Chapter 232 - 232: Mirror Mirror On The Wall

Ruelle stared at King Septimus, who had refused to give her a direct answer and bothered only to leave her with a clue. Lucian was his nephew. Did he not understand that time was of the essence?

Seeing Maude still waiting by the door, Ruelle offered the king a reluctant bow before stepping out of the prayer hall.

'I would brush up on what I learned during Sexton.'

She followed Maude down the corridor, her brows drawing together. The first subject that came to mind was Seduction Techniques. She immediately shook her head. Surely it wasn't that. Not Mr. Jinxy's class either.

What about haematology? Her steps slowed slightly. Lucian's blood was what the corruption was tainting, after all. She tried to recall everything she had been taught about it. The composition of blood, the difference between human and vampire bodies, and the way certain ailments travelled through it. But corruption was not an ailment. At least, she did not think it was.

Ruelle's mouth tightened.

Maude glanced over her shoulder. "Is something wrong, Miss Ruelle?"

"No." Ruelle's answer came too quickly. She offered a smile. "I was just thinking."

But if there was another way... wouldn't Lucian know about it? He knew far more about vampires and corruption than she ever had. And if he did know, but had never mentioned it to her, was it perhaps because the answer carried a cost he didn't want her to consider?

Lady Maxine appeared at the other end of the corridor, and Ruelle slowed as they approached one another. She said,

"I heard you were looking for me."

"I was," Lady Maxine replied, resting a hand lightly against Ruelle's back. She gave Maude a small nod, and the housekeeper bowed before leaving them. "The weather has cleared, and I thought you could use some fresh air. I asked the servants to set up tea and food outside."

Ruelle glanced towards the windows lining the corridor. She had hardly paid attention to the weather these past few days. She followed Lady Maxine down the corridor, their heels clicking against the ground. When she stepped outside onto the terrace, she felt the rays of sun touch her.

"Ruelle!" Hailey waved for her to sit next to her. Beside her sat Angelina and Lady Ravencroft, Lady Maxine's mother.

There was tea, short cakes and finger sandwiches resting on the table.

As Ruelle crossed the terrace, the winter sun warmed her healing face. She lowered herself into the chair beside Hailey. The cushion was soft, the tea already steaming in a cup set before her, and for a moment the ordinary comfort of it made it feel like nothing was amiss.

Lady Ravencroft nudged a small jam tart towards Ruelle. She said, "Try this one, darling. Lucian asked the cook to make them."

"Do you remember the last time we offered him sweets? He wouldn't touch a single one." Lady Maxine laughed softly at the memory. "For someone who doesn't care for them, he seems remarkably good at choosing which ones taste best."

The Ravencrofts, King Septimus and Lady Maxine's family had stayed behind at the Slaters' mansion. They tried to make things feel as normal as possible. One might have thought they were beginning to move forward, but Ruelle could sense the unease beneath it. Everyone was waiting for something to happen.

Yet, no one knew which shoe was going to drop first.

Ruelle accepted the jam tart, turning it over before she bit into it.

"His Highness liked these too," Lady Ravencroft said with a warm chuckle, nodding at the small tray of tarts. "He had them packed before he left this morning. Though I believe they weren't completely baked."

Ruelle's attention was pulled towards her and she asked, "Did he return to the castle?"

"Not yet." Lady Ravencroft's smile softened. "He went along with Sawyer to scout around the Sylvan mansion to keep an eye on things there."

Since the mirror's location had been found, the Sylvan mansion had been kept under watch. They needed to make sure no one came to use it or discovered that the mirror had somehow become whole again.

After spending some more time with them, Ruelle finally excused herself and Hailey tagged along with her.

"Don't worry, Ruelle." Hailey slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Even if Mr. S doesn't wake… nobody is going to blame you for it. I know it is easy to say, but don't be hard on yourself."

"It's not what is weighing on my mind," Ruelle confessed.

Hailey turned to look at her with one eyebrow lifting. She said, "I am all ears. I'd like to ease your mind," before joking lightly, "though I doubt I'd be as efficient at it as Lucian."

Ruelle's footsteps paused, and Hailey's followed a beat later, her skirts settling as she stopped mid-stride. Ruelle glanced down both ends of the corridor, which was empty. Her voice then dropped,

"It has to do with what we learned in Sexton. The classes. The subjects they covered."

Hailey blinked. Whatever she had expected, it clearly wasn't this. Her cheeks coloured, a warm, embarrassed pink creeping up from her collar.

"You do remember I barely scraped through most of those, right?" she said, half a laugh caught in her throat. "I passed on the strength of your notes and sheer luck. There's nothing retained in here," she pointed at her head. She then asked, "But why do you want to go through the subjects again?"

Ruelle recognised the look in Hailey's eyes. Her friend seemed to be wondering whether grief had finally driven her to the point of voluntarily revisiting classwork.

Pulling Hailey to the side, Ruelle said softly, "King Septimus said there's a way to help Lucian."

Hailey's eyes widened at those words. She exclaimed, "That's excellent news! You should get to it right away—"

"But I don't know what it is," Ruelle cut in, her voice quieter. "He didn't tell me what it was. He only gave me a clue and left it at that."

A scowl formed on Hailey's face. "What is wrong with him?" She caught herself, waving a hand as if physically batting the question away. "Don't answer that. Maybe the answer is easy?"

Ruelle hoped that it was so. Unless King Septimus overestimated her calibre in Sexton.

"In a way... if it was something he could do, he would have tried to help, right?" Hailey said, thinking hard, her words coming slowly as she worked through the logic out loud. "Maybe it is something only you can do. Something with your spell or—"

"Like potions..." Ruelle murmured.

She had walked into that room still shaky from the morning before she had seen Lucian break a student's face with his bare hands. She had missed the beginning of Mr. Savantique's introduction but had paid attention once he began to speak about the potion.

"I know what King Septimus meant!"

A grin broke across Hailey's face. "Squeezing my brain does wonders sometimes," she laughed, wiping an imaginary sweat from her brow.

"He mentioned the purest victims being one of the ingredients. Forbidden," she breathed, adrenaline building, the pieces clicking into place.

Hailey frowned. "Victims?"

"Not the ingredient itself. The person used to grow it, which is the boline plant," she whispered. Her lips widened, a spark catching in her chest. The kind of bright, reckless hope she hadn't felt in days. "Mr Savantique was talking about Boline. The victim had to be someone the witch was attached to! It is the Belladonna potion"

Hailey's smile faltered at this, her head tilting slightly in doubt before she asked, "But, Ruelle… Aren't we going to do that already?"

"Not that. King Septimus was worried how it would affect him because of the meddling repercussions. Of the change caused by time!" Ruelle explained to her friend. "I should go check it!" and she ran.

The sound of her shoes echoed through the corridor before she ended up in the mansion's library. Hailey followed her shortly, startled with the urgency, and she asked,

"What are you looking for?"

"Anything on Belladonna. Anything on witches, actually. We can narrow it down later," Ruelle replied, walking past the racks and beginning to scan the shelves one by one, her fingers trailing along spines. "If I remember correctly, it has a dark blue binding."

"Okay," Hailey nodded to help her. "Something blue. Blue," she murmured as she began to look through before pulling one of them. "Origin of halflings. Not the one," and she put it back.

The library was vast, shelves rising higher than either of them could reach without a ladder, the air thick with the smell of old leather and paper and dust. Candles burned in wall sconces, casting long shadows between the stacks, and somewhere above them a window let in the last grey light of the fading afternoon.

Ruelle was too focussed, going through the books and pulling random blue ones, before she finally found the one. "This is the one, Hailey. I found it."

Hailey quickly hurried to stand beside Ruelle while the latter turned the pages with her fingers trembling with anticipation.

Ruelle's finger stopped at the line and she said softly, "This works with potion and spell, which has never been attempted before. There are also side effects."

"Is it going to steal your life force?" Hailey asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"No. Not life force. It said—What is known cannot be returned to ignorance. The one who learns beside the witch shall no longer walk with the witcher as they once would have. What is there won't be there without consequences…" Ruelle stared at the words.

"It sounds quite ominous..." Hailey murmured with worry.

Ruelle, who was quiet, finally realised why King Septimus refused to give her a proper solution. Her eyes moved to Hailey, who blinked at her. Because the moment the spell would be cast, things wouldn't be the same for Hailey and her.

Closing the book quickly, Ruelle slid it back into its place on the shelf.

"Ruelle?"

"Hailey, forget I brought this up and don't bring it up with anyone else," Ruelle pressed at her friend. She doubted Hailey understood the exact meaning and she didn't want to draw her into it further.

Leaving the library, the two women began to walk through the corridors, their steps slower now. When they turned a corner and saw Lucian's silhouette at the far end of the hall, Hailey gave Ruelle's arm a brief squeeze and quietly excused herself. He stood next to the tall window, the last grey light of the afternoon falling across his face, casting silvered edges on his dark coat, his single eye catching the fading sun like a coal that had not yet gone cold.

Ruelle walked toward him on her own.

When his hand extended to her, she placed hers in it, feeling him pull her closer as if the whole corridor and the hour it belonged to had been arranged solely for this small motion.

"I was looking for you," Lucian said, the darkness in his gaze continuing to linger, the shadow of something he hadn't said yet still coiled behind his words.

"You found me." Ruelle smiled, and even after everything, the smile came easily around him.

He lifted her hand and carefully brushed the faint dust from her sleeve, his thumb passing once over her knuckles, the motion slow enough to be a kind of devotion rather than mere tidiness. He didn't let go of her hand once the dust was gone.

"I did." His eye returned to hers, as though searching for something buried just beneath the surface of her face. Then he said, "I have arranged a meeting with the Sylvans tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she murmured.

The Boline plant would sprout by tomorrow morning, thought Ruelle. It was only right to set things in motion rather than let it drag on any longer. Not to mention, there was guilt at the thought of leaving Brother Lachlan to decompose in the room. The faint smell had begun drifting through halls but no one spoke about it.

Lucian's fingers tightened around hers, just slightly, a silent acknowledgement of her worries. He said, "I will be right there with you."

Ruelle looked at him and for a moment she let herself simply lean into the warmth of his hand instead of the cold weight of everything she hadn't told him yet. Worried it would alter things between them.

"I know," she said softly. "That's the only reason I haven't fallen apart yet."

He drew her hand up and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"You remember what you are going to say to the lady?" Lucian asked, as if going through their plan once again.

Ruelle nodded. "That I want to see the room my mother used to occupy when she used to live there." But after a pause, she asked, "But what if they suspect and decide to tag along?"

Because she needed time to make the markings and use the ingredients one by one. She was nervous but equally looking forward to it.

"They will."

Ruelle's eyes widened at his words in concern.

Lucian offered her a ghost-like smile. "I would be disappointed if they didn't. You don't have to worry about them, because they will be taken care of."

"He's going to be mad if he finds out he was only being lied to..." Ruelle didn't want another problem while they were solving the current one.

"Come here." He pulled her to a warm embrace. "You don't have to be anxious."

Ruelle went without hesitation, her arms wrapping around his torso, her hands pressing flat against his back. She pressed the side of her face against his chest, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric of his shirt, listening to the steady, patient rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

As peaceful as it felt, Ruelle could sense the corruption beneath that warmth. Releasing the corruption through the plants to filter it out of here, she knew he was bound to find out soon. But there was more of it than yesterday.

The following day, Ruelle woke up before dawn as if the anticipation of the unknown hadn't let her rest.

She spent the early hours with Lucian, and once they had bathed and dressed, they made their way to the prayer hall. Upon opening the doors, the scent of the dead was mixed with flowers that were being replaced every few hours in the room.

Before she even crossed the room, she caught sight of the thin, pale green stem, which was no taller than her hand. Two small leaves had unfurled at its tip, soft and new and almost luminous in the dim candlelight, their edges still faintly damp as if the sprout had finished the last of its emergence only moments before. It grew from him—from the body of the brother who continued to give her hope even after his death.

"It is time..." Ruelle murmured, her hand finding Lucian's. She felt him squeeze it back, his grip steady, grounding, the same quiet certainty he'd offered her all this time.

Two hours later, the carriage rolled through the iron gates of the Sylvan estate. Peyton drove the carriage, while the passengers consisted of Ruelle, Lucian, Sawyer, Lord Azriel and King Septimus.

Ruelle sat beside Lucian, watching the mansion grow larger through the window and somewhere inside it waited Belladonna's mirror.

Her fingers tightened around her coat, which carried all the ingredients she would need to make the spell work.

The carriage finally came to a stop and the footman opened the door for people to get down one by one.

"Your Majesty," Minister Sylvan offered a deep bow before saying, "I wasn't aware that you would be visiting us too."

King Septimus offered a charming smile. He responded, "It was a rather sudden decision. I thought I might accompany them."

Minister Sylvan glanced briefly at the others before his expression settled into a courteous smile. "Of course, Your Majesty. We are honoured to receive you. Had I known, I would have made more suitable arrangements. I must admit, I did not expect quite such distinguished company this morning. Please come in."

Lord Azriel and King Septimus were the first to enter, while Ruelle, Lucian and Sawyer entered after them. Peyton stayed next to the carriage but alert.

She turned to look at Sawyer, whose eyes moved to the right as if telling her that was the path she was supposed to take to arrive at the required room.

"Mr. Ravencroft," Minister Sylvan called for his attention, which was enough to have Sawyer's eyes snap. "Is there a reason why you attacked Lady Lia?"

"Who, me?" Sawyer blinked before saying, "I don't think I understand what you mean."

"Lady Lia informed me that a week ago, you struck her. Entered her room through the window without permission," Sylvan stated, his eyes narrowing slightly as they crossed the corridor and entered the room.

Sawyer's brows lifted. "Did she?"

"She did."

"How strange." He gave the matter a moment's thought. "Are you certain she didn't mean Angelina? She was the one who visited the mansion. Perhaps she dreamt it?" Sawyer's expression remained perfectly innocent.

Before Minister Sylvan could say another word, Lucian spoke from behind them,

"Sawyer was with me the entire time. He was helping me look for Ruelle."

Minister Sylvan's eyes narrowed as they took a seat on the couch. His eyes were slightly narrowed in suspicion and he asked, "Then why would Lady Lia claim otherwise?"

Lucian's gaze shifted briefly towards Sawyer. He remarked, "You would have to ask Lady Lia why she has taken to imagining him at her window."

Ruelle listened to Sawyer and Lucian speak, but her attention had begun to drift away from the room. To leave the room this soon would cause suspicion and hence she continued to sit there.

"Still," Minister Sylvan said, his manner becoming considerably warmer, "it is good to see you returned safely, Miss Belmont. I imagine the ordeal was unpleasant."

"I don't imagine anyone enjoys being kidnapped and held against their will, Minister," Ruelle replied politely.

"Tell me, Miss Belmont, while you were away...did you happen to notice anything unusual in the sky that night? A white light, perhaps? Rising above the trees?"

He was talking about the light she had used to guide Lucian towards her.

Ruelle shaped her face into mild curiosity and asked, "I don't recall one. I wasn't in much of a position to watch the sky, Minister." A pause, just long enough to feel honest. "I was underground for most of it."

"You are making my beloved uncomfortable with the memories. How about we speak about the matter we came here for?" Lucian shifted the attention entirely to him.

Minister Sylvan's attention shifted towards him, his lips twitching in disdain that a young vampire looked at him with audacity. He asked, "What matter would that be? Seeing King Septimus has cared to join us today."

Ruelle had hoped to speak to Minister Sylvan's mother and visit her mother's room but the lady hadn't appeared in the room.

"There have been rumours that Carnifex intends for his seat to pass to me," Lucian said, settling back against the couch. "I have no interest in becoming an elder minister. But whoever does take the seat will have considerable influence over matters that concern my family. The treaty included. So, I would rather establish an understanding with someone whose interests are not entirely opposed to mine," he placed his hand on Ruelle's.

Sylvan was quiet for a moment before he questioned, "You are proposing an alliance?"

"Excuse me," Ruelle said, taking this moment to leave the room.

She stepped out of the sitting room, the door closing softly behind her, and found the corridor empty. It wasn't because she was lucky, but for the good fortune of a mansion where the servants had been trained to stay out of sight while men of Lord Azriel's and King Septimus' status were here.

Her heels were quiet on the carpet as she walked deeper and past the portraits, while her pulse counted the seconds.

For a brief moment, she wondered if she would run into Lia.

Only a few steps later, she finally ran into the butler, whose shrewed eyes looked at her unblinkingly. He asked, "Are you trying to reach the garden?"

"Not in this cold weather," Ruelle tried to keep her composure. She didn't smile, knowing doing so would only make her more suspicious. She said, "The men are still finishing their business in the salon and I didn't want to sit beside my own thoughts a moment longer. I thought I'd take the chance to see the mansion."

"Would you like me to show you around then?" the butler asked her.

"Of course," Ruelle replied, because rejecting it would only alarm the person. She asked, "Where is Lady Sylvan?"

"She is sick and has been resting. I will be sure to let her know that you asked for her," the butler responded in an overly polite tone.

She gave a nod before they began to walk. With most rooms open, she knew she had to keep walking. But after asking a question about the painting and walking for a minute, she coughed, bringing her hand to her mouth.

"I'm afraid dust rather disagrees with me," Ruelle murmured, covering another cough. "Would you mind asking for some warm water with honey and lemon? The tea should turn green. You may have it sent to the salon. I expect I'll have returned by then."

The butler gave a small, uncertain pause before bowing, "Of course, Miss."

Ruelle watched him disappear around the corner, listening to his footsteps fade. But feeling slightly paranoid, she followed his path by moving quickly and caught the butler standing there.

"Is something wrong? Or are you perhaps trying to spy on me?" she demanded, her eyebrows furrowing while the butler quickly bowed once again. "I should go let Lucian and the King know you are disrespecting—"

"Forgive me, that wasn't my intention! I will get to it right away," the butler finally left for good this time.

Only when she could no longer hear his footsteps did she turn back.

Ruelle kept walking, quickening her step only when she was sure no one was looking. She passed a reading room before she finally ended up at the end of the corridor, where a room stood closed. Getting closer to it, her hand reached for the handle, turning it before she slipped inside the room.

Once Ruelle closed the door of the room, she noticed how dark it was. The curtains had not been drawn apart, except for one single window. The room smelt of dust, old wood, and something else.

As her eyes adjusted, she finally caught sight of the mirror.

The mirror was propped at the far wall, not far from the window, standing upright as if it had been waiting all this time for someone to come and finally acknowledge it. It was taller than her, with its golden casing carved into winding vines that climbed the frame and curled around the corners.

And as she took a step closer, she felt the pull as if it was calling the witchblood in her veins.

Locking the door of the room, Ruelle pulled out the ingredients she had carried along with her. Small packets wrapped in cloth, vials of dark liquid, dried herbs that still carried their herbal scent, and the thin, ritual blade she had tucked into her sleeve. She knelt before the mirror and began to draw the summoning circle on the floor.

Having already practised it since the last seven days, it didn't take long for her to be done with the symbols. When the last symbol was complete, she set the small bowl before her and lit the fire within it. She then began to pour the ingredients into the bowl, one by one, as the fire hissed.

And then she heard the vibration. It started low, a hum felt more than heard, travelling up through the floor and into her knees. She lifted her eyes from the bowl and found the surface of the mirror was wavering. Like the surface of still water rippling.

But at the same time, the reflection behind her caught her attention and she felt her stomach drop at the sight of Lady Lia lying on the ground in the dark, which hadn't been visible until she had lit the fire. Her chest had been opened up, far worse than Lachlan's, with dried blood inking the woman's clothes and the dusty ground.

And right behind, sat an old woman, watching her with a grim expression.

"Lady Sylvan...?"

Ruelle would have picked up the scent of rot if she hadn't been spending too much time next to her cousin's body. The dull realisation sank in as she watched the vampiress sigh before she stood up from the chair.

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to grow the Boline seeds." Lady Sylvan stepped squarely on the dead woman's hand as she moved forward, showing no sign that she had even noticed. The light from the ritual fire finally reached her wrinkled face. "But I see you succeeded in it."