Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 56: The Weight of Small Things

Ruelle could still feel the dull throb and heat emanating from her ear—and it wasn’t from the needle. It was from where Lucian’s fang had sunk in.

Her fingers hesitantly brushed against the spot, feeling the faint, lingering warmth. It wasn’t painful, yet something about it felt... different. Like a whisper of something foreign beneath her skin, something that didn’t quite belong to her.

Outside, the rain drummed softly against the windowpane, a steady rhythm against the cold stone walls.

She hadn’t expected him to bite her. Had it been necessary? To scare her, maybe. A flush crept up her neck, and she forced herself to shake the thought away. It wasn’t a big deal. Vampires bit people all the time. Still, she found herself watching him as he stood.

Clearing her throat, she murmured, "Thank you."

Lucian barely glanced at her.

"Don’t mention it," his tone was so nonchalant that for a brief moment, she wondered if it had even happened at all.

The candle on the chair flickered as he moved away, his presence still heavy in the air.

Ruelle exhaled and turned towards the long mirror. Opening the small velvet box, she studied the earrings her instructor had given her.

Tiny diamonds. Small enough to be unassuming, yet still undeniably expensive for someone like her. How generous though, she thought to herself. For all that Sexton demanded from humans, its generosity in return felt almost calculated.

Would they even be allowed to keep them after the assignment was assessed? Or was this another reminder of their place—something to give, something to take away? She sighed internally. It didn’t matter.

She reached up, guiding the first earring toward her ear—

"Don’t."

The word sliced through the silence of the room, sharp enough to make her fingers still mid-air. She blinked, her gaze snapping toward Lucian in the mirror. Slowly, she turned to face him fully.

"...What?" Ruelle asked him.

Lucian leaned back slightly in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his posture impossibly unbothered. His dark eyes flickered briefly to her ear before settling back on her reflection.

"The piercing is fresh," he said, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "It could get infected."

Ruelle blinked, thrown off by the unexpected concern. No, that wasn’t the right word. For a moment, she almost nodded in agreement. It was true—some of the other students had been dealing with bruised, swollen piercings. Some had even had infections.

"But I need to wear them for the test," she pointed out.

Lucian, whose fingers had reached for a book near him, paused. He didn’t look at her. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, before he finally asked, "And?" frёewebηovel.cѳm

Ruelle frowned slightly. "And... everyone else is wearing theirs."

She heard him exhale, before swivelling in his seat to turn in her direction.

Then, like stating an undeniable fact, he flatly said, "Isn’t it simple? You aren’t worthy of it."

The words landed no less than a slap on her face. She stiffened. Her fingers tightening around the earring in her palm. The insult crawled under her skin, burned its way through her chest, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

"What?" she uttered, the disbelief sitting heavy on her tongue.

Her face burned from the sting of humiliation. She knew Lucian held humans in contempt. But this was uncalled for.

"You heard me," Lucian replied calmly.

It wasn’t just what he had said—it was how he said it. There was mockery woven beneath every syllable. Like she wasn’t even worth a proper insult. Not worthy. Not good enough. Her nails dug into her palm, pressing into the tiny, expensive diamond she still clutched.

She swallowed, trying to force it down. She demanded, "So then why did you even bother?"

"Bother?" Lucian blinked, as if mildly amused. She saw him lean back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, his expression unreadable.

"If you despise humans so much, why help me with the piercing at all? Why not let me fail entirely?" She questioned him.

"And deny you the pleasure of thinking you had a chance?" He taunted her, with his gaze flicking up to hers. "Now where would be the fun in that?"

How cruel... Ruelle thought to herself. The worst part was that he said it so smoothly, that she couldn’t even tell if it was a lie. Or if he truly meant it.

"Then I suppose I should be grateful, shouldn’t I? For your generosity in watching me suffer," Ruelle shot back in response to his words. Feeling hurt, which she tried to hide while her voice quivered in the end. "Thank you, for reminding me of my place."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the door so that she could stay away from him. At least for the night.

"By all means, run along," Lucian remarked from behind, "I hear the hallways are particularly safe this time of night where a Groundling doesn’t get attacked."

"I’ll make sure not to get attacked. I wouldn’t want to give you another satisfaction," Ruelle muttered before stepping out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, while she stared into the empty corridor. The feeling of humiliation didn’t disappear. Lucian’s words shouldn’t have hurt, because he didn’t know her. But those words had been uttered in the past.

"Always trying to bring us shame, you aren’t worthy of being a Belmont," her father’s voice echoed in the back of her head. "A girl like you should know when to be grateful."

Her steps faltered slightly, breath coming unsteady. Her eyes prickled, but she fought the familiar ache in her chest.

She had thought Lucian was different.

Not that she expected kindness from him. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that. But after he had helped her most of the times, some part of her had believed that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t like the other Elites.

The following day, after the last ink-stained pages had been turned in and the weight of the week’s tests had finally lifted, Ruelle returned to her room, feeling lighter than she had all week.

No more late-night studying. No more ink-smudged fingers or endless pages of essays. Just one last thing left—submit the piercing assignment.

Trailing behind her, Hailey absent mindedly touched her earlobe, admiring her reflection in the mirror. "They actually look lovely," she hummed, tilting her head this way and that, watching the tiny diamonds catch the light. "Though, it was awful when Blake pierced them. I thought I was going to pass out—and it was my own fault for telling Blake to go slow."

Ruelle dropped her bag on the couch and asked, "Why would you tell her to go slow? That’s the worst thing you could ask for."

"I thought easing into the pain would help!" Hailey flailed dramatically, then sighed, flicking a loose curl over her shoulder. "But all I got was a drawn-out nightmare."

Ruelle laughed, shaking her head. "I guess there’s no easy way to do it, is there?"

"Not really, but then again, maybe we have it easier," Hailey continued to speak while Ruelle had stepped towards her desk. "You know, I heard some of the students are going down to the river tomorrow. It’s supposed to be beautiful this time of year—do you think we should go?"

"Maybe," Ruelle acknowledged as her fingers brushed over the parchment, books, and the cool glass of the inkwell—but not the velvet box.

Hailey then said, "I still can’t believe they gave us diamonds. Even if they’re small, they are real. Can you imagine? They could solve most of our problems."

A small crease formed between Ruelle’s brows. She checked the side drawer, then the small cabinet by the bed. Nothing. Her stomach tensed slightly. It should be here. She was certain she had placed it on her desk last night. Or had she moved it elsewhere?

No. No, no, it has to be here.

"You look pale," Hailey observed, her voice breaking through her thoughts. "Ruelle?"

"I can’t find the box," Ruelle admitted loudly in worry.

"Did you take it with you this morning?" Hailey blinked, her casual stance shifting slightly.

"No," Ruelle shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"I left it right here last night." She retraced her steps in her mind. "I’m going to fail the assignment. I can’t submit them if they’re missing."

"You pierced your ears. That’s what matters, right? Gemma isn’t going to fail you over something this small," Hailey tried to reassure her.

Ruelle hesitated, anxiety pressing at her chest. She said, "I don’t know. I’ll just explain it to her and tell her I will wear it once I find them."

Hailey nodded, confident. "And if we tell Mr. Henley, he’ll smooth it over for you. He’s a good person. He will help."

And yet, as they stepped into the hallway, Ruelle couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t simply misplaced them.

On her way to the instructor Gemma’s office, Ruelle couldn’t help but wonder where the velvet box had disappeared to. She had searched every inch of her room—but it was simply gone. Did someone enter the room after she and Lucian left? Her first suspicion fell on Alanna. After what happened two days ago, it was hard to believe the vampiress wouldn’t try to retaliate.

She exhaled slowly, gripping the side of her skirt as she walked.

After Hailey finished her turn in the instructor’s office, Ruelle stepped forward and knocked. The faintest "Enter" came from within, and she carefully pushed the door open.

Ms. Gemma Gilbert sat poised behind her desk, her quill scratching against parchment. She didn’t acknowledge Ruelle at first. Then, without looking up, she gestured vaguely toward her ears and said, "Let me see them."

Ruelle lifted her chin slightly, brushing her hair aside to reveal the two piercings. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t the instructor’s look of disappointment. She had stuck tiny twigs into the piercing.

"Did you miss something, Ms. Belmont?" Ms. Gilbert’s voice was calm, but her chin tilted subtly.

Ruelle swallowed.

"Earrings," she admitted. "Actually, I lost them, M—"

"Lost them?" Ms. Gilbert repeated. Not accusing. Not suspicious. Just... assessing.

Ruelle nodded quickly. "I—" she hesitated, "—used small twigs to keep the holes from closing."

"That much I can see," Ms. Gilbert murmured. Then, after a pause, she said, "To have lost the diamond-studded earrings. A little careless, isn’t it? Are you certain you lost them?" Her tone didn’t change, but the words felt heavier. "Or did you set them aside for something else?"

"No—nothing like that," Ruelle answered quickly. "I saw them last night, but this morning, they were gone. But I’ll search again and wear them the moment I find them. I didn’t intend to be careless."

Ms. Gilbert watched her for a long moment, before she sighed, the faintest note of disappointment slipping through.

"Intent means very little when result speaks louder," the older woman said. "You might think that because certain instructors here favour you, you can bypass expectations."

Ruelle’s breath hitched. That wasn’t—

"But allow me to remind you—Groundlings must learn responsibility. Seduction Techniques is an art. In skilled hands, words and glances can topple empires. For one of low birth, even the crown is not beyond reach—or close enough to touch. But such power demands discipline. If you cannot be trusted with something as small as a pair of earrings, how will you be trusted with more?"

The vampiress took a slow breath, the quill stilled mid-air, her gaze lingering on Ruelle just a moment too long—as if she had expected better.

"I promise I am not irresponsible," Ruelle’s fingers curled at her side, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Perhaps." Ms. Gilbert hummed—she returned to her writing. Then, without lifting her gaze, she wrote something next to Ruelle’s name and informed her, "You fail this test."