Edward’s hand remained extended where Ruelle’s had been and his gaze briefly caught the flush in her cheeks. His expression faltered for a second, like a puppy with drooping ears. Then it snapped back and he glared at Lucian.

"How annoying," the young prince muttered. He huffed, trying to keep face, "At least I was the one she chose to spend the day with. I was the one who took her to the theatre for the first time."

Chosen? Edward had dragged her into it because of the deal. She started, "That’s a little—"

At the same time, Lucian’s arm tightened around her waist and her words caught in her throat.

"First," Lucian repeated, his gaze on Edward. His thumb shifted slightly against her waist. "I’ll make the rest mine."

Edward’s jaw tightened in irritation before he harrumphed, "I’m still first," and he stepped out of the room.

Ruelle watched Hermes follow Edward out, the prince not once looking back. She hoped he would be alright. That he would meet someone who could return his affections.

’The man you will end up with is a prince.’

For the past three days, those words had not left her.

She had thought about it over and over again. Because if it was Edward... then Lucian and she weren’t meant to be. Only to realise she had been wrong.

It had been Lucian all along.

Outside the corridor, Edward walked with hurried footsteps so that he could find a corner and mope alone. But his attendant walked right behind him, and this had the prince stop and turn, glaring at his attendant. He snapped,

"Why are you following me? I am fine. You should stay with my father as you seem more loyal to him than me when you are my attendant. You didn’t even tell me about the Slaters."

Hermes could tell the young prince was hurt and he offered a bow. He replied,

"Pardon me, Your Highness. When you the prince weren’t aware, how would I?"

"I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t living in the castle in the beginning. But you—well whatever. Don’t follow me," Edward said, but he didn’t make an attempt to go too far as he sat down at one of the benches.

And Hermes quietly followed, noticing the prince go quiet as he stared at the forest ahead of them. The attendant didn’t utter a word and only offered his quiet company.

"I am still upset with you," Edward muttered, and he then glanced at Hermes shoes, "Does it still hurt?"

"No, Your Highness," Hermes replied, looking up at the prince.

"I expect you to come to me, unless you feel I am not competent enough to solve problems." Edward looked back at the front.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Then the bell rang, leaving an echo behind.

Back in the room, King Septimus rose from his seat.

"Well," he murmured, his lips carrying a faint smile and he hummed, "Quite a night, wasn’t it? I believe I shall retire for the night. There is a bid to look forward to, after all. I would hate to miss it."

Lucian’s hold loosened at last, and she noticed the king stop near them. The king questioned,

"What would you have done...if I had burned the parchment? After all... when there is more than one interest, the value tends to rise," he chuckled lightly, before turning to look at Ruelle. "It would seem you are family now. Enjoy your freedom from Sexton."

Ruelle bowed her head, her gaze lowered just enough to catch the king’s shoes leaving as he turned away. The guards followed after him and left the room.

Soon, Lucian and she left as well.

The corridors had grown colder with the night. Silence settled in, broken only by the sound of their footsteps. The lanterns along the walls burned dimly, some wicks burning and ready to die.

Ruelle walked two steps behind Lucian.

It wasn’t that she had meant to fall back. It had just... happened. Lucian’s stride was longer, his steps carrying him forward without pause and he didn’t slow down. He walked ahead, his back to her, his steps steady as though she weren’t there.

Was he...angry? The thought came hesitantly.

Her gaze lingered on his back. She pressed her lips together, her teeth catching against the inside as she gnawed lightly. Her lips parted,

"..." but the words didn’t come as she saw the distance grow between them while Lucian hadn’t spoken a word.

Was it something to do with King Septimus’ words before he left? What was this treaty they spoke about? Ruelle followed a moment later and stepped inside the room to be greeted by darkness.

With neither of them returning since morning, the air inside was still with lack of light and the only light came from the corridor. She finally decided to ask him,

"What was King Septimus talking about... the treaty?" She took another step into the room, and said, "About it being Edward—"

The door slammed shut behind her with a sharp thud and the next thing she knew, her back hit the door, the impact stealing the breath from her lungs. A soft gasp escaped her which never fully formed as it was swallowed the moment Lucian’s lips crashed into hers.

Startled, her hands came up instinctively, pressing against his chest. But his hand moved faster than her thoughts. One moment her wrists were free, the next second both delicate bones were trapped in the iron grip of his single hand. He pressed them against the door above her head, pinning her.

There was nothing gentle in the way he kissed her. His lips moved against hers with a fervour as if he had been drowning for centuries and she was his first taste of air. As if he’d been starving for her.

His free hand came to her jaw, tracing the delicate curve before his thumb paused beneath her ear, feeling her pulse flutter like a bird’s wings.

When Lucian finally pulled away, she felt the faint brush of his finger against her lips that made her tremble. With her sight stolen and the darkness pressing in, it made every other sense sharper.

"Part your lips for me, Ruelle," Lucian’s voice was low, holding a quiet rasp of sweetness that brushed her skin.

And as if under his spell, she parted her lips.

Lucian didn’t waste a second as his lips returned to devour her. He kissed her like he intended to consume her to her very bone. His tongue swept past her lips, claiming the warm cavern of her mouth and he tasted like smoke and dark promises.

Her body arched as he tilted her face up, angling it to him.

His teeth caught her bottom lip not so gently and a sound escaped from her throat which was something between surrender and plea. He soothed her lip with his tongue, only for him to bite again, harder and drawing a drop of blood from her.

When his lips left hers, moving down to trail her neck, she felt his breath against her collarbones with his other hand wrapped around her waist. He let go of her hands, and her chest heaved with each laboured breath.

"I...I thought you were angry," Ruelle tried to catch her breath and noticed how the fireplace lit up.

"I am," Lucian replied. And he turned his head to catch her swollen lips and wide eyes. "It’s like a stray cat wandering where it shouldn’t... I’ll have to put a collar on it."

"What?" Ruelle whispered, her eyes adjusting to the light and noticing his darkened eyes.

Ruelle didn’t know if she was supposed to be worried or not. Lucian questioned quietly,

"You’re sure of what you said back there." When she understood what he was asking about, she nodded.

’My heart lies elsewhere.’

"Then say it again. Properly," he hummed.

Earlier in the room where they had been summoned, Ruelle hadn’t cared. There had been too much happening and the words had come easily then. But this wasn’t the same. Her lips parted, and she said softly,

"My heart...it lies with you, Lucian," and her heart skipped a beat.

For a moment, Lucian didn’t say anything as if he had been waiting to hear it longer than she could count. He murmured, "And mine with you."

Leaning forward, he planted a kiss on her neck and a silent sigh escaped her lips at the touch of his cool lips. His lips trailed towards the bridge of her shoulder and neck, and she heard him say,

"This is going to hurt."

The words registered a heartbeat too late with Ruelle and Lucian’s fangs pierced her skin and she winced.

Her hands flew up instinctively, fingers finding the front of his shirt and gripping it. The fine fabric crumpled in her fists as she held on and the pain was immediate and intense, like liquid fire running through her veins.

When he finally pulled away, his fangs retracted back and he licked the blood off the mark he had left on her. He pressed a tender kiss on it and murmured, "You belong to me now, Ruelle, and I to you."