Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149: What Is Given Cannot Be Refused

On their way to the castle, two royal guards rode ahead of the carriage, their silhouettes steady while four followed behind. Inside the carriage, Ruelle sat quietly with the others, a faint dread settling low in her stomach, which only deepened with every beat of the horses’ hooves.

The place was less than an hour’s ride from the fair and as they neared and soon the castle came into view. Tall spires pierced the sky, their peaks nearly swallowed by the heavy stretch of darkened clouds above.

"Why has the king summoned us as well?" Ruelle asked, glancing at Edward, who seemed far more interested in the passing view beyond the window.

"The guards must have noticed a group of humans lingering around me at the fair," Edward said lightly. "Though I suspect it was the drunken man who started the fight that drew their attention. Otherwise, I doubt anyone would have recognised me. My disguise was rather good."

"Your Highness, I think it would be best if we got you into a fresh pair of clothes before meeting the king," Hermes suggested quietly.

"Sure. By the way, Ruelle, I would like to show you the gardens," Edward said, bright with enthusiasm. "They are rather well kept. I do not think you would have seen anything quite like them."

This was not the time to think of gardens, Ruelle thought in worry.

When the carriage finally came to a stop before the castle’s entrance, one of the guards stepped forward and opened the carriage door.

As Ruelle stepped down, her eyes took in her surroundings. Her gaze did not linger long before it fell on the men who had attacked them earlier. They were being taken down from the back of the carriage now as though they were luggage.

Edward stepped inside and Hermes followed just behind him. As Ruelle and her friends crossed the threshold, a guard’s voice spoke behind them.

"Not you."

Ruelle turned at once and noticed two guards had stopped Claude from entering the castle. The guard spoke firmly, "Coachmen remain outside."

Edward had already walked a few steps ahead, unaware of what happened at the entrance. When Ruelle’s eyes met Claude’s, he offered her a small, reassuring smile. He informed her, "I will be waiting here, Miss Ruelle."

For a brief moment, her lips pursed. Then she gave a quiet nod before turning back and continuing inside.

She walked with the others, her gaze lifting briefly to the high ceiling above, when the sound of approaching footsteps was heard loud and clear.

Her eyes lowered in time to catch a tall man approaching, his broad shoulders draped in a coat lined with dark fur, moving with quiet authority. His dark red eyes were steady, unyielding, a faint cut resting across his left brow as though it had never quite faded. A trimmed beard framed the man’s jaw, making his expression severe.

This was Edward’s father, King Septimus, Ruelle realised.

A brief silence fell with the footsteps coming to a halt. Soon she and the others were quick to offer a bow.

"And what exactly am I to make of this?" King Septimus hummed, his deep voice reverberated through the hall. His gaze moved from the tattered clothes to the blood that soaked through it. "You seem to have injured yourself rather carelessly, Edward."

"It is a small injury," Edward replied. "Nothing worth concern, Father."

"Is that so?"

There was no haste in the king’s movement as he stepped towards his son. When he stood before him, his gaze lowered briefly to the wound, and he murmured, "Let us see how small it truly is."

Before Edward could respond, the king’s hand lifted. His index and middle finger pressed into the injury without warning.

Ruelle, who caught sight of this, her eyes widened. What was he doing...? She noticed how Edward’s body tensed, his hands tightening and his teeth clenched. He had begun to bleed once again.

King Septimus withdrew his hand with quiet displeasure.

"Negligible," he repeated, as though testing the word. His gaze lifted back to Edward’s face. "You would do well not to misjudge your own condition. A man who cannot assess his injuries cannot assess his battles."

"I am aware of that..." Edward’s face tightened in pain.

"Edward, I don’t want to see you in this state again. Else it would make me think you have grown weary of your royal name," King Septimus stated, and as if to make a point, his fingers curled, making Edward cough out blood. "I sent you to Sexton to learn, not to make a spectacle of yourself, but to prepare for what you are meant to inherit one day."

Ruelle’s hands clenched at her sides, her fingers pressing into her palms. He was hurting an already injured person! As if sensing her gaze, the king’s eyes moved to her, and she quickly lowered her eyes.

Edward’s breath hitched as the king’s fingers finally withdrew. He drew in a slow breath, and he huffed,

"For a moment, I thought you meant to examine my heart more closely, Father."

The king let out a low, dry chuckle, as though faintly amused by his son’s words. His gaze returning to the prince, he remarked, "One must be certain that nothing of value is lost when it strays beyond the walls."

Ruelle noticed how Hermes stood tense in the king’s presence, as though even a breath out of place might be wrong. After all, he was the prince’s attendant, and the prince had been hurt while under his watch.

Kevin who stood next to her had turned pale in the king’s presence, while she could only see Hailey’s hands trembling so that she tried to keep still.

"I must be your favourite son," Edward muttered under his breath, his tone light despite the strain. "You seem particularly thorough with me."

King Septimus did not respond to that. Instead, his gaze fell on Hermes. He demanded, "Who dared to lay hands on him?"

’You’, came the collective thought from everyone standing there. But no one dared to say it out loud.

"It was three humans, my king," Hermes answered, his head lowered.

At once, the king’s gaze moved and fell upon the three humans standing behind.

Ruelle felt the weight of the king’s gaze and she instantly felt a weight press against her chest. She quickly clarified,

"It was three men at the fair."

"Yes... three men," Hailey added, lifting her head only briefly before her gaze dropped once more.

Ruelle did not wish to know how the king would react if the truth came to light. That this had begun because of her... no, because of her father. She had seen how he treated his own son and she did not risk it. She intended to keep her head where it belonged.

"I have already dealt with them, Father," Edward answered, a trace of dismissal in his voice.

The king placed a hand against Edward’s back, the gesture firm. He said,

"Nonetheless, an example must be set." His gaze then shifted. "Hermes, have them brought to the main hall."

"At once, my king," Hermes replied, more than willing to carry out the order.

Edward glanced down at his chest, his fingers brushing lightly against the blood that had begun to seep through his clothes. When he looked up again, he noticed his father’s gaze resting on the three humans behind him. As though only just remembering, he introduced.

That was why she was here? The tightness in her chest eased, though only a fraction.

"My friends and I have only accompanied him during our studies," Ruelle said. "It is good that the prince has taken to his lessons and I am sure he will do well for our lands."

Who was she to refuse a little gold?

"Indeed," the king responded.

When the doors opened behind her, Ruelle guessed it to be Edward. But instead, it was Hermes. He entered with the guards, and between them, the three men from the fair were dragged inside, who had regained consciousness now.

Ruelle’s gaze moved between them, uncertain.

The doors shut behind them and the men were forced to their knees, fear settling across their faces. The men quickly bowed in the king’s presence. But before anyone could say anything, the bearded debt collector was the first to notice Ruelle in the room. He quickly dropped forward, his head touching the ground in haste.

"Forgive me, please," he said, his voice breaking. "I did not mean to hurt you. I only meant to frighten your father... for what he owes. I have a family to feed—please, you must understand!"

Beside him, the man whose nose she had broken begged next, "I will not come near you again. Not you, not anyone you know! Please forgive us."

Ruelle’s mouth went dry, and she heard King Septimus speak, "What occurs within my family is of no concern to others nor do I interfere without reason. But when harm comes from outside, it is something I cannot overlook and need to see the person punished."

Her body froze. Her lips trembled, before she replied,

"The prince acted of his own will. We did not call for or expect his intervention."

"Are you saying it isn’t your fault that he got hurt?" King Septimus’ voice turned dangerously low. When his eyes narrowed, Ruelle tried to keep herself steady.

"No... I would not presume to judge it. It was an accident," Ruelle explained, while feeling tension rise in the room. Internally, bells of alarm were ringing in the back of her head. "My king, I would not wish harm upon the prince. It is the last thing I would want."

"Some weeks ago, Edward wrote to me," King Septimus said, his finger tapping once against the arm of the seat. "He spoke of a woman he had encountered in Sexton. That he found himself drawn to her and wished to spend the rest of his life with her. That he intended to make her his mistress."

Ruelle swallowed at the recollection.

The next moment, King Septimus moved. Ruelle did not see when he reached them, only that he was suddenly there.

His hand then suddenly shifted, the shape of it no longer human. It turned into something sharper and harder, like a metal. Then in a single motion, heads fell before the sound followed, blood spread slowly across the floor.

"It is decided," King Septimus said, a cloth handed to him as he wiped the blood from his hand. He turned to Ruelle and stated, "You will be his mistress. That is your reward."

"What?" Ruelle whispered, her hands shaking and her throat felt like closing. She whispered, "I... I don’t want the reward."

King Septimus gave a faint nod. He replied, "I am aware. Which is precisely why you are suitable. It would be wise to accept what has been given."

The bloodied cloth slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. The blood crept slowly across the floor, stopping just at the edge of Ruelle’s shoe.

"And Ruelle..." His gaze sharpened, turning fully on her. "As Edward’s mistress, you would do well to remember your place and to keep your distance from men who presume to offer you gifts... You would not wish for those you hold dear to meet a similar end, do you?"