of a chair, he continued, "I just fail to see the point in attending something so tedious."

Sawyer let out an exasperated groan as he followed him inside, running a hand through his tousled blond hair. He asked,

"Tedious? It’s tradition! Music, wine, dancing, intrigue—it’s practically the only thing worth looking forward to in this dull place." He flopped onto one of the chairs, throwing Lucian a look. "And let’s not forget, half the women wouldn’t bother coming if you weren’t there. Imagine their despair."

Lucian shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. He remarked, "If their lives hinge on my attendance, then they must be even duller than I thought."

"You’re impossible," Sawyer let out a theatrical groan. It was then that he noticed Ruelle, his expression brightening instantly. "Hey, Ruelle! There you are. Don’t think I saw you at dinner today."

Ruelle blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice her absence, least of all Sawyer. "I... I was with my friends," she said quickly, her voice steady despite the way her nerves tightened. "Studying for the upcoming tests."

Sawyer’s grin widened, his usual warmth softening the edges of the moment. "Studious as always! But you know, all work and no play..." His voice trailed off as an idea seemed to dawn on him. "Wait—why don’t you join us tomorrow night at the soiree? It will be delightful!"

Ruelle opened her mouth, scrambling for a polite refusal, but before she could speak, Lucian’s gaze snapped to Sawyer. The shift in his demeanour was immediate—his red eyes narrowed.

"Delightful?" Lucian’s voice was calm, the kind that felt like the first snap of frost in autumn. "Don’t be absurd, Sawyer. A human like her doesn’t belong at an event like that. She would be better off staying where her kind belongs."

The cold words hung in the air. Ruelle’s chest tightened, the sting of his dismissal sinking deep. She forced herself to smile, polite and unflinching. "Thank you for the invitation," she said to Sawyer, her voice fragile under the weight of Lucian’s glare. "But I’ve already made plans. I’ll be spending the night studying."

Sawyer winced slightly at Lucian’s harshness but quickly recovered, his easy charm smoothing over the tension. "What a shame."

Lucian’s red eyes landed briefly on Ruelle before shifting back to Sawyer. He asked coolly, "Are you finished playing social ambassador?"

Sawyer raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfazed. "Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to brood in peace." Rising to his feet, he turned to Ruelle with a warm smile. "Well if you change your mind, don’t be shy to ask for an invite. Don’t let the tests—or Lucian—get to you."

Ruelle risked a glance at Lucian, who was now undoing the buttons of his shirt. She quickly averted her eyes, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

If she wasn’t meant for their world, why did the allure of it call to her so strongly? And why, despite his words, did Lucian’s earlier glare feel less like an insult and more like a barrier he was determined to keep unbroken now?

"You should focus on your studies. It would be unwise to get distracted," Lucian said suddenly, his voice impersonal but carrying an undertone of sharp finality. "The last thing I need is to be saddled with a failing student as a roommate."

The words were practical, almost dismissive, but they carried an undercurrent she couldn’t quite place. Not warmth—never that—but something that felt less like disdain.

"I will," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. After a pause she asked, "May I ask for your assistance in a subject? If you have time," she added.

Lucian’s dark gaze flicked towards her. He leaned back slightly and asked, "Have the instructors of Sexton already failed to do their jobs?"

Ruelle flushed. She replied, "It’s not that... They’re very competent. I just... There’s an equation I can’t seem to solve. It’s for potions."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. He then extended a hand with a deliberate slowness that made her hesitate, and he said,

"Let me see it, then. I suppose it would reflect poorly on me if my roommate couldn’t manage a simple equation."

Ruelle hesitated for a beat before turning to retrieve the parchment from her desk. She handed it to him, her fingers brushing his briefly in the process. The fleeting contact sent a jolt of something unidentifiable through her, and she quickly withdrew her hand, clasping it tightly with the other.

Lucian’s eyes dropped to the parchment, scanning the intricate scrawl of symbols and ingredients with a precision that felt almost surgical. "This is..." He tilted his head slightly, the sharp lines of his features catching the dim light. "Needlessly convoluted."

Ruelle’s cheeks heated. "I was trying to—"

"Overcomplicate it," Lucian interrupted, his voice brisk but not unkind. "The issue isn’t with the equation. It’s with how you’re seeing it. Look here." He gestured with a graceful flick of his fingers to a cluster of symbols on the page. "You’re treating these as if they’re independent variables. They’re not. The purrpaw stabilises the wilter’s reaction, not disrupts it."

Ruelle leaned in instinctively, her eyes following his explanation. "But the purrpaw properties—"

"—are neutralized when paired with crushed cone root," Lucian finished seamlessly. He picked up a quill and made several precise adjustments to the parchment, the movements fluid and confident. "Potion-making isn’t brute work. It’s the art of balance and intention. If you rush, you ruin it."

Ruelle watched in silence as he worked, the mess of her own attempts dissolving under the elegance of his corrections. Lucian spoke as if the principles of alchemy were woven into his being.

"There," he said finally, handing the parchment back to her. His crimson eyes met hers briefly, holding her gaze just long enough to make her pulse quicken. "Still so impossible?"

Ruelle shook her head, unable to hide her awe. She said, "Thank you. You made it very easy."

Lucian leaned back, his tone cool and dispassionate. "It’s not difficult when you understand what you’re doing."

Ruelle hesitated, then ventured cautiously, "You seem so... good at this. Did you study potions in depth?"

Lucian’s gaze darkened slightly, his expression sharpening into something guarded. "I studied because I had to," he said, his voice quiet yet resonant. "The deeper you go, you realise potion-making isn’t just formulas and proportions. It’s the understanding that every ingredient you choose can carry consequences—some you don’t come back from. Damage is never far when you tamper with nature."

The weight of his words hung in the air, stirring a curiosity in Ruelle she didn’t dare voice. Instead, she straightened, clutching the corrected parchment close to her chest. "I appreciate your help," she said softly.

Lucian glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his expression aloof. After a pause, he murmured, "Don’t waste it."

The next evening, most of the Elites had left for the manor before the hour of supper. Thankfully for Ruelle and Hailey, Blake had left early too and this gave them time to get ready.

Ruelle stood in front of the mirror now, staring at her reflection. The dress, though stunning, felt like an ill-fitting mask, a pretence that clung to her skin. Her blonde hair had been styled into a half-up, half-down look, the loose waves tumbling over her shoulders in a way that felt natural. Hailey had insisted on pulling out a few strands to frame her face.

Hailey peeked around Ruelle’s shoulder, her grin wide and triumphant. "We look incredible, don’t we? Like we belong to one of those mansions."

"Let us hope everyone else thinks so too," Ruelle replied softly, catching Hailey’s excitement even as her nerves twisted tighter.

A soft knock at the door startled them both. When they opened the door, it was Kevin who slipped inside quickly.

"You scared us there," Hailey shook her head before going to fix her mask, which Ruelle helped with.

"Scared you? I was scared the entire walk in the corridor, feeling as if I am a thief," Kevin’s words rushed.

"Alright! The last part before we leave!" Hailey announced, uncorking the vial of perfume with a flourish.

Ruelle stood still as Hailey approached, the faint scent of mint and something metallic wafting through the air. The first spritz was cold against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She resisted the urge to flinch, keeping her gaze fixed on the mirror.

Her breath hitched as the transformation began. Her irises deepened into a vibrant crimson, glowing faintly against her pale complexion. For a moment, she didn’t recognise herself. The face staring back from the mirror was eerily elegant, like someone carved from porcelain and given life. Not human. Something else.

"Whoa," Kevin said, his voice breaking the silence. He leaned closer, studying her with wide eyes. "You... actually look like one of them."

Ruelle glanced at him, startled. "Really?" she asked.

"It’s your skin," Hailey chimed in, nodding thoughtfully. "It’s so fair, almost translucent in this light. Add the red eyes, and honestly... you could pass as a vampire any day."

Kevin stepped back, shaking his head. "Creepy. Seriously creepy," he muttered as Hailey turned to him with the vial.

"Your turn," she said with a grin, spritzing the perfume onto him before he could protest.

Kevin coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. "This stuff is strong. Do vampires really smell like this?"

"It isn’t strong," Hailey shot back, rolling her eyes. "You’re just not used to it. Now hold still."

As Hailey finished spraying herself, Ruelle’s attention drifted to her reflection. Her red eyes still glowing, unsettling in their vividness. The minty sweetness of the perfume clung to her, a reminder of what they were attempting.

This felt like a dream, she thought, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

The soiree loomed in her mind—a world she had no place in, a game where the stakes were her very survival. And Lucian... Knowing he would be there sent a fresh wave of nerves coursing through her. She hoped even he, who was observant and sharp, would be hoodwinked by her appearance.

Hailey clapped her hands together, breaking the silence. "Three hours. That’s all we’ve got," she reminded them, her tone both firm and excited.

Ruelle tore her gaze from the mirror to glance at the clock. It was nine. "Three hours," she echoed softly.

Kevin pulled his mask into place, muttering under his breath. "Here’s to not dying tonight."

Hiding their faces, the three of them left the corridors and stepped into the woods in the direction of the forest.

Ruelle’s heart hammered in her chest as the mansion came into view. Its towering spires and glowing windows loomed against the night sky, a stark reminder of how far they were venturing from their world.

"This is insane," Kevin muttered nervously as he adjusted his blue robe.

"I don’t see others around," Hailey remarked, her voice quieter.

Ruelle glanced over her shoulder, finding the woods eerily still.

"It is possible that they are already inside, and we are late. I wonder if the other humans have already arrived," Ruelle said, her gaze fixed on the grand doors of the mansion. Her fingers curled into fists beneath the folds of her gown as they approached the guards.

The guards’ red eyes glowed faintly as they regarded the three of them, their faces stern and unreadable. The tallest among them stepped forward, and held out a hand, his fingers clad in leather, and demanded in his gravelly voice,

"Invitations." And they had none.