𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter thirty-five; A New Place At Court
"We are only trying to repay you for all you've done for us."

  IT TOOK A shocking amount of convincing from Catherine De Medici for Elspeth Liens to leave her chambers.

  After the queen had Elspeth bathed and fed, and persuaded her the entire time, they set out arm in arm to the only respite in the castle.

  "I am glad to see it's getting used."

  Elspeth smiled weakly as they entered the familiar art wing, piled high with art and supplies. Catherine helped Elspeth tie her apron on before meandering the canvases.

  "You finished it."

  Catherine's face turned into a fond smile as she stumbled upon a large portrait of herself.

  It was unlike any other that existed. It was not created out of need, the brush strokes were not full of worry if the Queen herself would like it or not. The painting did not reflect the De Medici or the Queen or the parts of Catherine that she counted most important.

  She looked kind.

  In the portrait, she looked like a mother. With half of her curls falling down, a crown still resting on her head, but a light in her eyes. A warmth in her smile. Color on her cheeks.

  "I am glad it won't be used," Elspeth admitted, "I wish my only portrait of you was not created for your funeral."

  "I'll take it."

  "It's not for sale," Elspeth breathed out a laugh, turning back to her blank canvas, "None of them are."

  "Not even to me?" Catherine questioned, clasping her hands together.

  "You may have it, as a gift," Elspeth said, dolloping paint colors onto a palette, "But I do not need to be paid for it."

  "Why not?"

  "I have more money than I know what to do with," Elspeth said, dipping her brush into the first color, "I always have. Never wanted for a thing. I want for nothing now. Especially with the constant flow of gifts from Demetre."

  Catherine raised a brow, approaching the girl.

  "I had noticed that."

  "You had?" Elspeth questioned, turning to the queen briefly, "He's kinder than he lets on. I made one comment about Parisian dresses. If he keeps sending them, I'll need an extra room just for my clothing."

  "Has he come to see you?"

  Elspeth faltered with her brushstroke but quickly steeled herself.

  "Not since that night. I suppose he's busy."

  "You miss him."

  "I. . ." Elspeth began to argue but faltered. The girl sighed, glancing to Catherine who had a smug smile, "Whatever you are thinking it is wrong."

  "Oh?"

  "Demetre is too important to me to become something that can be. . . taken away at a whim," Elspeth blew out, "He is my friend. A dear friend. . . He is. . ."

  Elspeth searched for the word but fell short.

  What was Demetre?

  To call him a friend felt like an insult. It sat uncomfortably on her lips when she'd said it, but no other title seemed enough.

  He had been a friend. A confidant. He'd been the one to hold her up, to shield her. But he had also been the one to push her. To remind her. Demetre had done more than her friends. He had been there, always. Seen through every lie, every time she tried to keep him at arm's length he simply reminded her how much closer he had become.

  "Whatever he is, it's not what you think," Elspeth finally mumbled, "I know when I have feelings for a man."

  "Oh, is that so?"

  "It is," Elspeth argued, "I knew with the boys in Scotland. And I knew with Sebastian, but he was different."

  Catherine pursed her lips as Elspeth's movements slowed again.

  "Your first love will always be the hardest."

  Elspeth let out a dry laugh, nodding.

  "But it does not have to be the last."

  "Maybe he won't be, but I can't think about that right now," Elspeth said, turning to Catherine fully, "It is still too fresh a wound. Thinking about Sebastian married to another. Walking with another. Being with another. . . I have to let go of him. Of the future, we dreamt of. I have to, for Kenna, for him, for myself. . . I cannot go through this again. I won't. I won't beg for an annulment. I won't ask that. I don't want to. We have fought to be married, and we failed. I don't want to fight anymore. I am tired, Catherine."

  The tears had started again, and Catherine so desperately wished she'd chosen a gentler approach today.

  "I do not want to be engaged if it is something that can be taken away so easily," Elspeth continued, "I do not blame Sebastian, I harbor no anger at him-- but the point stands. . . if he is something that can be taken away, stolen at a moment's notice. . . I do not want him."

  The last words fought as she said them. Only because they were a truth she had hardly been able to process yet.

  Elspeth knew it was the way she felt. But that did not change that it hurt.

  Because she wanted him. She wanted Sebastian.

  If he was not a pawn to his father, if he was perhaps less caring for others, if he had been able to overlook whatever was in the Blood Wood and run with her to Scotland. If he had the freedom or will to fight the arrangements he'd been forced into.

  But he was. He was a pawn, he was too caring, he was unable to overlook. He did not have the freedom nor the will.

  So she did not want him.

  "I don't want to paint," Elspeth whispered thickly.

  Catherine only nodded, gently untying the apron from Elspeth's waist.

  "Then we shall rest," Catherine said quietly, "Perhaps read."

  Elspeth said nothing, simply allowing Catherine to wrap an arm around her, matching the queen's slow stride.

  Her mind was reeling, too many questions, too many concerns.

  It was so silent in the castle.

  Until it wasn't.

  "Ellie!"

  "Not now, Kenna," Catherine bit, gently rubbing Elspeth's back as they continued their stride.

  "I wasn't talking to you," Kenna fired back.

  "And I doubt your husband's ex-fiancee wants a word with you right now," Catherine informed, somehow holding Elspeth tighter as if protecting her physically, "Let her breathe."

  Kenna's face melted into a frown as Elspeth simply allowed Catherine to continue guiding her down the corridor, for the first time in her entire life, not fighting back against someone speaking for her.

  But Elspeth was too tired. She was hardly there at all, and she feared if she came back it would only be sadness or anger.

  "Kenna?"

  "Hello," The girl greeted Sebastian sadly, mustering a false smile, "I fear you're right."

  "Right about what?"

  "That we've both lost her," Kenna blinked back tears and forced out a false laugh, "Catherine's fawning over her-- it's the strangest thing I've ever seen."

  "As wrong as it sounds, I'm grateful for Catherine," Sebastian sighed, "Elspeth needs support right now, and she'll refuse it from either of us. . . I wouldn't be surprised if she thinks it's better to let it rest."

  And, of course, Sebastian was right. Because he knew Elspeth, his girl, his love. He knew her mind as well as her heart, he knew her soul and body. But how terrible it was that he could do nothing for her.

  "But we can't," Kenna argued instantly, "I've known Elspeth my entire life and she's never once spoken of marriage until she met you-- we have to-- we have to fix this for her."

  "I know, but if she doesn't wish for--"

  "She's hurt, her future just got ripped away from her again," Kenna nearly shouted, "Come to think of it, why didn't the two of you reach Scotland?"

  Sebastian blinked, the monster of guilt rearing its ugly head.

  "We found Olivia DeMeancourt. I wanted to help rid whatever is haunting the Blood Wood."

  "And that was more important than marrying Ellie?" Kenna scoffed, "Maybe your engagement being broken is best."

  Sebastian could not bury his shock.

  "She spoke so highly of you," Kenna said quietly, "I wonder where that man went."

  "I did not choose to break out engagement, this time or last--"

  "She defied a king for you," Kenna bit, "She argued with him in front of royals and nobles. She was ready to accept the title of mistress, something both of us know would have suited her poorly. Elspeth, the daughter of a Duke, spent months on the road, running, starving, freezing, because it meant getting to marry you. What have you done?"

  "I love her!"

  "Maybe that isn't enough, then."

  Sebastian fell silent, his own heart climbing to his throat as Kenna stared at him unflinchingly.

  "I would give everything for her."

  "But you didn't."

↬

  "Tell Demetre I request his presence urgently," Catherine told a handmaid, who took off almost instantly.

  "No, please," Elspeth breathed out tiredly, "I can't see anyone."

  "Demetre is not 'anyone', child," Catherine spoke gently, holding onto Elspeth's fragile hands, "I am not blind to how close you two have been since your arrival. And, though you may not wish for it, you need help mending your heart. Your queen could do nothing about the marriage, your scots have not come searching for you, save for Kenna. So let France help you, Elspeth. Let me help you, let Demetre help you."

  Demetre Langlois raced down castle corridors, knocking into every person who dared stand in his path. The servant Catherine had sent only got out one meek word before the man brushed her off, informing he'd already known about the summons.

  Sebastian De Poitiers watched from a side corridor, his own heart aching at the sight of another man— his friend— rush to Elspeth.

  He knew without words where his destination was, for Sebastian had never been blind, and he was engulfed in anger and jealousy and guilt, perhaps most of all, heartache.

  "Elspeth?"

  Elspeth's tears came in another crashing wave as Demetre rushed in, hair ruffled and breath quick. He didn't hesitate to hurry to the woman, collapsing to his knees before her.

  "You have to breathe, Petal."

  His hands were what brought her back down to earth, rough callouses against the soft skin of her face, his eyes boring into her own.

  "Are you with me?"

  She nodded after taking a deep breath, rivers of tears still flowing.

  "I'm sorry I haven't been around," He said quietly, "I was tied up with a few things, but that's no excuse, not right now."

  "Don't apologize," Elspeth whispered, shaking her head.

  "Let me," Demetre said, his voice turning stern as Elspeth met his eyes, "I am sorry. I should have been here, and I wasn't. Everything else could have waited-- I am still learning, I wish I wasn't, but I am. I will regret my choice of priority. I hope you believe that if nothing else."

  Elspeth nodded, unable to form a single word in response.

  "We have to sort this out," He informed letting go of Elspeth's face as he stood, turning to Catherine sternly, "The King is sick— he's ill. An annulment wouldn't be a question at this point, and with a quick enough wedding, the names of you two wouldn't be tarnished—"

  "Elspeth does not wish for an annulment."

  Demetre felt his heart stop in his chest.

  "Is that true, Petal?"

  "Yes," She let out pitifully, rubbing her forehead, "If there's an annulment, Kenna's name is ruined. It's already ruined, but I know she's safe, she's safe with him and, and he'll take care of her—"

  "What about you?"

  Elspeth bit her lip harshly, attempting to hold back the lump in her throat.

  "I don't want something that can be taken away. Not to mention, I can take care of myself," She finally spoke, shoving the bursting emotion back down into her stomach, "I've a title, riches— I will have no trouble courting a man that would make all of this trouble disappear for my family."

  And Demetre cast a look to Catherine, who only raised an eyebrow in response.

  "But, Petal. . ." He said quietly, "You—"

  Elspeth gasped, covering her mouth.

  "What?" Catherine questioned, furrowing her brows.

  "I've no place at court," Elspeth realized, looking up, "I am not engaged to the King's son, I am no longer a lady in waiting to-- I-- I can't go back to being Mary's lady after--"

  "Nonsense."

  Elspeth paused her ranting, attempting to settle her rapid breathing at Demetre's voice.

  "Demetre, I cannot bring myself to return to duties as Mary's lady-- and I will not have Catherine face any whispers for simply housing me in the castle after today-- I'm a French subject, I could go to Douglas, but--"

  "Which is why you will not stay in the castle as a guest to the King and Queen if Henry would even allow that," Demetre muttered distastefully, "You will have to move bedchambers to make this seem more realistic, so you will now reside in the East wing of the castle."

  "Closer to you?" Elspeth questioned with furrowed brows, "But--"

  "You, Petal, will reside in the French castle until further notice as a guest to the House of Langlois," Demetre smiled, a sparkle glimmering in his eyes, "A house nearly as old as France itself, one that has the freedom to make decisions such as this. The name alongside my hunting of the Grim will set to rest any rumors or arguments before they begin. Henry himself wouldn't dare question it."

  "But, Demetre--"

  "It was no trouble," He eased her worries, taking a seat in the large armchair, flashing a wildly grinning Catherine a small smile, "You may tell whoever whatever you wish. I have a debt to your parents, my family owes you-- or that we're simply friends. Whatever story you choose to weave, I will sponsor you until. . . you wish to leave. For however long you wish, you are now Elspeth Liens of the House of Langlois."

  And Elspeth Liens of the House of Langlois wasn't quite sure words could express her gratitude to Demetre. Even though in the eyes of everyone further away, Elspeth had nothing to stay for, she just wasn't quite ready to leave her life in France yet.

  So for lack of words, Elspeth quickly crossed the room and pulled Demetre into a tight hug. He was shocked by the action after their argument days prior but found himself relaxed at the feeling of her in his arms.

  "I'll have servants prepare your chambers," Catherine spoke, unable to hide her smile as she stood, "They'll be ready for you by dusk."

  "Thank you," Elspeth said quietly, "Thank you both for everything you've done for me."

  "There is no need to thank us, Elspeth," Demetre said, his voice just above a whisper, "We are only trying to repay you for all you've done for us."

  And for a brief moment, Elspeth felt the hole in her heart shrink just a little. As if it was filled by this moment, by being here with them. She was a little lighter, less worn down. For a glimpse, Elspeth could see it. Her future. Her happiness.

  "Lady Elspeth," Her servant spoke up, "I apologize, but—"

  "Ellie!"

  She squeezed her eyes shut. The world returned, the reality of it all. This was not a dream, no, it had only ever been a nightmare.

  "Sebastian De Poitiers is outside and—"

  "Just let me in, she is— was— to be my wife!"

  Demetre gave Elspeth a soft questioning look, waiting for her decision.

  "Please tell Sebastian I don't wish to speak with him at the moment," Elspeth said gently to the servant, who nodded in response.

  Though, Sebastian was not leaving.

  He was arguing with the servant at the door, his voice reaching past and cracking Elspeth's heart with every syllable. She couldn't take it, not now, not yet-- one day she hoped she could see him again. Hear him without hearing heartache, but now-- now, Elspeth needed to be on her own. She needed to let him go, to let it rest.

  "Do you want him to leave?"

  Elspeth nodded to a stern Demetre, who turned stony-faced as he stood tall. The man's demeanor changed as if a switch had been flipped, crossing the room in no more than three steps of his heavy black boots, gently nodding his head for the servant girl to move aside.

  And face to face he stood with Sebastian De Poitiers. Demetre made the move of lifting his chin, exaggerating the height difference between the two just so, peering down his nose at the man.

  "Lady Elspeth does not wish to speak with you," Demetre spoke evenly, "Goodnight, Sebastian."

  Sebastian's face spelled betrayal at the voice.

  "Demetre?"

  "I'm asking you to leave," He said, raising a brow, "I won't ask again."

  "Are you going to fight me, Langlois?"

  "I will remove you by force if need be," Demetre spoke, the corner of his lip tugging up into a smirk, "We both know there would be no fair fight between us, Sebastian."

  And the rage grew inside Sebastian De Poitiers, for this was one truth he could not dispute.

  Demetre was stronger, he was taller and older and more perceptive, more attentive. He remembered everything Sebastian had ever missed in their spars, every weak spot and misstep.

  Sebastian would lose before he took the first swing.

  "I'd like to speak with her tomorrow," Sebastian said evenly, despite himself, "I still intend to marry her."

  "Well," Demetre sucked his teeth, "You are a taken man, Sebastian."

  Sebastian recoiled as if Demetre had reached out and hit him.

  "Don't do this."

  "Don't disregard her wishes for your own," Demetre bit, "Leave while I let you."

  Sebastian blinked, taking a step back.

  And without a second glance, Demetre shut the door, leaving Sebastian De Poitiers in the stony halls of the castle alone.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
A very sad happy chapter <3
the best trio really is catherine,
demetre, and ellie