Chapter 40: The mix to run and prey
"Feigned innocence."
Lucian’s words replayed in Ruelle’s mind, echoing with an intensity that lingered long after they had left his lips. The rest of the dinner hour had drifted past in a fog, with Hailey and Kevin animatedly discussing their latest class, their voices faint against her thoughts.
She couldn’t help but question how Lucian knew. Who had seen them? Had someone told him? And if they had, could they be sitting here now? Her gaze flitted around the wide dining room, scanning familiar faces that now seemed unfamiliar, cloaked in possible judgement. Two students looked at her as she passed, their glances brief yet lingering just enough to send a chill down her spine.
"You may have fooled others... but not me."
Ruelle wished she knew why Lucian despised her. Beneath the table, her fingers twisted together, tense at the memory of his rejection. She had reached out before she had even realised it—a reflexive gesture—only to be scorched in return. His response had burnt her like an open flame, leaving her raw and blistered.
Her gaze drifted across the dining hall again, and her eyes caught on a figure seated at the Elite table. Alanna. She was watching her with an unnervingly twisted smile, and Ruelle quickly looked back at her friends. She hadn’t forgotten the vampiress she had stabbed, who was waiting for her chance for revenge.
"...next week, and I’m already stressing," Hailey said, breaking through Ruelle’s haze, her chin resting on the table.
"Clever timing, if you ask me," Kevin sighed, pushing his plate aside. "They had never scheduled this kind of thing in winter before—but blood’s easier to store on ice. And you women are luckier than us men. It is just a heated needle through the lobe for you. We get the, uh, ’direct extraction method.’" He grimaced, as though imagining it.
"Did you decide when or how you want to do it, Ruelle?" Hailey turned to ask her.
Ruelle shook her head and replied, "Not yet. I am not good with being pricked with needles." She loved knitting fabrics, but knowing something sharp was about to pierce her skin felt entirely different.
"Not exactly optional," Kevin muttered, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "We are here to keep Elites and Halflings well-fed. Unless you are one of the few ’lucky’ ones... you know, picked to become a Halfling."