Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 66

Chapter 66: The Quill’s Price

"You’ve almost got it," Ruelle said, leaning over to point at the equation. "You just missed a step here—see?"

"Ah... right." Leslie’s brows drew together, who sat beside Ruelle. Her hair fell forward as she bent over her book with the quill in her hand. "I forgot."

Right now, three lanterns burnt brightly in the room, their glow spreading across the table. The books laid open along with notes spread out between Ruelle, Hailey, Kevin, and Leslie. The faint rustle of paper and scratch of quills filled the room.

"That’s alright," Ruelle assured. "This one is trickier. It’s not the formula—it’s the amount of ingredient to use that catches people. Once you remember which ingredients use which percentage value, it’s straightforward." She slid her notebook toward Leslie. "Here. Copy these down—they’ll help."

Leslie’s mouth twitched, the ghost of something that might have been gratitude—or hesitation. "Thanks for helping me again."

"Don’t think of it like that," Ruelle replied lightly. "It’s nicer to work with someone than alone."

"She’s right," Hailey added, tapping her quill against her notes with an easy grin. "And you’ll see that your results will start climbing fast."

"Still," Leslie murmured, glancing at her hands, "not everyone says yes when you ask. Even Groundlings. People worry they’ll be pushed down further..." Her smile was bashful.

"I think there’s a place for all of us," Ruelle said, her tone soft but certain. "And it makes no sense not to help each other when we’re already the minority here. Hopefully, we’ll all get to live better than we do now."

Leslie’s nod was small. She brushed her hair back, the motion unguarded enough to pull her sleeve with it—just far enough for Ruelle to catch the faint mark on her wrist. Yellowing at the edges.

Ruelle also noticed how Leslie, even though she was a rank higher, it meant she had a better grasping ability. Yet, when the subject was explained, her classmate’s mind felt elsewhere.

When Kevin was talking to Hailey about another subject, Ruelle asked her classmate in a quiet tone, "Is everything okay?"

Leslie blinked, too quickly. "What?"

Ruelle’s eyes flicked to Leslie’s wrist. The young woman tugged her sleeve down at once. "It’s nothing. I just... ran into something last week."

"I see," Ruelle murmured. "Be careful."

Her eyes lingered on Leslie’s face, but she didn’t press. She knew that answer. She had given it herself often when the bruises on her arms and shoulders had been fresher than her lies.

When the hour grew late, they packed their books and left the room. Moonlight spilt through the high windows, their steps echoing lightly against the stone floor.

"Good night," Kevin wished as he walked off with Hailey.

"Night," Ruelle replied, walking alongside Leslie. Leslie opened her mouth to say something—but a familiar voice came from the other side of the corridor.

"Burning the midnight oil again, Ruelle."

The voice drifted from the far end—light, teasing, with that hint of knowing that never let one forget who the person was. It was Dane. He was wearing a long coat and gloves, as if he were heading out of Sexton for the night. His smile carried a blend of warmth and mischief.

Ruelle bowed her head politely. "Good evening, Mr. S. Are you still on duty?"

"An instructor at Sexton is never off duty," Dane replied, his tone holding a touch of mock-seriousness. His gaze slid past her to Leslie, who dipped a quick bow before excusing herself to get back to her room. "I was making a little stop at the infirmary."

"Was it to check on the senior vampire...?" Ruelle asked.

His eyes gleamed. "Huxley’s going to live."

"I meant Lucian," she clarified. "Will he get into trouble for what happened today?"

This had Dane’s lips stretch around the corners. He replied,

"Hard to punish a man for defending himself—especially when the other idiot downs a tonic and pulls a dagger to fight like a rabid wolf. They called it self-defence." Dane’s smile deepened, but there was something watchful in his eyes. "Better than his first week here. That one ended with a senior in the grave and an emergency committee meeting because that senior was the earl’s nephew."

A faint unease curled in Ruelle’s chest.

"He knows exactly how far he can go before one becomes a body to clean up." It wasn’t that Dane was praising his brother, but he was calm about it, as if he knew it could happen again. Then, as if flipping a switch, his voice warmed. "By the way—congratulations."

"Congratulations...?"

"You passed the test. We should celebrate."

"Thanks. But it wasn’t exactly an outstanding result," Ruelle replied with an awkward smile, feeling a little self-conscious.

Dane tilted his head, amusement tugging at his mouth. "If you did better than you did yesterday, that’s worth celebrating. Comparing yourself to others only steals the fun out of winning."

"I don’t think everyone thinks that..." Ruelle murmured under her breath.

He hummed in response before his eyes drifted to her ears. "No diamonds?"

She blinked. "What?"

"The earrings," he said, like the answer was obvious. "Gemma mentioned you’re the only one who failed. She wasn’t pleased. Not to mention, people fail later in her subjects, not in the beginning."

"Oh... I just didn’t find the right moment to wear them."

He murmured, "Is that so?"

Ruelle’s fingers brushed her ear. The earrings had been a test. But by leaving them unworn, she couldn’t help but feel Sexton was taking offence at it.

She then left Dane with a polite nod, where his footsteps thinned as she continued to walk. Somewhere behind her, she heard a footstep so soft that for a moment she thought she was imagining it. However, she heard the sound again, as if it were following her.

When she slowed, the sound of the footstep fell into silence. When she turned, the hallway was empty, shadows lying still against the walls. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her satchel. This time, she walked faster until she reached her room. She quickly turned the knob and slipped inside.

That night, she didn’t see Lucian again. She told herself it wasn’t her concern, yet his absence settled in her mind like a pebble in a shoe.

The following evening, the classroom was quieter with just Ruelle and Leslie sitting at the table. Hailey had been feeling hungry and she had left twenty minutes ago with Kevin.

"You’ve caught up quickly," Ruelle scanned the words in Leslie’s notebook. "At this rate, you’ll be bridging the gap to the top of the class in no time."

A smile touched Leslie’s lips. "I didn’t expect this Chapter to be so easy. I understand it better when you teach."

Ruelle began to pack her things, feeling a faint rumble of hunger escaping her stomach.

When they stepped outside the room, Ruelle turned toward the dining hall, and noticed Leslie had taken a step the other way.

"You’re not coming?"

"I... left my other quill in another building. I need to get it," Leslie said, her voice hesitant. Her fingers clutched on her opposite wrist. A quill would be nothing to an Elite, but to someone who owned little, it was worth a lot.

"Now?" Ruelle’s brow rose slightly. Leslie’s unease was faint but evident. Especially with the shallow rise of her breath and the way her eyes darted briefly toward the end of the hall. She had seen Leslie alone more often than not.

"Alright," Ruelle said, shouldering her satchel. "Let us go get it."

"Y–you will?" Leslie blinked in surprise.

"Of course," Ruelle nodded. "Then we can have dinner together."

They left the familiar, well-lit wing behind, crossing the narrow bridge that joined to another building. Below, darkness pooled like water between the stone walls. The torches grew fewer until there were none at all when they entered the next building, leaving the corridor cold.

Leslie moved ahead, her steps quick but cautious, as though she wanted to get somewhere without drawing attention. Every few paces, she glanced over her shoulder as if needing reassurance that Ruelle was still following.

"I don’t think I’ve ever been here before," Ruelle said, her voice carrying in the long, empty hall, footsteps echoing alongside it. "It’s... abandoned."

"That’s right," Leslie replied quickly as her grip tightened around her opposite wrist again, the small motion catching Ruelle’s eye even in the low light.

Ruelle tilted her head. "You don’t look so good." She offered, "If you want we can come back for it in the morning. You can use my quill until then." Her tone was gentle but steady, the kind of offer she meant to keep.

Leslie shook her head without looking back. "No... it’s fine. The q–quill is somewhere right here. It is close."

They turned down a corridor and followed it into a room that was connected to two more connecting rooms. The air felt cooler here, with a faint smell of something Ruelle couldn’t pinpoint. Her eyes moved over the broken furnitures fallen across the floor, the dark stains that marred the wooden floor and the shattered windowpanes. Mould clung to the corners of the walls.

Ruelle’s steps slowed. Something about the place didn’t feel right.

But what caught her attention more was Leslie. The young woman made no attempt to search, her gaze flicking not to the floor or the corners where a quill might have rolled, but toward the doorway ahead. Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers worrying at her sleeve.

It then struck Ruelle. Leslie wasn’t looking for anything. She was... waiting.

"Leslie...?" Ruelle felt her stomach drop.

"I–I am sorry," came the barely audible whisper from Leslie’s trembling lips.

And a second later, the wooden flooring creaked at the door.

"Finally," a pleased voice drawled. "You lowly thing brought her here."

Ruelle turned sharply and found Alanna standing in the doorway, red lips curved in satisfaction, her long coat sweeping the floor. Behind her, three Halflings lingered like shadows—two of the faces Ruelle knew too well, and she could tell they hadn’t forgotten about her either.

"Don’t pretend you weren’t waiting for me to pick up that pendant. People like you always play the naive card—it’s how you stole a seat at the Elite table," Alanna looked at Ruelle as if the Groundling was the dirt on the scrape of her shoe. "What makes you think you can sit where I sit? Where we sit? And stain it with your presence."

Think, Ruelle! If I go into the corridor, they’ll catch me in seconds. If I stay, they’ll tear through the walls, she thought to herself.

Don’t look down.

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