Chapter 112: The Edge of Control

When the song came to an end, Edward was quick to usher Ruelle out of the grand hall as if keeping her away from Lucian, leading her toward the lake.

“Did that song play longer than the others?” Edward muttered with a faint frown.

But Ruelle hadn’t paid attention to it, not even realising she had given her last dance to Lucian. The thought came to her too late that this might have been one of the last times she would ever stand that close to him.

Once she moved out of his room, there would be no reason for them to speak. No shared space. No quiet crossings of paths.

Why didn’t she tell him then? She wondered, a soft sigh leaving her.

When they reached the lake behind Sexton, a narrow wooden boat waited by the shore. A lantern swayed gently from its pole, casting gold ripples across the dark water.

“Hermes,” Edward called lightly, “the food is still warm, I hope? We wouldn’t want Ruelle thinking I lack planning skills.”

Hermes, who stood near the tied boat, bowed. “Everything is prepared, Your Highness.”

When the wind from the water slipped easily through the thin fabric of Ruelle’s sleeves, she shivered.

“Looks like you’re feeling cold, aren’t you?” Edward said, already shrugging off his coat. “Here, you can use this,” and he draped it over her shoulders before she could protest, his smile almost boyish.

Ruelle hesitated only for a moment before pulling the coat closer. Refusing would have been foolish, and the night air was biting harder by every passing second.

Edward looked pleased that Ruelle needed him, and he felt nothing less than a knight in shining armour.

After five minutes, Edward and Ruelle were sitting inside the boat on opposite ends, away from the shore and under the vast sky. She could hear the distant sound of crickets and the soft splashes of the water.

“Have you gone boating before, Ruelle? We can do it together, and I will catch you a big fish,” Edward promised her, which made Ruelle smile. “Also, you are the first woman I ever took out like this. This is special,” he let her know.

“I will look forward to it, provided I am not your mistress,” Ruelle added, making Edward laugh.

The lake was quiet and peaceful, in contrast to the grand hall, which was filled with music and chatter. Ruelle turned to the side, her gaze looking at the wavering water. But the prince’s eyes were on her as he stared at her.

When Ruelle glanced back at Edward, he cleared his throat and rose from his seat as if adjusting his posture. She advised him,

“You should be careful. Boats like these can wobble.”

Edward waved his hand, already stepping toward the edge. “This one won’t. I paid double so it wouldn’t dare sink or break. It is sturdy.” His shoe nudged the rim of the boat as if testing a loyal servant. “Ruelle, I meant to ask you something.”

“What is it?” she asked, while watching him.

“I’ll be visiting the castle within a week or two,” he began, bending slightly to look at the surface of the water Ruelle was looking at earlier. “And I was thinking I would like for—”

A guttural snarl ripped through the darkness. It came from the tall grasses near the shore, which was low, wild, and far too close. Edward jerked upright from being startled and in the process, his foot slipped on the wooden paddle. The boat rocked sharply under the sudden shift of weight.

Splash!

Water swallowed the rest of Edward’s sentence as he fell right into the cold water. Ruelle’s eyes widened, and she exclaimed, “Edward…?!”

Edward resurfaced from the water, his eyes looking obviously annoyed.

He turned to look in the other direction, muttering, “Don’t look at me. Never have I been this embarrassed…”

Ruelle would have said that she warned him, but maybe it was too soon. Instead, she replied, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about when it comes to friends. Let us blame the paddle…”

Far away behind the tall grass, Zhenya huffed before turning and thumping out of there.

“Your Highness!” Hermes shouted from where he stood, wearing a troubled look.

Soon Ruelle and Edward returned to the shore, with water dripping from the prince’s head and clothes. “We should have you changed right away,” the attendant spoke, before turning to Ruelle.

“I think I would like to retire for the night. Dancing seemed to have pulled out my energy for the day,” Ruelle informed them softly.

“I apologise that the night had to be cut short so abruptly,” Edward sighed and Ruelle shook her head.

“That’s fine. Regardless, I had a lovely time. Thank you for arranging it.” Ruelle bowed before making her way to the room. She didn’t feel like going back to the ball, especially when she was worried about running into the minister she had avoided, she thought to herself.

Back in the grand hall, the music and chatter rolled on beneath the chandeliers. Lucian had just finished speaking with a minister when Blake stepped to his side.

“Minister Gaile looks thoroughly drained tonight,” Blake observed. Standing next to Lucian, she could see the women glancing at him every now and then.

“He creates his own burdens,” Lucian stated, almost absently. “And seems reluctant to part with them.”

One corner of Blake’s lips tugged at his words. Her attention shifted to the dance floor, landing on Sawyer, who was currently surrounded by female admirers near the edge of the dance floor and asking him to dance with them.

“How many invitations did you receive this evening?” Blake asked, already aware several women had gathered the courage to approach him, only to leave as he looked at them as if they didn’t exist.

“I don’t remember,” Lucian replied. His gaze drifted past the crowd, settling briefly on the grand hall’s exit. The same doors Ruelle had disappeared through earlier.

Not far from Lucian, Alanna stood with a glass of wine in hand she had long forgotten to drink. Her eyes never left him as he spoke with Blake Stellaris.

When her gaze shifted, she caught sight of the servant.

He glanced toward her, nervous, and subtly brushed his fingers against one of the glasses at the back of the tray. Seeing the drink was ready, she gave him the slightest nod. The servant started to walk carefully through the crowd, the tray balanced in trembling hands. Step by step, he drew closer to Lucian.

Just as the servant reached the spot—

“Miss Beckett?” Mr. Mortis’s attendant suddenly blocked her view and her lips curled in an instant sneer. “Minister Griswold requests your presence in the west wing.”

“Step away,” Alanna tried to shoo him. She leaned to the side and caught Lucian holding a glass. But Blake was too and her lips pursed. Did he pick the one that was intended for him? Her eyes darted across the crowd for the servant, but he had already disappeared into the sea of guests.

“Miss Beckett,” the attendant called again.

Alanna shot him a glare. She snapped, “I don’t know this minister. Tell him I’ll meet him later and that I am busy today.”

“I’m afraid it must be now,” the attendant replied smoothly. “Minister Griswold has expressed interest in assisting your family.”

His words made her look at him. Her expression shifted from irritation to calculation. Why was a minister approaching her and not her father?

She looked back toward Lucian once more and noticed he was still speaking, his glass untouched.

“Shall we go?” asked the attendant, and her jaw tightened.

“Fine,” the vampiress agreed at last, the word clipped. She handed her untouched drink to a servant without looking. “This had better be quick.”

The potion would take time to take effect, she said to herself. She would return before anything was missed and with that thought, she followed the attendant with quick footsteps.

On the other side of the grand hall, Blake watched Alanna glance at Lucian, and she sighed at the irremediable woman, who had been vying for her friend’s attention since the beginning of joining Sexton.

“Well now, Blakey,” came a smooth voice at her side, “what are you doing hiding over here instead of dazzling the dance floor?” Dane appeared beside her as if he’d always been there, hands tucked lazily into his pockets.

“The floor was getting crowded and I wanted some space. It is better to be just a viewer from this side.”

“My, is my brother rubbing off on you?” Dane joked. He then snapped his hand to one of the servants and when the servant came with a tray of drinks, he picked up a glass. “Let us toast,” and the two of them raised their glasses.

“To the better views,” Dane smiled, and Lucian gave him a quiet look before the three of them took a sip from their glasses.

“Don’t you have trouble to get into?” Lucian asked, taking the last sip from his glass.

Dane sighed. “Unfortunately, there has been no willing participant. I don’t know why they get scared. Especially after all, I do nurse them back.”

“Mr. S!” One of the first-year humans arrived before them. “One of the ministers said the room in the new quarters has a leaky tap and has caused a commotion.”

“Is he taking a shower to be worried about it?” Dane asked before placing his empty glass down. He then said to the young man, placing his arm over the person’s shoulders, and joked, “Why don’t you get a gunny bag and I will get the rod.”

Seeing Dane leave, Blake remembered something and she said,

“I heard Mortis has begun assigning rooms to the humans.” The vampiress’s voice was neutral. Then, she continued carefully, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Ruelle will be moving to the new quarters.”

Lucian’s gaze, which had been drifting over the ballroom without interest, turned to her.

“Where did you hear that?”

“When she came by the room earlier,” Blake answered.

His fingers tightened once around the stem of the glass in his hand, not enough to break it, but enough that a thin crack appeared through the crystal.

When Blake left him alone, Lucian didn’t move. For a moment, the noise in the ballroom turned distant.

A quiet breath left his lips. Not out of frustration or surprise but something darker. The faint shadows beneath his eyes deepened, as though the light around him had subtly withdrawn after what he had sipped a few minutes ago.

A slow heat built in his chest, slow and deliberate, coiling beneath his ribs as though something long restrained had just drawn its first breath. His pulse followed, heavy and insistent.

Lucian felt a pressure behind his eyes and other senses. His jaw clenched as he realised something had been mixed in his drink. The sound of the ballroom grew louder than before, each sound scraping against his nerves like sparks against dry tinder.

He quickly left the glass behind before moving out of the grand hall, his breathing growing heavy.

And as he walked, he picked up the layered scents of wine and blood mixed in the night air. But something else slipped in, something faint but almost achingly familiar.

Lucian looked at the path as if the cold air held a thread through the scent. It wasn’t perfume but something softer and warmer. One that belonged to her.

His thoughts started to fracture, slipping through his grip like smoke.

Away from Lucian, on the inner side of the building, Alanna was led right outside a closed chamber by the attendant, who stepped aside and bowed. But the moment she crossed the threshold and took four steps inside, she paused.

The room was surrounded in darkness. No candles had been lit and the fireplace was cold. Her eyebrows furrowed and she questioned in annoyance if the attendant had brought her to the wrong room.

She turned, ready to step back into the corridor and demand clarification but before she could reach the doorway, a hand seized her bottom and gave it a squeeze.

“I knew you would be soft,” a man’s voice murmured near her ear, thick with anticipation.

Alanna froze only for a fraction of a second. Then she spun around and struck the man across his face with such force that the sound cracked through the dark chamber like a whip.

Minister Griswold staggered back with a cry and demanded, “How dare you strike me?!”

“How dare you touch me!” Alanna snapped, her voice trembling with fury. Her face was bright red as she stepped back into the corridor. Minister Griswold followed right after her, holding his cheek.

The attendant, who was startled at the sound of a slap, looked back and forth between the two.

“Who is this woman?” Minister Griswold demanded.

“This is Miss Beckett, Sire…” the attendant answered nervously.

“No, she is not,” the minister retorted, looking at Alanna with irritation rather than shame. “I was expecting someone else.”

“I ought to report both of you for this disgrace!” Alanna’s eyes flashed. But as the words left her mouth, another thought struck harder than her anger.

Lucian.

“This is not finished,” Alanna threatened, before hurrying out of there.

But by the time she returned to the grand hall, Lucian was nowhere to be seen and she gritted her teeth. Where did he go?!

Two buildings away from where the grand hall was located, Ruelle had returned to her room. She had neatly folded Edward’s grey coat and placed it on the couch so that she could return it to him tomorrow.

Then she turned to her desk.

One by one, she began clearing the surface by stacking books and gathering loose ribbons, tucking small belongings into her trunk at the foot of the bed. And while she did it, her half-emptied cupboard doors remained open behind her.

When Ruelle heard the door click shut, she thought she hadn’t latched it properly. But when she turned, she caught Lucian standing there.

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“You’re back early. I’ll move the trunk in a moment,” she let him know. At the same time, she noticed his gaze move past her. To the open cupboard. “I just—”

Her words faded before they made it to her lips. His eyes were darker than before with something else she couldn’t name. As if something lived behind them that had stepped closer to the surface: watching, wanting.

Her heart stumbled. She wondered if she should have perhaps left the packing for tomorrow…

When Lucian started walking towards her, she took a step back and soon the back of her knees hit the bed, making her stumble and fall onto the mattress.

Lucian reached where she was a second later and when he moved closer, warmth crept under her skin and her heart thudded under his gaze.

Ruelle gave the space by moving back but Lucian followed her like a moth to a flame until her hair spread across the bedsheet. His one hand came down on the mattress beside her head and then came the other, caging her in without touching her.

Was the corruption affecting him? Because the Lucian she knew preferred her at an arm’s distance. But right now, his eyes still carried the traces of red in them and hadn’t turned pitch black. Was he possessed?! She blinked at him.

“Lucian…?” she called. “Is something wrong?” she whispered in concern.

His eyes burned down at her, the focus so intense it made heat bloom beneath her skin. When she parted her lips to speak again, his finger pressed gently against them.

“Shh…”

The sound was soft but it travelled through her like a spark sliding down her chest and pulling her breath away. Her gaze wavered at the touch of his finger, which left her between confusion and the dizzying awareness of him.

Trying to steady herself, she turned her face slightly aside. Should she go and call Dane? She thought to herself. While not realising that by turning her face, she had only bared the long line of her neck to his gaze.

“Planning to run away again?” Lucian’s breath brushed against her neck as his finger moved away from her lips. His mouth hovered just above her skin, as if he was holding himself on the edge of something.

Ruelle felt an involuntary flutter-like shiver run down her spine.

Where was she running? She asked herself wide-eyed. Wait, was this about the moving?

“Lucian—Mr. Mortis told me I would be moving—”

Before another word could be uttered, Lucian’s teeth sank into Ruelle’s skin, the sharpness stealing her breath. He pulled back slightly, his voice hoarse, “Don’t… otherwise, I don’t know what I’m capable of doing.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep