Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-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."

It was a subtle jab, but the truth in her words gave them an edge. For a moment, Alanna’s expression darkened, her ruby eyes narrowing. She recovered quickly, her practiced smile sliding back into place. "Your kind? How intriguing. And what family, pray tell, do you belong to?"

"The D’Arvelles," Kevin replied smoothly, his voice carrying the perfect blend of arrogance and disinterest.

"D’Arvelles?" Alanna echoed, her brows lifting in mock surprise. Her smile deepened, but it carried no warmth. "How unexpected. I was under the impression that family had... faded into obscurity."

"Obscurity is often mistaken for discretion. We simply prefer to avoid unnecessary spectacle," Ruelle said smoothly, her faint smile an elegant weapon.

Alanna’s amusement flickered, the polished mask of her expression faltering ever so slightly. She murmured, "How intriguing. Strange, though—I’ve attended countless court gatherings and never once heard of the D’Arvelles attending. Do you prefer your affairs... private?"

"Let us just say that privacy has its advantages. I am sure you know people like that?" Ruelle raised her eyebrows.

Alanna’s smile tightened, her lips thinning. Before she could respond, a maid appeared with a tray of glasses, bowing slightly as she presented the drinks.

"Wine, miladies?" the maid asked softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her unease.

Ruelle and her friends took a glass of wine each. But as the maid turned to offer one to Alanna’s hand brushed the tray with carelessness. The wine glasses toppled, crimson liquid splattering across the maid’s apron and face. The tray clattered to the floor, the sound cutting through the murmurs of the nearby crowd like a whip.

"Oh dear," Alanna said, her laughter light and cruel. "How clumsy. Humans truly are hopeless. You’ll have to clean that up, of course."

The maid’s face paled as she dropped to her knees, hurriedly gathering the fallen glasses. Alanna nudged one with the tip of her heel, sending it rolling out of reach. "You missed a spot," she said mockingly.

Ruelle’s fingers tightened around her glasses, the edge of her glove creasing under the strain. Every instinct urged her to step forward, to pull the maid to her feet and wipe away the stain of humiliation, but the weight of their fragile facade anchored her in place. Her chest burned with the effort to restrain herself.

Alanna turned back to Ruelle, her smirk widening. "Don’t you agree? Humans are so... graceless. Tiresome, really. It’s a wonder we bother keeping them around at all."

Now impersonaing a vampire, Ruelle didn’t hold back and answered, "Grace isn’t defined by one’s station, milady. It’s defined by one’s actions. And no amount of silk or jewels can disguise a lack of it."

"How bold," Alanna said at last, her tone brittle. "But I find it curious—your insistence on defending such lowly creatures. Surely someone of your supposed standing wouldn’t concern themselves with such trivialities."

"It’s in how we treat the ’trivial’ that we reveal our true nature. Or do you believe cruelty is the height of elegance?" Ruelle asked the vampiress.

Hailey clutched her glass like a lifeline, her knuckles pale beneath her gloves and she was quick to take a couple of sips from her glass. Kevin’s jaw twitched, his eyes darting to the maid as though calculating the risk of stepping in.

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

"Surely," Ruelle replied, her voice even but her gaze unflinching.

Alanna glared at Ruelle for a moment longer before turning sharply, her minions trailing behind like shadows. As the tension in the air eased, Kevin let out a low whistle, leaning towards Ruelle and he said, "That was... something."

Ruelle exhaled slowly, her trembling hands hidden behind her back as she tracked Alanna’s retreating form, her heart still pounding in her chest. She prayed the vampiress wouldn’t delve too deeply into the fabricated existence of the D’Arvelles. A prickle of unease brushed the back of her neck. Somewhere in the crowd, she felt the weight of a gaze that lingered too long on her.

"I’m absolutely loving this, Rue—"

"Shh!" Kevin’s panicked hiss cut through Hailey’s words, his eyes widening in alarm.

Ruelle’s gaze snapped to Hailey. Her friend stood there, her cheeks flushed and her smile far too broad, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Hailey swayed slightly, the stem of her glass tilting precariously between her fingers.

Ruelle’s eyes dropped to the empty glass in Hailey’s hand, dread pooling in her stomach. "Hailey..." she said slowly, her voice tinged with disbelief, "did you drink all of it?"

Hailey blinked at her, as if surprised by the question. "I was so worried I needed to keep myself busy!" She giggled softly, leaning heavily against Ruelle. "And it was really... really good."

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

Ruelle reached to hold Hailey’s arm lightly to steady her. She asked worried, "Are you feeling okay?"

Hailey nodded enthusiastically, and replied, "I’m fine, I promise! Better than fine, actually," but she swayed as her focus darted around the room.

Kevin muttered under his breath, "She’s completely gone. What do we do—"

Before he could finish, Hailey grabbed his arm and exclaimed, "Let us dance!" she dragged him.

"Dance?" Kevin looked horrified. But they were already half way towards the ballroom floor. "Come on, Ren!" Hailey insisted, using his fake name with surprising accuracy, though her tone was far too loud and bubbly for their delicate charade. "Let’s have some fun for once. Don’t be so boring!"

Left standing alone near the edge of the ballroom, Ruelle allowed herself a deep breath, the knot of tension in her chest loosening slightly. She scanned the room, keeping a careful eye on Hailey and Kevin as they joined the swirling dancers. For now, all she could do was stay vigilant and hope they could all keep their masks firmly in place.

"Fair lady," a smooth voice came from the side, pulling Ruelle from her thoughts. Turning her head, she saw a vampire in a tailored grey coat.

"Aren’t you going to dance?" he asked, his voice casual but probing, as though testing her boundaries.

"No," Ruelle replied, her voice coming out too quickly, slicing through the gentle hum of the ballroom. Her immediate response sounded curt, almost defensive, and she regretted it instantly. She tried to recover, her lips curving into a polite smile. "What I meant is... I’m quite content here."

The vampire chuckled softly, the sound reverberating with a touch of amusement that didn’t reach his eyes. "Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you." He dipped his head slightly, a gesture more calculated than sincere. "I am Anthony Meyer, final year," he added, letting the name linger as though it carried weight. "And you are?"

The name struck her memory like a faint chime, just out of reach but no less unnerving. She pushed the thought aside, too focused on keeping her composure to chase it. She responded, "Claire."

"A lovely name," Anthony said, his gaze drifting over her with a slow, measured intensity that sent a chill up her spine. It wasn’t admiration. It was scrutiny. "A lady of mystery, I see. But tell me, Claire—are you truly content to linger here, away from the entertainment? Or are you simply waiting for someone bold enough to coax you onto the floor?"

Ruelle’s eyes flicked towards the ballroom floor, where Hailey and Kevin were entangled in a dance that could only be described as awkward at best. They seemed to be enjoying right now. Hailey’s carefree laughter rose above the murmur of voices, a contrast to the tension curling in Ruelle’s chest.

"I’m quite alright," she replied, injecting lightness into her tone. Her polite smile remained, though the strain behind it was evident. "The view from here suits me just fine."

"It’s a shame to see such beauty in stillness," Anthony remarked, his words laced with something darker. "A rose should never be left to wilt in the corner."

The metaphor coiled around her unease like a tightening vine. Wanting nothing more than to end the conversation, she placed her glass on a nearby ledge and decided, "I guess I could use some fresh air."

She stepped towards the edge of the ballroom, hoping her moving away from Anthony would deter him. But he followed, his predatory grace shadowing her every step. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned to face him. "I should get back in," she said curtly, hoping to discourage him.

Anthony’s smile widened, his tone dipping into something chillingly casual. "I have dressed dolls before, and I can tell the difference. It is obvious that you hide something."

Her heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through her resolve. Her gaze snapped to his, searching his face for some sign of what he knew—or what he thought he knew. Dane’s warning surfaced in her mind like a ghostly echo ’Anthony Meyer’s next. He’s got a... fascination with dolls. Likes to dress up his human roommates.’

Before Ruelle could respond, Anthony stepped closer, his presence pressing against her like a heavy weight. His hand lifted towards her face, gloved fingers brushing the air with deliberate slowness. "Though perhaps the mask isn’t necessary," he murmured.

"Don’t," Ruelle warned, her voice slightly wavering. She took a step back, but he matched her movement easily, his vampiric grace making her feel trapped.

"Just a peek," Anthony coaxed, his lips curving into a smile that was anything but kind. "I’m sure it’s worth—"

A sharp, resounding slap echoed in the air as Anthony’s hand was knocked aside with a force that startled even him. His arm recoiled instinctively, and his eyes widened in shock as a shadowed figure stepped forward from behind Ruelle, the person’s presence commanding and unmistakably dangerous.

"Try to touch her again and you will lose more than your hand," the voice growled, dark and lethal, "So do yourself a favour and walk away while you still can."

Ruelle turned swiftly, her breath catching in her throat. A tall figure loomed behind her, his presence a dark storm. Strands of his dark hair swept across his brow, accentuating the sharp angles of his face, his eyes narrowed in piercing annoyance.