Though the sky still held light, lanterns had already been lit around the grounds of Sexton, their glow stretching across the paths. It was six in the evening. The leaves from a nearby tree rustled before falling on the ground from the wind.

Right now, Ruelle waited for Edward, as he had told her that they would meet at this hour near the maze. But so far there was no sign of him.

She murmured, “Sexton seems quieter at this hour than usual. I should probably return.” She didn’t want to run into a bored vampire who would want to snack on her.

But at the same time a thumping sound answered her. It came from deeper within the trees—heavy, uneven, closing fast. Before she could take another step, something silver-black barrelled into her.

“Oomph!” She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her chest. For a moment, all she saw was lantern light spinning above her and then something wet brushed her cheek.

“Zhenya?” The wolf whined, tail wagging wildly as he licked her face. She laughed before saying, “You’re going to crush me at this rate.”

Zhenya shifted, just enough for her to breathe again. Sitting up, she scratched behind his ears. The wolf leaned into her touch as it closed its eyes. Curious, she asked softly, “What are you doing here?”

When she heard the crunching of leaves from someone’s footsteps, without looking up, she said, “Don’t be scared of him. He’s harmless.”

“I know. I raised him,” came the cool reply.

Ruelle turned and caught Lucian standing not too far from where she was. The lantern light caught his sharp silhouette. She watched him walk towards them, holding a bag in his hand. She asked curiously,

“What’s in the bag?”

“Carrots.”

Eh? Ruelle blinked twice before asking, “Are you going to feed the rabbits with it…?”

“No. They are for the one sitting next to you,” Lucian looked at the wolf, and Ruelle’s frown deepened.

Were wolves vegetarians? She asked herself in doubt. She watched the wolf in quiet amazement.

There was an obvious hint of amusement in his eyes even though he didn’t comment further. He opened the bag and pulled a red carrot. He broke it in half and tossed it without looking at the wolf, who was quick to jump and catch it in its mouth.

She then heard him ask, “Do you want to feed him?”

“I can?” she asked, surprised.

“Sure,” Lucian handed the entire bag to Ruelle.

She broke it into small pieces, as if trying to be mindful and handed it to the wolf, who was more than happy to continue to eat it. She looked amazed and asked,

“How does he like it? I mean—I thought wolves usually go for the meat,” while she took a comfortable seat on the ground.

“Blame the actual owner for feeding him carrots,” Lucian murmured with a shake of his head. “I was shocked too. Ironically, he loves them,” he murmured.

Lucian continued to watch her brushing her fingers through the wolf’s fur every once in a while, before she idly asked,

“Who are you taking to the Winter’s Dance?”

“No one.”

Maybe it was too soon, Ruelle thought before asking, “What about last year?”

“No one,” he answered again.

“Oh…” she said softly. Zhenya’s tail thumped once against the ground as if excited about something. “Why not?”

When Lucian’s eyes sharpened, she felt the weight of his scrutiny settle on her. He tilted his head and asked,

“Why? Is that something you’re considering?”

Ruelle held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then looked away. She replied,

“The prince asked me to dance with him…”

Ruelle hadn’t grown up being chosen. She had learned early not to linger on that thought, to push it aside whenever it surfaced. Caroline had always drawn affection without asking, while Ruelle had been content with what she got. At least one of them did not have to wonder what it felt like.

So when the prince chose her as his dance partner, she did not reject the idea.

Ruelle turned to look behind them and noticed there was no sign of Edward. She muttered disappointedly,

“He should have told me if he wasn’t going to make it…”

Lucian heard the disappointment in her voice. He could have told her why Edward wasn’t coming, but he chose not to. He had meant to keep his distance, but some actions slipped past intention before reason could catch them.

Far from the maze, inside one of Sexton’s inner buildings, Edward sat in his room before several books with his eyes wide. Hermes stood near the desk, eyes fixed far too intently on the book in his hands.

“My stay in Sexton was supposed to be out of courtesy. But why do I feel like I have been tricked by you and father, hm?” Edward complained, feeling betrayed. “Explain to me how it became this.”

