Chapter 239 - 239: Decision Of The Weeds

As dark as the mood of the room had turned, Ruelle couldn't help but smile. She had never imagined there would come a day when two people would argue over who got to keep her close. But then she realised that, while she had tried to oversee the problematic people, she hadn't realised her father wanted to take her home.

Carnifex was the first one to break the silence with a perfectly composed expression but the warmth that was directed at her until now, had now evaporated at the sight of Lucian.

"You appear to have misunderstood something, young Slater. Ruelle is my daughter. She will live under my roof until she comes of age. She is six years old and you are what, ten?"

"Try twenty-two. And the last time someone forced her to stay with the name of a father, he had broken limbs," Lucian replied, his expression cold.

Carnifex's eyes narrowed slightly. "I did not say she had no say, but don't you think she deserves to experience what a normal, loving family is like?"

"The Slaters are normal and more than loving, minister. With all due respect," Lucian began, which was enough for Ruelle to know that there wasn't going to be one. "Ruelle and I have lived with each other for months under the same roof. I already saw what happened when she left my side. I understand what her present age looks like to everyone else. I have no intention of crossing a boundary while she is in this body."

Carnifex's jaw clenched.

Now that he had discovered Ruelle was in fact his daughter, he had developed strong opinions, which were entirely non-negotiable like about exactly how much space should exist between her and the boy currently glued to her side. An arm's length, he decided. Perhaps two. Possibly the width of the courthouse.

"I discovered this morning that the child I should have raised was living beneath another man's roof because no one thought to tell me she was mine. You will have to forgive me for wanting my daughter beneath my own roof and think that is unreasonable."

Ruelle watched them for another moment before raising her hands. "Both of you, stop. There is no reason to fight over something so simple."

"I lost six years. I am not going to lose the other twelve," Carnifex softly huffed. He turned back to Lucian. "She will live with you after that, so can't you let me keep her until then?"

Ruelle's expression softened.

Carnifex looked back at her. "I just want to be able to give you things I haven't been able to. And walk you down the aisle not because circumstance brought us back together, but because you are my daughter."

"Father...I don't have to leave one family to belong to another. We may not have had many years together, but the Slaters became my family when I needed one." Ruelle reached out and took her father's hand with her free one. She wound her arms around his neck to hug him. "You will always be my father. The only one. But you should know that Lucian… He is important to me."

Hearing a sigh escape from her father's lips, she patted his back as if to console him.

"I don't want to come across as unreasonable," Carnifex murmured before pulling away from the hug.

"I know," Ruelle offered him a smile.

"Two days out of a week," Carnifex stated with a firm voice, his eyes glancing at the soul bond around his daughter's neck. "Ruelle can stay at your mansion for five days. But I expect her to spend her weekends with me."

Ruelle was surprised that her father was agreeing to it.

"I want to teach you our ways. We could go hunting, of course get you your own horse. Fishing. I–uh–doubt you want to play with dolls? There are things you ought to study—" Carnifex had already begun making plans faster than Ruelle could keep up with them. "What happened?"

Ruelle had only finished the term in Sexton and had wanted to relax rather than think about studying. But on the plus side, she had more knowledge than another six-year-old human.

"She must be thinking of her time in Sexton," Lucian remarked calmly, putting the rest of the bandage back in the box.

For a brief moment, the Elder Minister looked like he was trying to process what the young pureblooded vampire said. He then scowled. "Did Harold Belmont send you there? I will skin him slowly," he scowled.

Ruelle didn't try to stop her father from whatever punishment he was already imagining for Harold Belmont.

In the life they had erased, Lucian had beaten the man and then killed him, yet even death had failed to give Harold peace when Ezekiel later made use of his corpse. And now they had returned twelve years into the past. Judging by the look on her father's face, Harold was going to have to pay for those years all over again.

"Did you have Mrs. Belmont arrested as well?" Ruelle asked her father.

Carnifex gave a slow nod. "You did mention you wanted them imprisoned. Though you gave no instruction on what you wished done with them once the cell doors closed," his voice came flat. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows under his cheekbones. "I intend to have them executed for treason and trying to manipulate the treaty. And that includes the step-sister you grew up with."

Ruelle was aware that this had nothing to do with the treaty and it was personal. A father who had decided to pay for it with the Belmont's blood.

