As embarrassed as Ruelle had been after the examination, she was relieved it was over. No one brought it up, as if it had never happened, and the seriousness of the Slater mansion was sothing she found herself quietly grateful for.
Right now, four of them approached the carriage as they were heading into town, to the seamstress’s shop. Ruelle climbed in first, followed by Lucian. Dane had co along as well, and before getting inside, he turned and offered Peyton a polite smile that stretched longer.
"Apologies, but the interior seats are only for family. You don’t mind sitting beside the coachman, do you?" Dane asked her.
Peyton stared at him for a brief mont, then glanced at Ruelle before making her way to the front to sit beside Claude.
Ruelle frowned slightly as she watched Dane climb inside and close the carriage door. Upon noticing her gaze, he tilted his head.
"She’s only doing her job," she murmured.
"I know," Dane replied with a sly smile. "I thought she might appreciate a bit of fresh air outside."
Was this about Peyton pointing out they weren’t siblings? Ruelle wondered. Dane didn’t strike her as soone who cared for such social distinctions. Soon the carriage lurched forward, the wheels rolling into motion as the horses pulled them away from the Slaters’ mansion.
"By the way... about Caroline," Ruelle spoke, looking at Lucian. "If what you said is true, shouldn’t Ezekiel be questioned?"
"He will be if he turns up to speak with Caroline," Lucian replied. Ruelle’s eyebrows drew faintly together. "Let us visit your sister later."
"You want to et her too?" Ruelle asked him.
"I have so questions of my own," Lucian answered.
Dane exhaled lightly before speaking, "I couldn’t trace any suspicious movent between Sexton and the village where the body was found. If he’s the one, he’ll either run away... or stay and hope no one looks too closely at him. Even though we shared the staffroom, there wasn’t anything particular we talked about," he chuckled. "Any new bodies?"
"Not the ones related to this case. Clifford’s was the last," Lucian responded. There was a possibility of bodies rising again depending on what would happen to Ruelle’s sister. "But there is a rise in Halflings’ death."
"I thought Halflings had better luck of the two kinds. Looks like a change in balance," Dane humd in thought. "Again?" he asked, the look in his eyes turning serious.
"The timing is a little too convenient," Lucian said. "Gaile is taking a look at it."
And while Lucian and Dane spoke about the cases, Ruelle tried to rember instances of Ezekiel, if there was a ti when his cris had peered through the cracks. Most of their interactions had always been brief, even in Sexton. It was probably the last two weeks that had turned ssy.
She turned her gaze back to the window, watching the passing snow-covered trees turn into a blur.
After a while, Ruelle’s gaze fell on the approaching large stone wall ahead of them. Her mind calculated the distance and speed with growing alarm. Weren’t the others seeing it? She said,
"I think we are going to crash into a rock."
Their carriage didn’t slow down. But as the carriage neared the wall, it passed through a dark tunnel before there was light again. Soon the carriage arrived at a town she had never visited before.
"This town was exclusively built for the pureblooded vampires," she heard Lucian explain. "A lone human or vampire cannot pass through it by themselves."
Ruelle looked surprised and she asked, "And it’s hidden through magic?" Did that an if a human was kidnapped here, the person wouldn’t be able to get out without a pureblooded vampire’s help? The thought made her pulse quicken.
"More like an ability," Lucian corrected. "The town was built years ago by one of the old pureblood family mbers. As a refuge, before our kind was known to yours."
The carriage finally rolled to a stop.
Ruelle stepped down onto the ice-covered ground. The air felt different here. The n and won appeared refined, belonging to the high-status as they moved. The streets carried more people than she’d expected.
The buildings were made of dark stone, tall glass windows displayed goods she couldn’t na, prices she couldn’t fathom, and luxuries like animal hide designed for people. There was no way a human could even think of affording even a kerchief in this town.
She felt like a lamb who had wandered into a den of wolves when people around caught the whiff of her human scent.
"Pay them no mind," Lucian remarked, glancing at her.
They then stepped inside the seamstress’ shop. Inside, the ceilings were higher than most of the shops she had seen, though the path between the tables was narrow, lined with fabrics and garnts. The place was warm with a fireplace burning brightly.
"May I take your coats?" asked a servant.
Ruelle removed her scarf along with her coat, as the seamstress would need to take her asurents.
"I will send my coachman to pick it up on Sunday then," ca a female custor’s voice from the room inside before the person stepped out. "I didn’t expect to see the Slaters here."
"Good morning, Lady Stelaris," Dane greeted, before he said, "Let go speak to the seamstress before she gets occupied," and with that he disappeared into the connecting room.
It was Lady Stelaris, Blake’s mother, whose eyes fell on Ruelle and she added, "And your guest. I was going to visit the Slater mansion to hand the Christmas invitation."
"We’ll be celebrating at the mansion," Lucian replied, his tone polite. "I’m afraid we’ll have to decline—we have other matters to attend to."
"Is that so," Lady Stelaris responded, a faint smile touching her lips.
She had hoped to find Lord Azriel, to revisit the conversation concerning her daughter and the youngest Slater. The eldest would have been the obvious choice... if not for the rumours that circulated, even among their own kind. Her gaze then shifted back to the young human’s neck and her brows rose.
"What an unconventional choker," Lady Stelaris murmured. "I had heard Sexton concluded its bidding. It seems you’ve been bought by a master. I did tell you couldn’t escape your destiny."
Ruelle hadn’t forgotten the hostility Lady Stelaris had shown her after Dane’s birthday. She t the vampiress’s gaze with a faint smile. She said,
"It’s a soul bond. Lucian placed it on ."
The vampiress’s eyes widened, her composure faltering before she whispered, "She’s marked by you?"
That wasn’t possible, Lady Stelaris thought, because Lord Azriel had told her that he would consider her daughter. Taken aback, she asked, "I thought your family was cautious when it ca to humans. Is Lord Azriel okay with it?"
"My father was the one who arranged it," Lucian said. He stepped past her. "You’ll receive an invitation."
Ruelle noticed how unlike their last exchange, the vampiress looked tongue-tied as if she lacked words to speak.
Had Blake known and failed to ntion it? Lady Stelaris’s jaw tightened. Without another word, she turned and made her way out of the shop. While not knowing that by the ti she reached her mansion, her daughter would have already left the place.
"She didn’t seem pleased." Ruelle watched the woman storm out of the shop.
"She will get over it," Lucian replied as they began to walk to the room connecting the front room. "A lot of families like to have their children married into equal or higher status. For the next few days, others may co forward to protest the treaty. So stay close."
"If I do get any closer, Peyton will report it," Ruelle joked, turning to look over her shoulder where the minister’s assistant walked behind them with a blank expression. "She said if the conditions aren’t t, I might end up living at the elder minister’s place."
"He wishes," Lucian muttered dryly with a hint of annoyance underneath his voice.
Once they arrived at the room, Ruelle’s eyes fell on Dane who was talking to the seamstress—who looked like a man. But the seamstress had long brown hair which moved past his waist and he had a quill stuck into his hair while his face was powdered and his lips painted red. He was striking to look at in a way that demanded attention.
"So this one’s the bride, hmm," the person humd long. "She seems quite taken by my beauty."
Ruelle offered a bow and murmured, "My apologies, I didn’t an to stare. Ruelle Belmont."
"Stare as much as you want. God made so that people can appreciate my looks," the person chuckled lightly. "I was wondering who caught the attention of the aloof Lucian when Dane said his brother was going to get married. You seem alright."
"Noah Dove is one of the most renowned seamstresses," Lucian introduced.
"It’s an honour to et you." Ruelle offered the person a polite bow. "I’m looking forward to wearing the dress you make."
Noah snapped his fingers and soon his female assistant appeared with a tape. The Slater brothers’ asurents were written down first, before Dane was led to pick the fabrics while Lucian sat on the couch, watching as Ruelle’s asurents were taken.
"Now, tell ," Noah said, glancing at her through the mirror. "What kind of bride are you?"
Ruelle blinked. "I’m not sure I understand."
"The kind who wants to breathe," he clarified, adjusting the tape at her waist, "or the kind willing to suffer for beauty."
"I would prefer to breathe. It is already going to be cold," Ruelle murmured. She hadn’t thought that her wedding would be held during this ti of the season.
Her stomach was aflutter with emotions as she was here as they were making a wedding gown. And this ti, the betrothal wouldn’t fall apart. This ti the groom-to-be wouldn’t end things.
"We can work with that. You already have a small waist, so it would need less pulling except for support, of course." Noah stepped back, studying her. "I am thinking silk and a quarter of lace at the top. A little sheer but tasteful. We go up till here?"
Ruelle nodded with a smile. "I think I like that. Maybe a straight neckline before the lace?"
"Hm, no sweetheart neckline? Wedding is rarely a simple day," Noah stated.
Across from where Ruelle stood, Lucian watched her in silence, his head resting lightly against his hand, his gaze steady.
She looked better today compared to the hurt that had crossed her features yesterday in the garden. It had only been a flicker, but he had caught it when he had denied her request.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t. He just didn’t want to.
The sa subject could often be painted in different ways, and he had no desire to share how he saw her with others or what she beca in his thoughts. His gaze was fixed on her. So things were not ant to exist beyond him.
Soon, several rolls of fabric was placed on the table, each a different shade of white. Ruelle’s gaze moved from one to the next, her expression softening with quiet interest. She hadn’t known there could be so many variations.
"These are all beautiful," she said in awe, her hand reaching for one of them. "What shade is this?"
"This is pearl white. But I think you would like the swan one better," Noah said, excusing himself to fetch it himself. Just as he passed Lucian, following the direction of his gaze. He teased, "You might ruin her reputation just by looking at her like that."
Lucian didn’t respond to it, and instead he pulled a folded parchnt from his trousers pocket and handed it to the person.
"Hm?" Noah glanced at it, then unfolded the parchnt. His brows lifted slightly. "My, my... does she know what she’s agreed to?"
Lucian didn’t look at him and said, "Make it as designed."
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