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.
A first-year Elite, unmasked and standing confidently among his peers, replied with an air of arrogance, "That's the Duke's daughter, Lady Angelina Ravenscroft."
Everyone, including Ruelle, turned to regard the young vampire as he continued, "That's what happens when you fail in more than two subjects. You're put on sale because everyone knows worthless things need to be sold quickly before they become completely useless."
His callous words struck a chord within Ruelle. The harsh reality of their world loomed before her—failure was not an option. She couldn't afford to fall behind like the Groundling she had just witnessed.
Subconsciously, Ruelle's hand drifted to the locket nestled against her chest, safely hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. The locket, a cherished keepsake from her deceased mother, and it was something she often drew courage from.
"We need to pick up the rest of the syllabus and our schedule starting tomorrow," Ruelle reminded Hailey.
"You're right! I completely forgot about it!" Hailey exclaimed. They quickly made their way down the corridor, navigating through the crowd of students to go to the assigned building.
Not far from them, in the next building, Lucian strode alongside Sawyer, the pair adorned in their respective masks. The subtle elegance of their attire and the intimidating air they exuded made it easy for junior students to recognise them on sight. As they passed by, the students quickly stepped aside.
"Oi! Walk slowly! It's hard to get a good look at the new arrivals when you're moving so fast," Sawyer complained, puffing slightly as he struggled to keep pace with Lucian's long strides.
"I didn't tell you to follow me," Lucian replied, his voice flat and clipped as they marched down the corridor, the dim lighting casting shadows over his brooding features. "You're free to stay back and enjoy pointless conversations."
"That's a rather rude thing to say to your friend. Actually, to your cousin!" Sawyer shot back, disbelief creeping into his expression as he turned to meet Lucian's unwavering gaze. "You seem crankier than usual since this morning. Hehe," he added with a sheepish smile.
Lucian rolled his eyes. As they approached the door to the staff room, Lucian and Sawyer walked past glass walls that glimmered in the dim light, the upper panes shimmering like crystalline barriers above the sturdy, cemented lower walls. Stepping inside, Lucian's gaze scanned the room.
"Lucian!" Dane exclaimed, an eyebrow raised in playful surprise. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Lucian advanced into the room, the tension of the day easing slightly as he replied, "I am looking for Claus."
"Hmm, I haven't seen him since lunch," Dane responded, his amusement fading momentarily as his brow furrowed, picking up a curious scent in the air. "It looks like someone has changed their perfume. Didn't know you were into fruity scents, brother."
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly at Dane's playful implication. "It's the orange juice," he muttered, annoyance creeping into his tone.
Dane's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. It was very unlike his younger brother to be clumsy with anything, let alone a drink. His gaze shifted beyond the glass wall, and he caught sight of Ruelle outside in the corridor with scrolls in her hand.
"How were your classes?" Dane called out absently.
"Boring," Sawyer was the one to answer.
But it was Dane's next words that caught Lucian's attention—"Mine was rather interesting. I met someone. Ruelle Marie Belmont."
For a fleeting moment, Lucian's hardened facade faltered, revealing a depth of surprise. He hadn't anticipated hearing that name, an echo from the past that threatened to cloud his judgement. The name stirred memories long buried—memories tinged with bitterness. He quickly masked his surprise, hardening his expression once more.
"I don't recall who that is," Lucian replied coolly, his voice clipped as he brushed the mention aside.
"Is that so? She's standing outside now," Dane said, casting a casual glance towards the window before turning back to talk to Sawyer.
Although Lucian didn't immediately react, he felt a shift in the air. He said, "Inform Claus that I was here if he comes by," his voice steady as he turned to leave.
The same time outside, the scrolls Ruelle was holding slipped out of her hands because of how full her hands felt and she bent down to pick them up, leaving Hailey in standing.
"Sure thing," Dane replied.
Before Lucian could leave, his eyes fleetingly found themselves glancing beyond the glass. His eyes caught sight of the short brunette hair, a stark contrast to his memory and he stepped out of the room. He walked in the other direction without looking behind. It wasn't her.