"Caroline is only a child right now," Ruelle protested, her brow furrowing. "Yes, she was spoilt, and her thoughts were influenced by her parents but killing her is harsh. There is still time to teach her, to raise her away from them."

"A tree that grows from poisoned soil rarely bears clean fruit," Carnifex replied coldly. "A lot of times, people are assassinated or entire bloodlines are wiped out because a single child was spared. They grow up nursing the memory of a ruined house, and years later, they return with vengeance. The Belmont family has already produced enough trouble. I would rather leave no loose end."

Ruelle pursed her lips. She then turned to Lucian, asking, "Do you feel the same way?"

"I agree with the logic," Lucian answered and this had her sigh.

To kill Caroline… Sure, they wanted to build a better future, but that didn't mean with the corpses of children who hadn't committed any sin.

"But if you want, we don't have to kill them. Any of them." Lucian still hadn't released her hand, his thumb moving slowly across her knuckles. He then continued,

"That doesn't mean they walk away untouched. Let them spend a couple of months in the dungeon and strip away whatever allowed Harold or Megan to believe they could manipulate the treaty in the first place. Make it sufficiently clear what will happen if either of them attempts to toe the line. In the past, the Belmonts were never particularly capable of threatening anyone beyond their own household. After all, most of their problems came from digging their own graves."

Ruelle's lips pressed together, because it was true.

Though the Belmonts had been chased out of the town, Harold Belmont was a coward to return to the town and reclaim his house. He had instead gotten busy gambling away.

Lucian would have had no difficulty removing Caroline if he believed it necessary. He had simply never done so before because he knew what such a choice would do to her.

He said, "If they understand that they are being watched this time, I doubt the Belmonts will be eager to test how deep the next grave can be."

"Alright," Carnifex replied, making sure it was what she wanted. "I suppose there are advantages to punishment that lasts longer," a glint passed through his eyes.

As time passed at the courthouse, every once in a while a minister or an officer arrived at the door to meet the Elder Minister, enquiring about Ruelle's health.

"I told you it isn't my fault, damn it!"

Ruelle's head turned toward the door at the sudden voice in the corridor. The voice was familiar but it took her a moment to place it, buried as it was under layers of panic. Then it clicked.

Maverick Griswold.

She turned to Lucian, who sat beside her with a perfectly calm expression, as if he had not heard a single word of the commotion unfolding just beyond the door. He had already opened the small medical box that was placed on the side table. He unwinded a fresh length of bandage.

"Maverick, you were the one who handed us the envelope!" came a second person's voice outside.

"It was that damn Slater boy's fault!" Griswold's voice cracked with desperation, his teeth audibly gritted even through the door. "Why don't you bring that boy and question him now?! Just ask him and he will tell you!"

Carnifex made his way to the heavy oak door and opened it, wearing a look of displeasure. He ordered in a stern voice, carrying authority,

"Griswold, behave yourself. This is not your private residence to shout and make a commotion outside my chambers." His gaze swept over the sweating men. "Now. What exactly is going on out here?"

"Elder Minister!" One of the senior ministers stepped forward, one boot stomping against the marble floor for emphasis. "Griswold here handed each of us envelopes, directing us to go visit the dungeon! I have every reason to believe he purposely manufactured a distraction to clear the central area and draw guards away so that Sylvan could corner the little girl in the garden!" The man jabbed an accusatory finger into the air. "He was acting as an accomplice! He deserves to be thrown into the dungeon alongside Sylvan and interrogated under full scrutiny."

"Fucking hell!" Griswold's voice cracked. Veins pulsed violently against his temples as he looked around at others, finding nothing but cold suspicion in their eyes. "What would I even stand to gain by helping Sylvan ruin himself?! I was doing the Elder Minister a favour!"

This had Carnifex raise his eyebrows. "What favour?"

"The envelopes you had in your chambers, Minister," Griswold reminded Carnifex of the envelopes the elder minister had no clue of. "The one that had to be delivered to the ministers."

"There were no such envelopes on my desk, Griswold," Carnifex's eyebrows furrowed.

"Ask the Slater boy! He was the one roaming the halls with the letters clutched to his chest!" Griswold quickly tried to jump out of the situation. He spun toward the door, his hand trembling as he pointed at it. "He told me he took them off your desk! He said he wanted to play court messenger because he's going to be the next Elder Minister!"

A tense silence fell over the corridor. Several ministers exchanged looks of utter disgust.

"What rubbish is this?" one of the older ministers demanded with acidic disbelief. "A young boy from the noble house of Slater orchestrated a coordinated diversion of courthouse officials, and you, a renowned higher officer, simply carried out his bidding?"

"He lied to me!" Griswold shouted, sounding increasingly unhinged. "Bring him out! Ask him yourself!"

"Elder Minister, if you could have the boy step out from your chamber, please," another minister insisted, stepping forward with a polite bow. "Merely to clear the matter and settle Griswold's absurd defence once and for all."

The others nodded while waiting outside the corridor.

Carnifex finally stepped away from the entrance. When his eyes fell on the young boy his hand paused as he stared.

"Minister?" asked an officer, noticing the Carnifex not move for a good second.

But then the door opened wide enough for everyone to take a peek inside the chamber. On one side, Ruelle lay on the couch, flat on her back with her eyes closed. Then on the other side, Lucian sat with a bandage wrapped loosely around his chest and head, wearing a clueless expression.

The ministers not knowing what to say stayed quiet while Griswold stepped in and glared at him. "Lucian Slater."

Lucian turned to look at him, blinking once.

Griswold demanded, "Earlier you handed me the envelopes. Did Sylvan give it to you? This only means the Slaters are involved in the matter—"

"Who are you?" Lucian asked softly, his voice clear and innocent.

Griswold stared at Lucian with anger. "Who am I? You spoke to me less than an hour ago! You gave me the envelopes!"

Lucian's brows drew together faintly. He played with the end of the bandage and he tilted his head in response.

Suddenly one of the ministers caught hold of Griswold by the back of his collar and his heels scraped against the marble floor as he was pulled off balance.

"How shameful of you," the minister chastised, his voice booming through the corridor, "to blame an innocent child for your own actions. You will be interrogated for your part in this, Griswold, and for dragging the Slater name into your defence."

"What—wait!" Griswold's voice pitched higher as he tried to free himself. "I didn't—he was the one—You can't just drag me like—I have rights in this courthouse!"

Soon Griswold was dragged out of sight, his protests echoing down the corridor before the place finally fell silent.

With other ministers and officers leaving the corridor, Lucian removed the bandage and dropped it on the ground with a cool expression. Ruelle pried her eyes open before making sure the others had left and sat upright.

She saw her father wearing a look of suspicion as he remarked, "Now I will have to keep him in the cell for a few days so that it doesn't bring attention to your involvement—"

"He wanted to bed Ruelle," Lucian dropped the past information.

For a moment, Carnifex simply went quiet. Then his eyes shifted towards his little daughter, who barely reached above his waist. Without a word, he crossed to the desk and pulled open one of the drawers. He retrieved a silver pistol from inside and murmured, "I will be back," before storming out of there.

Ruelle wasn't sure if they should leave her father alone. Moreover, she hadn't known that Lucian had planned to drag Griswold today.

"How are you doing?" Lucian asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Tired?"

She turned and shook her head. "Just a little bit. It must be the age of the body that's making me feel that way."

To think she would have to wait for twelve more years before her abilities will come into use. But as if in doubt, she stepped down from the couch and walked to the desk. Finding a jug of water, her hand tried to reach for it, but she was too short to reach for it.

But another hand shot forward next to hers, which was longer in length than hers, caught hold of the jug to bring it to her.

"I keep forgetting about the height..." Ruelle smiled at Lucian sheepishly. Some part of her couldn't believe that they would have to go through the age again before they would be able to catch up to their true point before the time was turned. Curious, she asked, "Will you be attending Sexton again?"

"Do you want to attend it?" Lucian asked her, as if her presence mattered in the question she had asked.

As chaotic as Sexton had been thanks to some of the students, Ruelle realised that this time, she wouldn't end up as regular groundling. She would end up as an Elite student because of the Slaters and her father now.

"Maybe a little," Ruelle murmured in thought before she smiled at him. After all, it was where she had met her friends.

She dipped her fingers into the water before tracing a circle with her fingertip, encasing an inverted triangle before writing the intricate runes of a beginner's concealment spell. But before she could drop a blood, the water suddenly evaporated into thin air.

Ruelle stared at the dry ground.

"What were you trying for?" Lucian asked, watching her from where he was sitting crouched next to her.

"To make it disappear... but the spell wasn't complete," Ruelle murmured, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Lucian's gaze lingered on the empty spot on the floor, then shifted to her hands. Without a word, he took her hands into his own. The moment his fingers curled around hers, a sudden, searing heat bloomed beneath her skin and for a moment, she flinched.

Ruelle gasped, turning her forearm over. Beneath the sleeve of her dress, dark lines were rising to the surface like ink and her eyes widened.

"It wasn't supposed to be there..."

"Probably a carry-forward from before?" Lucian murmured, his voice laced with quiet wonder. "Just like my corruption."

She finally felt the heat disappear and soon the marks faded back beneath her skin.

"It looks messy. Like the one you had carved before when you fought Ezekiel in the snow," he noted softly, looking up into her eyes.

How strange, thought Ruelle. "But before the change in time, my forearm was completely healed."

"Maybe it was only healed on the surface," Lucian reasoned, his dark eyes sharpening. "By the look of it, it seems to have etched itself into you."

This meant that she wouldn't have to draw out her blood or make new markings again.

"Try something else. Maybe to bring back the marking on the ground," he encouraged her.

Ruelle nodded before focusing her thoughts on it. The flames flickered, and soon water droplets formed on the ground.

"It works...!" She threw her hands around Lucian's neck, who caught her in his arms.

"Good job, Ruelle," Lucian murmured into her hair.

When he patted her head, she leaned into the affectionate gesture, her heart filled with happiness. Her cheeks flushed slightly from the warmth of his touch and the rush of emotions she felt.

To think she wouldn't have to wait for twelve years to learn more witch abilities, she couldn't help but wonder if she could make a pathway to visit Belladonna in the future.

While the two of them stayed in the same position, they heard someone clear their throat.

"It seems the children are quite occupied with one another," a strong voice remarked, and Ruelle pulled back, turning toward the door, only to find Lord Azriel standing there accompanied by none other than the King himself. But he didn't have the same appearance, as he now wore an eyepatch over one side of his eye.

'I fear I may change things for myself if I were to meddle.'

Did he lose his good eye for guiding her? Did that mean if he had given her a straight answer... he wouldn't exist in this world too?

"Hm?" Septimus hummed, a flicker of intrigue crossing his expression. Ever perceptive, he caught the direction of her stare immediately. "It would seem I'm missing something I once had. Perhaps you owe me a debt for that? Maybe I should simply have you wed to my youngest son for the treaty."

"No," came the quick response from Ruelle and Lucian.

Ruelle shook her head as Lucian instinctively stepped in front of her, shielding her from the king's gaze. The king looked utterly amused by the action. Before the conversation could continue, Lord Azriel interjected by asking, "Where has Carnifex gone off to?"

"To skin Griswold. Or stab him. Possibly both," Lucian replied in a nonchalant tone.

"Then let us pay Sylvan and his mother a visit," Azriel decided, effectively ending the discussion. With that, the group made their way out of the Elder Minister's chamber.

The walk down to the dungeon wasn't long, with every officer and minister who had stepped out and away from whatever they were doing to greet the king with a deep bow. Ruelle, not wanting to stay behind, had gone along with them. But it also meant that she had to act as if she were weak and it left her and Lucian taking slower steps.

Leaving the corridors behind, they descended a winding flight of damp stairs steps where the warm light of lanterns gave way to the wall-mounted torches. The air grew progressively colder, carrying the unmistakable scent of rusted iron and wet stone.

When they finally arrived at a closed room, the guard bowed and opened the lock of the door, letting them see Minister Sylvan, whose usual shrewd appearance faltered at the sight of King Septimus in there.

Ruelle noticed the minister was already beaten because of his bloody face and his clothes covered in dried blood.

"Your Majesty…" Sylvan greeted with a reluctant bow as if if he wasn't watchful, someone would axe his head off his shoulders. "I assume Lord Azriel brought you here to correct this absurd misunderstanding. The Elder Minister, he—"

"There is no misunderstanding, Sylvan," Lord Azriel interrupted smoothly. "We have confessions from the people who were appointed to start the massacre."

"What confession?" Sylvan's brow furrowed, his composure cracking.

"From down the hall. Your mother has told us everything we had to know," Lord Azriel stated, his chin tilting faintly toward the other end of the corridor.

"That is utter nonsense!" Sylvan snapped, his voice dropping an octave. He glared, "I am being framed."

"That was what your mother said as well," Lord Azriel replied evenly.

Sylvan's expression shifted, something like disbelief flickering across his sharp features. A humourless laugh escaped him. "Are you trying to frame me and lie that my mother said so, milord?" He stepped closer to the bars, his knuckles turning white from gripping the iron bars. "Perhaps you should bring her here and ask. I am sure she will tell the right things."

"It doesn't erase the fact that you tried to sabotage the treaty, Minister," Lord Azriel appeared unbothered by the accusation thrown at him.

Sylvan's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. "I did no such thing."

"The evidence says otherwise."

"Evidence can be fabricated," Sylvan hissed, his eyes darting wildly between Lord Azriel and the King. For a moment, no one spoke, allowing the accusation to hang heavily in the damp, torch-lit air. The silence seemed to unsettle him further than any direct rebuttal could have.

"It was never me!" Sylvan protested. With how grim the atmosphere had turned, a suspicious doubt came to form in the minister's mind. "That woman is trying to bury me beneath her own madness!"

Lord Azriel's expression remained perfectly neutral as he responded, "Your mother claims the opposite, minister."

"Of course she does!" Sylvan barked, "Do you think she would let herself hang when she can place the rope around my neck instead? She has been consumed by gathering Belladonna's items for years!"

"Why is she looking for it?" Lord Azriel pressed, his voice low but unrelenting, giving the minister no room to retreat back into denial.

Sylvan fell silent for a long moment, his breathing ragged, his gaze unfocused as though wrestling internally with a decision he'd sworn never to voice aloud. The torches crackled somewhere down the corridor, the only sound filling the silence.

"Isn't it obvious?" His voice was hollow as his eyes lifted, locking onto King Septimus.

"My mother wants to go back," Sylvan said, his voice dropping to something quieter, almost reverent with disgust, "to the time before you chose your first wife, Your Majesty."

Ruelle's eyes widened as she stared at the minister. So all this while, Lady Sylvan wanted to change back time so that King Septimus would choose her? Or was it so that she could be the queen?

And when Minister Sylvan's eyes finally fell on Ruelle, who stood outside, rage filled him, and he made his way to grab her, "This human was only faking it!"

But before he could take a step closer to her, King Septimus raised his hand and the next moment, white strings slipped out from his fingers and went straight into Sylvan's chest, making him choke and bringing the minister to his knees.

But along with the white strings, black tendrils had crawled and wrapped themselves around the minister's feet.

"It seems you have forgotten how to behave, Minister Sylvan," King Septimus clicked his tongue. "What a disappointment, when you had such potential. Between the evidence already gathered and your attempt to dissolve the treaty, I see little reason to delay your execution."

"Wait!" The minister's face drained of colour as he felt the pressure tightening inside his chest. "You cannot believe her over me!"

King Septimus regarded him for a long moment and he then smiled.

"We do believe you, Sylvan."

For the briefest second, relief loosened the minister's features. His shoulders dropped, as though he had finally managed to claw his way out of the grave opening beneath him.

"Th–Then..." His eyes flickered between the king and Azriel. "Then I am cleared, right?"

Septimus did not answer immediately. His gaze lowered to the white threads disappearing into Sylvan's chest, then looked back at him.

"Your mother being more dangerous does not make you harmless. If I release you, you will spend the rest of your life looking for the person responsible for this humiliation."

The relief vanished from Sylvan's lips, his features turning pale.

Sylvan's breathing became shallow.

"I wouldn't—Your Majesty..." His voice cracked. "I have served the Crown for years."

"And you could have continued doing so. I would rather deal with you now than wait for you to become someone else's problem." Septimus raised his hand and Sylvan's eyes widened in terror.

"No—"

The king curled his fingers into a fist and Sylvan's body suddenly jerked violently, a strangled gasp escaping him. Blood spilled from the minister's lips as his knees gave way. For one fleeting second, his eyes carried disbelief before his body struck the ground.

"Looks like Carnifex's hands will be full with the ministers trying to take the now vacant seat thanks to Sylvan," King Septimus remarked, drawing the white strings back to him, which disappeared in a blink of an eye.

"It seems like it. Are you going to visit Lady Sylvan?" Lord Azriel asked the king, who was cleaning his fingers with his handkerchief.

Ruelle saw the king drop the used handkerchief to the ground. King Septimus didn't bother to look in the direction where the vampiress was tied, as if she wasn't worth his time. He glanced at the deceased before saying,

"Have her executed in public so that others understand that no one will be spared for treason."