Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 53: Thief among us

Ruelle stood at the front of the room, her back straight, hands loose at her sides, while the guard turned her bag inside out. She had nothing to fear. And yet—her chest felt tight.

The guard’s hands rifled through Ruelle’s belongings, flipping through her parchment and quills thoroughly.

"I have done nothing wrong," she reminded herself, though her fingers curled slightly. A whisper cut through the silence—

"Watch, they will find it in her bag."

She ignored those words and instead, her gaze flickered to the back of the room, where she caught a figure at the doorway.

It was Ezekiel. His arms were crossed, his face composed—but the look in his eyes was different. The guard tugged at a stubborn zipper. The old fabric of Ruelle’s bag groaned under the force before it tore clean.

A few students snickered. Ruelle’s face burned in embarrassment, heat radiating from her flushed cheeks.

The guard’s hand reached inside, feeling along the frayed seams. He then paused, as if finding something, and then stated, "Clear."

It was a single word. And yet, the weight that lifted from Ruelle’s chest felt like an entire mountain crumbling away.

From the doorway, Ezekiel’s stance remained unchanged—but his fingers twitched. A minuscule movement. A reaction so small, it would have been unnoticeable—if not for the tightening of his jaw and the flicker of disbelief in his darkening gaze. That wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought to himself.

Ruelle accepted her bag, going out of the room to keep her bag and then returning to her seat.

"Margot Anderson," the guard called the next Groundling in the room.

Unlike the rest of the students who were interested in seeing who the culprit was, Ruelle began to focus on answering the questions.

Across the room, a chair scraped against the floor. It was Alanna, who rose smoothly to her feet and announced, "I have completed my test."

"Already? Even though she came in last?" one of the students remarked in awe.

A smug smile played on Alanna’s lips as she left her seat. But Mr. Mortis’s voice cut through the room, and he instructed, "Remain seated until dismissed."

Alanna stopped mid-step. She protested, "But I finished—"

"And I said no one leaves until every student is searched," Mr. Mortis snapped curtly.

For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed Alanna’s face. Her fingers curled around the edge of her desk. Slowly, she lowered herself back down.

Ruelle finished answering her paper after going through it twice. Once she laid the quill down on her desk, she sensed someone’s eyes on her and looked at the front, but everyone was busy. It was then that she caught Alanna staring at her.

The search continued. One by one, bags were checked. One by one, students were cleared. But Alanna’s nails dug into her desk. She wasn’t worried about the search. She was worried about what she had done earlier this morning.

Alanna walked toward the examination hall, Gwendolyn at her side.

As she placed her bag down, her gaze flickered—pausing on the pile of discarded bags outside the hall. One stood out among the rest which was tattered and she knew it belonged to the pathetic Groundling.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Are you coming?" Gwendolyn asked.

"You go ahead," Alanna replied, feigning a warm smile. "I need to find my quills."

As soon as Gwendolyn stepped inside, Alanna moved with no one else in the corridor. She plucked up Ruelle’s bag, her fingers quick as she unfastened the bag. She was about to tear the bottom such that the bag could be of no use.

But then something cool and delicate touched her finger. She pulled out the silver chain, around which hung a pendant. Deep blue, the gemstone shimmered under the morning light, expensive, elegant. This... belonged to the lowly Groundling? Alanna’s grip tightened.

"How did it come under her possession?"

A gift? A favour? Some Elite fool taking pity on her? The Groundling didn’t deserve this, and it belonged to someone more worthy, someone of class... someone like herself. With a quiet, calcuative move, she placed the pendant in her handkerchief, before slipping it in her pocket.

Alanna couldn’t sit still. Her fingers were tapping impatiently against her thigh. She needed to get out of here.

"Alanna!"

Her head snapped up.

Forcing a calm, composed smile, she rose and made her way to the front, her every movement controlled. She and her bag were checked. Nothing.

"Now that I’ve been searched, I assume I’m free to go?" Alanna declared, a smirk returning to her lips.

Mortis barely looked

answer sheets to hand it over, her mind already drifting to how to place the pendant back to

guard stopped her before she could leave the

her eyebrows. "Do

and

smother the rising panic, but her throat

guard repeated. "It needs

silk fabric. Something heavy slipped free. The sapphire pendant hit the ground with a soft clink. Silence stretched through the room

where the pendant sparkled. The whispers continued to be hushed with curiosity, amusement,

but wonder why Alanna had to steal it. She had everything—money, power, reputation. What did she gain from

forward, his sharp gaze

Mr. Mortis stated, his voice calm but laced with disappointment. "I must say,

blurted suddenly, "It wasn’t me!" She then turned to Ruelle, pointing her finger and exclaiming, "It was her! That filthy Groundling stole it and

murmur rippled through the

expected Alanna to deny her thievery, but turning it on her? Her fingers curled into her palms, but she kept her voice steady and said to Mr. Mortis, "I swear I never stole

have known the guards would search

never known or touched that

it! You set

quit pointing fingers at Belmont without any evidence," one of the first year Elite interjected, standing up for Ruelle. "I mean, let’s be honest—it wouldn’t

around, her face darkening. "Y–You

Ruelle replied in the moment.

"That’s true—"

remember. Didn’t she

burned with humiliation. She spat, anger creeping into her voice, "But this is

his next words. "Are you saying that you, an Elite, allowed a Groundling to not only steal an expensive pendant... but also plant it on you

snickered. Someone

but no

at Alanna, any trace of patience gone. He ordered, "Follow me to my office, Miss Alanna." The vampiress froze. He didn’t wait for her to move. His voice was final, "And

passed through the vampiress at the mention of her parents hearing about it. The colour drained from her face, her usual arrogance

to maintain some dignity as she walked towards the door. But that was not before glaring at

vampiress stepped out of the room. Her fingers clenched around the edge of her desk,

Mortis had been the slightest bit more skeptical, if there had been any

released her

if drawn by an unseen force, her gaze moved across the room—Lucian’s

caught for a

that same unreadable, detached stare. Like he had been watching the entire thing unfold. Like he had been waiting to

could hear his voice in the back

herself to break the eye contact first. But the weight of his gaze lingered,

the corridor, Ezekiel stood stifly while gritting his teeth. He watched Mr. Mortis leave with the Elite

should have left Sexton. Instead, Alanna had been the one to fall. How? His plan had been flawless. He had placed the pendant

when the guard searched her bag, it hadn’t been there. A bitter taste coated Ezekiel’s tongue as he walked

desk, trying to focus on her studies. But instead, she looked at Lucian’s side of the

returned

day, Ruelle found him

It had been an entire day since she’d last seen him. He

sound of it against the window filled the silence of her room, its rhythmic patter pressing against her thoughts. The storm outside felt endless, the kind that made the

hovered over the parchment, her notes scattered across the desk. She tried to focus, to drown out the gnawing worry creeping into her mind. But her gaze flickered toward his desk. The books on his shelf sat in

Where was he?

turned her head towards the window. The storm had swallowed the world outside in a curtain of water, the wind howling and the academy grounds

then she heard

dormitory door

her breath catching as a tall, drenched

Lucian.

soaked through from the storm. He shut the door behind him without a word, the low click of the latch cutting

shadows on his face, accentuating the sharp line of his

walked straight through hell with his shoes leaving

"Lucian," she started, her voice softer than she

lifted. His deep, unreadable dark red eyes met

time, she felt

A drop of

Ruelle asked

The rain

with a crooked smile,