Ruelle noticed Dane’s eyes stayed on the tranquil painting, though it was unclear whether he was looking at it at all. He stared at it for a moment before saying,

"Come take a closer look. You’ll see it."

She did as he told her, staring at the painting closely and after almost a minute, when her focus almost turned blurry, did she notice the markings on the bark. Her eyes widened in surprise and she asked,

"Lucian painted this?"

Ruelle looked slightly taken aback by it. It seemed like the skills Lucian possessed was balanced by the existence of corruption inside of him. And even that he had tried to get under his control, she thought.

"Interesting, isn’t it? One must first lose oneself in it before seeing what lies in plain sight." Dane raised his hand to trace the aggressive brushstrokes. He said, "The governess suggested he paint so that it would help ease his mind, seeing how aggressive and bloodthirsty he appeared during combat lessons. He was only ten."

"At ten?" Ruelle repeated, because that was too young.

"My father thought it was best we honed our skills after what happened. It was better to be prepared as we didn’t want to lose another person," Dane smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Ruelle’s lips set in a thin line. The way he smiled made it difficult to tell where the truth ended and whatever lay beneath it began.

Dane placed his hand on top of her head. "Don’t look sad," his words gentle.

A deliberate clearing of the throat was heard behind them.

"You should go rest if you have a cold. Don’t want dear Ruelle catching it," Dane stated, smoothening Ruelle’s hair before dropping his hand.

"Mr. Slater, I trust I made it clear that Miss Belmont’s chastity is to be preserved," Peyton spoke in a firm voice.

"Did you not hear her address me? We even share the same hair colour—surely that ought to reassure you that we are siblings," Dane said lightly, and when he turned, he caught the woman pursing her lips.

"You aren’t a sibling by blood, Mr. Slater. Please refrain from touching her," the woman stared back at him.

"You do wound me by saying that," Dane clicked his tongue, the smile still intact. He turned back to Ruelle and asked, "Now then, where were we? The paintings, yes. I am not sure when he started variations of this painting, but I caught the servant burning it on his word."

Ruelle looked taken aback by the information. She murmured, "But they are stunning." Not to mention, painting took effort and time.

"Right?" Dane nodded in agreement. "I guess his emotions were running too deep and dark. Rage and pain can be quite a combination. It seemed like he would unconsciously make them in a single sitting, but he wouldn’t want to see it. I found one even broken in two halves," he chuckled at the memory.

"So you rescued them?" she asked and he hummed in response.

"They proved rather profitable," Dane said, almost idly. "People took a particular interest in them. The king heard of it and claimed one for himself," he chuckled.

Brother Dane surely was different compared to Lucian, Ruelle thought. Selling his brother’s paintings. But then again it was better than burning them.

"How about this one?" she asked because she doubted Lucian had given it to hang voluntarily.

"This one?" Dane asked. "I had something he preferred I kept to myself." He cast a brief glance toward Peyton. "You’d do well to keep a few such things of your own. They tend to be... useful."

Ruelle’s gaze lowered slightly. The thought of holding something over Lucian, of using it against him did not sit well with her. She replied,

"I don’t believe I would have any use for that."

"You misunderstand," Dane responded with the smile lingering on his lips. "You wouldn’t need to find anything. You already have it."

She wondered where Lucian was in the mansion right now and what he was doing.

Then she remembered something. With the paintings being the same but not at the same time, she wondered what the other differences were in those paintings that were given away.

And while Ruelle continued to stare at the painting, Dane watched her briefly before accompanying her while his thoughts drifted to the past.

’Isn’t that an odd clause?’ asked Mrs. Glenn, who was popular when it came to holding soirees. ’You want me to hang it in the front?’

’Are you saying the painting isn’t valuable enough to be there?’ Dane laughed.

’Not at all. It is a beautiful painting and from what I hear, you refused to sell it to some of them,’ the woman replied before her eyes moved to the painting. ’It has become a collector’s choice now. The tree of winter. Especially when you are hiding the painter’s name. I will take it.’

When Dane had first heard about little Ruelle’s hatred of vampires, he’d found it hard to believe. She was too sweet to utter such things. Though he didn’t know the story behind why his brother kept painting the same thing, he could only guess it had something to do with her.

So in the guise of the servants burning them, he had given them out. Distributed them to people who ran in the same circles as the Belmonts. Each painting was a possible breadcrumb that could guide her back.

Because even though he had stopped his brother’s corruption, there was no telling when it would let loose. Corruption never disappeared. Everything needed an anchor and Ruelle was Lucian’s.

But who knew that Harold Belmont had changed his circles to the point he would never return to the same circles, Dane clicked his tongue.

"By the way, have you thought about what to get Lucian?" Dane asked her.

"Like a betrothal gift?" Ruelle asked him.

A chuckle escaped from his lips, and he replied, "I suppose I ought to get you a betrothal gift as well. But no, that’s not what I meant. It is his birthday in three days."

Ruelle looked surprised, as Lucian and she hadn’t ever touched those subjects. With how secretive he was, it had been a no-go area.

"Thank you for sharing it with me, Brother Dane," because if he didn’t mention it, she would have never known unless someone decided to wish Lucian out loud. "I have time to think of something he might want."

She wondered what she could gift him. Things that wouldn’t compare to others. Her blood? Though he had tasted her blood, he had never fed from her.

Or maybe she could cook something for him, she thought to herself. But would that be too simple?

"You don’t have to come up with a gift right away. There’s plenty of time and we will be going out to town tomorrow," Dane remarked on noticing her think hard. Then after a pause, he added, "You can just buy a ribbon."

"To wrap the gift? Let us visit the shop then," Ruelle agreed.

Dane only smiled at her words, letting the teasing pass this time. How innocent, he thought, and when he turned his head, he caught the look of hostility on the minister’s assistant’s face. He commented,

"It feels like I am being disapproved of by a parent now."

Ruelle turned to see what he was talking about. As if wanting to include the woman in their conversation, she asked, "Miss Peyton, have you tried to paint?"

"No. It serves no purpose for people like me," Peyton replied.

Ruelle paused for a moment before giving a small nod. She replied, "I suppose not," she said gently and just then her stomach lightly growled. "Ha ha." She had completely forgotten about eating as she had woken up quite late and had rushed to the main hall.

Dane asked, "Did you not eat before leaving Sexton? Let me ask the servant to cook you something quick."

"That’s fine." Ruelle shook her head. She offered a smile and responded, "Lunch isn’t far and I would like to eat with everyone."

She had just finished speaking when the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor. She turned in the direction of the door and soon Lucian appeared at the door, his eyes immediately finding hers.

"Where is Father? I need to talk to him about something," Dane murmured, even though he was already headed towards the door.

"He just left for the courthouse," Lucian answered, before noticing the painting Ruelle stood in front of.

"Oh, well. I guess I will go take a nap then," Dane said, and walked away from there.

Lucian then spoke to Ruelle, "The food has already been prepared and is being set in the back garden." He then turned to the minister’s assistant and stated, "I prefer not to have anything buzzing about when I have Ruelle’s time. It tends to be crushed. You may observe from the first-floor balconies."