Hermes swallowed, before replying, “Y–Your Highness, I was not present there—”

“You. Don’t. Know?” Edward gestured toward the scattered parchments on the desk. “An assignment. Due tomorrow. As if I am any other student.”

Hermes hesitated before answering carefully, “Edmond Mortis said the assignment came from a suggestion. I think it is because you had men come here and start digging to construct separate quarters for Miss Belmont. Why else would there be an assignment on managing funds?”

“You should have instructed the men to be quieter when it came to digging then,” Edward clicked his tongue, while Hermes wondered how that was even possible to do it.

Edward then ground his teeth.

“Which person was deranged enough to bury everyone in assignment?!” He asked with a bewildered expression.

Back near the maze, Ruelle continued to be seated on the ground with Zhenya’s head on her lap. She didn’t know how long she sat in that position until a dull ache crept into her legs.

“You should head back. The weather is picking up,” Lucian stated, his voice calm. Then, more firmly, “Zhenya. Up.”

The wolf obeyed at once, lifting his head and moving away. The sudden absence of weight made the numbness in Ruelle’s legs sharpen and she quickly drew her knees in and pushed herself upright.

For a brief second, her gaze flicked to Lucian, as if checking whether he had noticed her feet go numb. Before she could steady herself, her ankle twisted and her world tilted.

But before she could hit the ground, Lucian’s hand caught the back of her scarf before she could fall fully.

“You can let me go now,” Ruelle said quickly, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

Lucian released the scarf at once.

Ruelle dropped softly on the ground. She winced as her palms met the ground.

…that wasn’t what she meant, she thought loudly. Sometimes she wondered if Lucian took words exactly as they were given—nothing more, nothing less. She pushed herself up and brushed her hands against her skirt.

“Zhenya?” Ruelle noticed the wolf disappearing into the forest.

“We should leave too,” Lucian’s words were firm.

At the same time, a drop of water landed on Ruelle’s arm. She glanced up and another followed. Suddenly rain began to pour.

Lantern light blurred with the sound of water tapping against the ground. Together they left the maze at once, Ruelle hurrying behind Lucian, the path slick beneath her boots. By the time they reached the room, both were damp with rainwater clinging to their clothes.

“Go change first,” Lucian said briskly, nudging her forward as if it were urgent.

Was he worried she would fall sick and he would have to hear her cough and sneeze through the night? Ruelle asked herself.

Without another word, Ruelle gathered her clothes and slipped behind the wooden divider to change, her hair still damp and clinging to her neck.

When she stepped out, she caught sight of Lucian crouching before the fireplace. The rain had darkened his hair further, droplets clinging to the ends before slipping free, where some trailed slowly down his neck before vanishing beneath his collar.

It struck her that he could have easily walked ahead and left her behind to avoid being drenched. Instead, he had accompanied her.

Water had begun to pool on the stone floor, most of it falling where Lucian knelt, moving towards the firewood.

Without a second thought, Ruelle’s hand reached for a towel. She crossed the room and held it out to him. “Here.”

“I’ll deal with it later,” Lucian replied, still focused on getting the fireplace ready to be lit.

“Back home, Caroline never dried her hair either. She’d swear she was fine and then catch a cold every time,” Ruelle remembered it fondly. “Let me do it.”

She lowered herself beside him and draped the towel over his head, blotting the damp from his hair with the same practised hand she had used hundreds of times before on her sister.

Ruelle continued to talk, “It is very easy to fall sick if you don’t dry your hair from the rain—”

Lucian caught her wrist.

His fingers closed around her wrist and drew it down, with the towel that followed to reveal his face. When she looked up, his eyes were dark and intent, narrowed in a way that made her heart stumble. The space between them vanished, close enough that she noticed the damp strands of his hair clinging to his temple and the faint heat of him beneath the chill.

“Belmont,” Lucian said lowly, his jaw tightening as if the words cost him something. “Do I look like your sister?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep