Chapter 231 - 231: The Body That Would Bloom

Six days passed since Ruelle had returned home, seven days since grief had struck the people in there.

The wedding was postponed, and people of the high society wondered if the treaty was cursed, considering it was the second time for it to be disrupted. And half of them wondered if the funeral was held privately, considering no one had received an invitation to attend it.

Right now in the prayer hall, Ruelle sat beside Lachlan on a low wooden bench. Her face had faded from bruise-dark to a faded, cream-dry yellow around the edges, but the swelling was gone and her vision restored. She had come to this room each day. She sat in the same place, on the same bench, and she spoke to him. Even though he had been moved away from the block of ice, his body carried the scent of rot in it.

Her hands were folded in her lap as she watched him now.

Lachlan's chest had been slightly carved to put the seeds in there. The seeds needed the body to be decomposing, which gave it enough material to grow in. Every three hours, the body was cleaned outwardly, while his clothes had been changed to a clean white shirt and brown trousers.

Her eyes lowered and so did her voice, as she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Ruelle had uttered those words plenty enough that she hoped Lachlan's ghost would come to find her and tell her to stop it. But she knew her cousin, and he would have welcomed it anyways.

"I am sorry, Lachlan... For doing this to you. I should have—" Her words found it hard to leave her lips and she pursed before continuing, "I know I should let you lie in peace, and not like this. I am sorry I am unable to bring you back... and am using you now. I hope you can forgive me…"

Somewhere during those six days, Harold Belmont's words had begun creeping back into her thoughts.

'People around you die.'

She hated that some broken part of her had started finding evidence for them. Because if she hadn't invited Lachlan to the wedding, he would still have been in the north.

Looking behind, she noticed the doors closed. Lucian had only left her five minutes ago as the officer had come to talk to him.

Her hands clutched tightly before she confessed, "I've been doing something people wouldn't like knowing... a little of his corruption, every day without his knowledge." The wind rustled the candle flame where she sat. Last evening, she had thrown up blood.

"I wasn't aware you had it in you. To be conniving."

The voice made Ruelle jump, and when she turned, she caught King Septimus in the room. How long had he been here? She looked back and forth between him and the door before she swallowed,

"Don't tell it to Lucian."

King Septimus smiled at Ruelle, his shoes softly echoing in the room as he walked towards her and came to stand Lachlan's other side. He peered into the dead man's chest before pulling away to straighten his back. "Looks like it is going to sprout tomorrow or sooner than that."

Though the king had helped her and was related to Lucian, Ruelle had never grown entirely comfortable around him. Some part of her still remained watchful, questioning the meaning behind his words and actions.

"It is a difficult position," King Septimus hummed, his expression turning thoughtful beneath her continued stare. "If you keep drawing the corruption from Lucian, eventually it will begin to affect you. If you leave it alone, sooner or later it will consume enough of him that there will be very little choice left but to put him down."

His gaze returned to her. He continued, "But I suspect you have already noticed the more troubling part."

Ruelle remained quiet.

"No matter how much you take from him, the corruption never seems to lessen. You remove some, and before long, it has grown back to almost precisely where it was before," his eyes narrowed faintly, while her fingers curled. "It is catching up with you."

"He refuses my help," stated Ruelle.

"Because he is scared. He loves you too much," King Septimus chuckled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Grief is cruel when it strikes. But there is another kind of cruelty in knowing it may come again and waiting for it."

This was something that had been quietly gnawing at her. She looked down at Lachlan. She then asked,

"What would you do if you were in my place?"

King Septimus did not answer immediately. And when Ruelle heard footsteps move past the doors, her eyes turned in that direction. He finally said,

"If you were a stranger to me, I would tell you to continue. Lucian is my nephew. My blood. If the choice were between his life and that of someone I did not know, there would be very little for me to consider." There was no apology in his voice but only truth. "But you are not someone I do not know." His expression changed faintly, the severity in it easing without quite becoming warmth as he said, "You have made that rather inconvenient."

Ruelle blinked before a small smile formed on her lips. She nodded in agreement, murmuring, "It is indeed inconvenient."

King Septimus regarded her for a moment. He then said,

"Things have not gone particularly kindly for you. And yet you are still thinking beyond what has already been lost. So, if I were in your place, I would do precisely what you are doing now. I would refuse to believe those are the only two choices."

At his words, Ruelle couldn't help but question. Was there an option no one had paid attention to? But before she could think further, Maude appeared at the door.

"Miss Ruelle, Lady Maxine was looking for you."

Ruelle gave a nod, but she didn't follow right away. She turned to King Septimus and asked, "You think there is one?"

But King Septimus simply smiled at her instead of giving her a straight answer. He hummed, "I cannot say for certain. I fear I may change things for myself..."

Ruelle's brows drew together, and he said, "If I were you… I would brush up on what I learned during Sexton. You alone."