Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 18: Wedding at the church

Finally, the wedding day arrived, and the air inside the Belmont house buzzed with anticipation. Ruelle, her hands steady despite the quiet strain she felt in her chest, carefully fastened the last button on Caroline's wedding gown. The fabric was soft under her fingers.

Caroline stood before the mirror, her reflection glowing purely from excitement and the gown she wore. But beneath the poised exterior, she was fidgeting, her hands constantly reaching for her veil as if adjusting it.

"Is the veil sitting properly?" Caroline fretted, her fingers tracing the fabric cascading over her shoulders, which wasn't as sheer as she had wanted. "I feel like it's too far back," she said, followed by a slight cough. It seemed she had caught a little cold.

Ruelle, who had spent the entire morning attending to every minute detail of her sister's appearance, smiled softly. She had become accustomed to Caroline's perfectionism, the need for every detail to be flawless. Yet, in her sister's fussing, there was something familiar and endearing, something that made her feel needed. She reassured her with a gentle tone,

"It's exactly where it's supposed to be. Once the veil comes down, you'll see. It's perfect, Caroline. Just like everything else."

"I hope so," Caroline murmured. She stood a little straighter and let out a breath. "I've been counting down the days and hours. And now... soon I'll be married! Can you believe it?" Her voice suddenly brightened with excitement, a rush of joy replacing her earlier tension.

"I can," Ruelle replied, her smile widening as she knelt down to adjust the hem of Caroline's gown one last time, smoothing out invisible creases. "In less than an hour, you'll be standing at the altar, and everything will be exactly as you dreamed."

As Ruelle rose to her feet, Caroline turned to her, placing a soft hand over Ruelle's. Her younger sister said, "Thank you for being here today, Ruelle. You're the best sister. I'll miss you so much, but I promise, I'll visit Papa, Mama, and you on weekends."

Ruelle forced a smile, though her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the words she could never say. She replied quietly, "Of course."

Her gaze drifted to the mirror again, but this time it wasn't Caroline's reflection she saw—it was the memory of Ezekiel's arms around her, having mistaken her for Caroline. The guilt pressed down on her, heavy because in their world—where propriety meant everything—what had happened was wrong, even if unintended.

That fleeting, mistaken embrace felt like an invisible mark that no one else knew about—but she did. In a society where a woman's reputation could be ruined by a mere misunderstanding, the weight of what had happened gnawed at her conscience.

It was a mistake, a terrible one, she reminded herself, and pushed the thought away.

you," Caroline's voice broke through Ruelle's thoughts. Yet, as her younger sister spoke, her gaze wandered, not meeting Ruelle's

sensing Caroline's

giving it to her. I thought... since you're at Sexton and you're not really looking to marry right now, I told her I will hand it to her..." Her voice

it made sense, and yet... hadn't she, too, dreamed of marriage? A tiny flicker of hope had lived within her, that it might happen one day, even though her prospects were slim.

herself to laugh, though it sounded thin even to

terrible had happened. You worried me for nothing," she said in a light voice, as though the decision

eyes gleamed with tears of pride as they fell upon Caroline, standing in her bridal gown. "Oh, Caroline," she whispered, her voice thick with

fine job, Ruelle," she said with a brief, approving nod. "Now, it's time to leave for the

bubbling over again as she gathered her skirts and followed her mother

paused at the doorway, her gaze briefly flicking over Ruelle's attire. "You haven't gotten ready yet. We'll be going ahead. Don't

the two women disappear down the hallway,

with the chaos of wedding preparations, was now eerily quiet. Ruelle turned towards the mirror, her own reflection staring back at her, pale

noticed the absence of any remaining carriages. The last of the guests had already left, and her family

wooden doors of the church stood wide open, inviting a stream of guests to fill the pews, their chatter a lively hum that echoed through the space. Some marvelled

shoes gleamed beneath the neatly pressed hems of his dark trousers. His hands were clasped

flickered restlessly towards the entrance. He had been waiting—anticipating that moment when the doors would open and Ruelle would step forward. But instead, his gaze flickered to Lorenzo Helsing and Count Westerling, who stood near the entrance with two other men. He knew that every second

was only here on Helsing's invitation, a brief stop during his business in town, but his judgement carried weight far beyond mere

the gathering for a human family," Westerling murmured, his voice low. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the throngs of guests. "It seems the entire village has turned up for this spectacle. Not an

a thin smile playing on his lips. "Ezekiel is a well-known figure around these parts. A popular man, it seems. He will be a perfect addition

will

Ezekiel is an excellent candidate for the High Court. The Belmonts were in quite the financial bind, and he offered them not just aid, but stability. They have

this but made no further