Chapter 162: Fall Of The Youngest

Ruelle’s footsteps slowed when she caught sight of her parents in the corridor. Her feet froze. It had been three weeks since they had last seen each other.

Her father stood slightly crouched and rigid, his grey hair perfectly combed but he didn’t seem to be carrying a cane and he didn’t carry the same arrogance of pride he usually did. He wore a look of disgust, one that had followed Ruelle through every moment of her childhood.

’Why are you so useless?’

’I think you should leave. Leave this house and do not come back.’

Though she had tried not thinking about it, remembering that day still made her heart and bones ache. Her parents stood there looking at her as if she were a stranger.

On the other hand, Mr. Belmont froze at the sight of the pureblooded vampire and his face twisted in hidden fury. What was he doing here? And Ruelle, what was she thinking, standing there beside him?!

“Why are you still here instead of the main hall?” An instructor’s impatient voice came through the corridor as he approached the Belmont couple. “The bidding began forty minutes ago. Follow me. What’s the student’s name?” he questioned as they were led away.

The older couple nodded at the instructor, already turning to follow, but not without glancing over their shoulders with a look of disgust.

Ruelle’s body turned rigid even though she knew she was safe in Sexton. That she wasn’t alone like in the past, but her body only knew the old fears, the old ways of surviving. She felt the corners of her eyes beginning to darken and then—

Cool hands came to rest on her cheeks.

“Breathe, Ruelle,” Lucian’s voice was steady like an anchor in the storm of her unravelling. Her lips parted and air rushed back. “That’s it.”

His words steadied her.

“I thought I wouldn’t be affected by them,” Ruelle confessed, managing a small smile which only faltered. Her fingernails dug into her palms to keep her voice even. “After everything… But I feel an uneasy. I—”

“Emotions doesn’t work the way we want. You spent years learning how to endure your family. That doesn’t disappear because you’ve stepped away,” Lucian responded, his gaze dropped to her hands. “It’s not weakness, Ruelle. It’s a bad memory.”

Without a word, he let go of her face and found her fists. His fingers were gentle but insistent as he uncurled hers, revealing the small crescents her nails had carved into her skin. He said,

“They’ve hurt you before. They won’t again.” He then looked up to see her and asked, “Do you want to sit out of the auction?”

With them standing this close, Lucian could feel everything. Every emotion that crashed through her like waves against cliffs.

Ruelle shook her head and answered, “No. Let us go attend the bid. They are here for Caroline… and they will leave.” For years, she had swallowed the pain like medicine. But she wanted to do better.

“As you wish,” Lucian said, and they headed towards the main hall.

Once they stepped inside the place, Ruelle was first hit by the sheer number of people. There were groundlings’ parents clustered at the back and some pressed at the walls.

Lucian led her towards the front where the Elites were seated. There were two empty seats next to Sawyer and Blake.

Just when Ruelle was about to sit, she risked a glance and caught her parents staring at her. But then she realised they weren’t watching her, but Lucian. The look on their faces was clear, as if demanding what she was doing with him.

Ignore it, Ruelle’s mind whispered and she sat down next to Lucian.

“Glad to see both of you sitting together, and that you aren’t with the prince, Ruelle,” Sawyer remarked as he leaned forward to meet Ruelle’s eyes. “Lucian was going to light up the entire place. Hell, we almost got lit up like early Christmas.”

Lucian turned his gaze on his cousin with a quiet warning in his eyes.

“What? It’s true,” Sawyer said with a hint of amusement in his voice as he glanced toward Blake. “Isn’t it?”

“I’d like to leave without trouble,” Blake said with a quiet sigh.

Lucian’s gaze shifted to Blake. “You’re still leaving?”

Blake had decided she would leave once their year in Sexton ended and take a position under the queen who lived in the East Land. She doubted her mother would ever change her mind, and there was little point in staying where she was constantly being pushed.

She smiled at Lucian’s question before replying,

“I thought a change of place might do me some good. It isn’t too far. I’ll return when the time feels right.”

While the vampires continued their quiet conversations, and the next groundling had yet to be brought to the dais, Ezekiel sat not far from Ruelle, his gaze fixed on her.

Yesterday, when he had learned that Ruelle had left Sexton with the prince, he had followed the carriage, only to realise it carried someone else. Where had they gone? What had they done? The questions had not left him since.

“You missed a rather interesting bid ten minutes ago. You should have been here for it, Ruelle,” Sawyer said, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“What happened?” Ruelle asked before adding, “About Kevin and Hailey. Did their bidding get over?”

Sawyer nodded, replying, “Indeed. Both of them were bought by King Septimus.”

King Septimus? Ruelle’s gaze moved across the room, but the king was nowhere to be seen. Why? He wasn’t planning another trick, was he? He did seem to enjoy keeping people on edge…

“They went for a rather low price, while others were bid in the thousands. One would think none of us pay taxes,” Sawyer added with a nonchalant attitude.

Ruelle turned to Lucian and asked in a whisper, “Hailey will live, right?” When a servant brought a tray of glasses with blood and juice, she picked up a glass and quickly drank from it.

“His idea of jest tends to be extreme, but he won’t harm her. Unless she doesn’t follow his words,” Lucian added.

Ruelle could only imagine how badly Hailey must be panicking. Parallelly, Mr. Mortis made his way back to the dais. She heard Lucian,

“Ruelle.”

“Yes?”

Lucian heard the word escape her lips soft as snowfall, accompanied by a slow blink with those brown eyes wide and questioning.

Ruelle noticed him sitting casually with one elbow resting on his crossed legs, the edge of his hand supporting his head. A slight frown marred his perfect features.

“Why are you sitting so far?” The question was almost rhetorical. The chairs were carefully placed apart, just enough for everyone to sit comfortably.

Before she could say something, his hand moved and the next moment he grabbed the bottom of her chair and pulled towards him, bringing her close to him.

“Much better,” Lucian murmured, looking satisfied.

Ruelle’s cheeks flushed pink and she could feel eyes on them, who’d turned to look at them from the sound of the wood being dragged. But Lucian seemed utterly unconcerned by their attention.

“Our next groundling,” Mr. Mortis’s voice echoed through the hall, pulling everyone’s attention back to the front. “Caroline Henley. Below-par intellect, below-par fighting skills. Blue blood gradient quality of blood.”

Ruelle watched her sister standing at the centre of the dais with her chin lifted up. She realised how Mr. Mortis had omitted the part where her sister was married.

The hall stirred with interest at the mention of the blood, as it was something worth owning. And while everyone’s attention was pulled to the front, two people’s eyes remained fixed on Ruelle— Mr. Belmont and Ezekiel Henley.

Mr. Belmont stared at his eldest daughter who was sitting with the man who had turned them homeless. He wore a deep scowl while ignoring Caroline who stood on the dais. And when the pureblooded vampire’s hand moved to his daughter’s glass, taking it from her and drinking it entirely, his eyes widened.

“Let us start bidding now,” Mr. Mortis stated with a stoic expression on his face. For a brief moment, the room went silent, but Caroline didn’t seem fazed as she remembered Ezekiel’s words.

’Don’t panic if I don’t bid first. We need to build the momentum, okay? And make sure no one goes higher than me.’

“Five hundred gold coins,” someone called out in the room as they started the bid.

“One thousand five hundred,” another person jumped, who was a sleazy minister.

“One thousand six hundred,” Ezekiel called, and a smile formed on Caroline’s lips, as if her faith had been restored.

When Ruelle heard Ezekiel’s voice, she wondered if he had really managed to gather that much money. Good for her sister, she thought.

“Two thousand gold coins.” The number jumped.

From what Ruelle had heard, Sexton placed a higher value on female groundlings than on the males. Not even five minutes passed before another voice called, “Four thousand.”

And Ezekiel, who had raised the number twice in those five minutes with the confidence as if he were at par with the other high-standing people here, he soon went quiet.

Ruelle watched from her seat as Caroline’s composed features began to falter under pressure.

Caroline looked at her husband, not knowing why he wasn’t bidding further. And when she continued to stare, Ezekiel shook his head.

It was a small gesture, but Caroline caught it and the look on her face turned to dread. Mrs. Belmont sat rigid in her seat, her head turning back and forth between her daughter and son-in-law.

“Five thousand,” a man called loud and clear.

Ruelle didn’t need to see the bidder to know what kind of person he was. She could hear it just by his tone as if he were someone who took pleasure in watching things break.

“Six thousand,” and upon noticing the sleazy man, Caroline’s face drained of colour.

Ruelle noticed Caroline’s hands tremble and her eyes beginning to fill with tears. Her lips pursed. It made her uncomfortable watching this.

It also made her realise how lucky she was. If not for Lucian, she would have been standing there too, with a price on her.

“Six thousand gold coins,” Mr. Mortis called out loud and clear. “Going once. Going twice. Going thrice—Sold to Mr. Hildegarde Eustace.”

Caroline dropped on her knees, as tears began to fall on her face in desperation. She whispered, “No…no, this was not supposed to happen…”

“You don’t need to change her clothes or remove the make up. I like it as it is,” Mr. Eustace laughed, who was a man in his fifties with a thick mustache sitting on top of his lip. “I will be waiting in my carriage…Bring that thing there.”

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