𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter sixty; First Priority
" He's only a man. "

  ELSPETH LIENS WAS the first person Lola called upon once she received a letter from her family. Partially because Elspeth was the most independent woman Lola knew, and thus must have some shred of advice. And partially because she knew Elspeth would comfort her.

  "No one will let anything ill become of you," Elspeth said gently, "I know you feel as though you are drifting away from everything secure, but it's not the case."

  "My family's disowned me. Francis and Mary have been distant. I only ever catch you and Kenna on rare occasions."

  "Imagine how I felt when all of you were married or courting and I was a single woman once again," Elspeth said sympathetically, rubbing Lola's back, "I know how it feels, Lola. But I want to remind you that you're never truly alone. . . On the subject of funds, I cannot help you acquire an account of your own, for even I haven't discovered a loophole yet."

  Lola frowned.

  "But," Elspeth urged, "Material funds are not under the same tense laws. These things can be hidden. And I happen to know a rather smart man who may have some strings to pull in way of assisting you."

  "I don't know what I'd do without you," Lola sighed, resting her head on Elspeth's shoulder.

  "You would figure it out, still," Elspeth said gently, "I know you would."

  And then perhaps the worst sight Elspeth could have seen.

  Narcisse wandered over with his eyes on Lola.

  "Lady Lola," He greeted, "My sympathies. On the matter of your dowry."

  "How did you know about that?" Lola questioned, sitting up as Narcisse took the empty seat beside her.

  "I'm--"

  "The largest depositor in that bank."

  Narcisse's gaze slid from Lola to Elspeth as she spoke.

  "Yes," He confirmed, "I dine with the bankers often. They're very good company. Fingers in every pie, full of gossip, and very eager to keep my happy. There's still time, I could use my influence on your behalf."

  "In return for. . ?"

  "Tea."

  "Tea."

  "And the pleasure of your company. I have extended the invitation before."

  "Thank you, but I'm not sure it's a good idea."

  "Well, I would never want to press a lady."

  "How entirely strange that you seem to have that sentiment with Lola only," Elspeth muttered.

  Narcisse gave her a tense smile.

  "Lady Elspeth. You and Demetre are to set out for Scotland, are you not? Enjoy your time away from France."

  Elspeth bit back a sneer, clenching her jaw until Narcisse departed entirely.

  "Just be careful, Lola," Elspeth said, turning back to the woman. "I'd hate to see you become a pawn in his cruel games."

  Lola only nodded, letting Elspeth squeeze her hand.

  ↬

Despite their preparations to depart for Scotland, Elspeth needed to deal with one matter. She hadn't forgotten Narcisse's words from the night prior, and his confidence today only angered her further.

  Elspeth barged into the office, the door slamming against the wall as she tore straight up to a large desk Demetre was currently sitting behind.

  He was already stressed, elbows resting atop a mess of papers, his head in his hands, fingers tugging his curls out of their tight pattern, and when Elspeth arrived in her fiery nature he only glanced up with tired eyes.

  "Those men were pardoned."

  "They were."

  "They murdered a boy, attacked a dozen unarmed men, burned a building, and they were pardoned."

  Demetre glanced down at his papers, before letting out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

  "I understand the circumstances, Petal."

  "Then perhaps you can help me understand why their crimes will go unpunished while a child's family has to grieve the loss of a young life," Elspeth all but spat, her hands tightly gripping the skirt of her dress as if she would lunge at him otherwise, "Because I know you would never agree to such a thing, and yet the King you advise did."

  He glanced back up at her, and perhaps only then realized her anger was not directed at him. She was simply angry. At the failure of justice being delivered, at the open grief of her friend, and the unfair pardon murderers were given when her own friend had almost been killed for a crime that was not his own mere weeks prior.

  Briefly, Demetre felt a wave of guilt hit him at the idea. Elspeth had been angry with him before and she would likely be angry with him again, but he regretted even for a moment believing she would think he was part of the choice to pardon those Catholic men.

  Because Demetre still saw himself as the villain. But he should have known by now that Elspeth would never view him through the same lens society did.

  "Just because I am his advisor does not mean I control Francis or his choices in any situation," Demetre admitted, standing from his seat, "This is one he made on his own."

  "He wouldn't stand for it either—"

  "Petal—"

  "No, I know Francis and—"

  "Perhaps not as well as you thought."

  She recoiled as if Demetre had reached across the desk and slapped her.

  His pain was as clear as her own. His regret shone through tired eyes when Elspeth tightened her jaw, turning the other cheek.

  "He would not make that choice willingly. So what is it that I haven't been told?"

  "Something that is only hidden from you for your protection."

  Elspeth turned back to him fully, her tense posture relaxing just slightly.

  "Tell me."

  "Elle—"

  "No, tell me. Because it sounds as though you're involved somehow," She said, taking a step closer, placing both hands on his desk and leaning over, "And if I am to be your wife I deserve to know."

  His eyes were a little wild, a little scared, and a little haunted. He stood towering over her both in frame and height, and yet Elspeth Liens was the one staring stronger.

  Demetre figured if he didn't say it outright Elspeth would be able to read his thoughts any moment now.

  "It is a weight you will carry. I can share it with you, as Francis and I share it, but he can never know you know. Neither can Kenna, nor Louis or Mary. Not a soul, Elspeth."

  "I understand."

  He pursed his lips, glancing back down at his mess of a desk for a long moment.

  And then he met her eyes again.

  "It wasn't Lord Montgomery that rode against Henry in the joust. It wasn't an accident that the lance hit the single weak spot in his helmet. And it was not a surprise that the injury killed him."

  Elspeth's skin paled slightly. She let out a shallow breath, her hands leaving the desk slowly as she sunk into one of the two armchairs positioned across it.

  Demetre said nothing. He took his seat as well.

  "It was Francis?"

  He nodded once grimly.

  "And you knew after? Or. . ."

  Demetre studied her for a moment. How she attempted to digest the horror. The idea of a son killing his father. The idea of a good man committing a heinous act to stop a bad man.

  Elspeth did not feel grief for Henry Valois's murder. She did not pity the man in his last days, or even now. She never had. He was cruel and mad and pushed people around like pawns on a chessboard; it did not help his case that one of his favorite pieces had been Kenna.

  Still, the idea was difficult for her to swallow. A girl who, up until her time in France, had never realized the true extent of her sheltering.

  But Demetre had grown into it. He learned to read while he learned to mix poisons. Taught to kill as he was taught to write. He had never known life without cruelty; at his hands, or others.

  "Catherine, Mary, and I discovered Henry's plan was to poison Francis and wed Mary. He wanted France, Scotland, and England. . . I rode out to find Francis, who had left to speak with Generals for a coup. . . It was then we spoke of the idea. One the two of us alone would carry out."

  Elspeth sucked in a breath as he spoke.

  "Francis refused for me to take Montgomery's place."

  ". . . Why?"

  "For you."

  Elspeth furrowed her brows.

  "He thought if I were to take Henry's life that I would've locked myself in this wing for the rest of my days," Demetre said quietly, "That the man who threw me into the woods would be the last tally in my book of lives taken, and I would never be able to come back from it. Never be able to believe I was a man deserving of life, let alone love or peace. . . He might've been right. I'll never quite know now."

  Demetre averted his eyes as his heart ached, as if telling him it was still there.

  "Narcisse hired an actor," Demetre continued, strengthening his voice, "A nanny, to act as though she was occasionally possessed by Henry's spirit. . . He 'overheard' a rather tense conversation between the two where Francis finally admitted. . ."

  "And now he's backed Francis into a corner. And he will continue to."

  Demetre nodded again, finally looking back at her.

  And very briefly he thought about going straight to Narcisse's chambers and slaughtering him. Damn the deals and decorum, damn the repercussions of it all.

  Controlling Francis had set him on edge.

  But seeing Elspeth Liens sink further into her chair with a cloud of defeat around her lit Demetre Langlois on fire.

  "We cannot do anything, can we?" She said, her voice quiet, "For risk of that coming to light."

  Demetre could only nod. His throat was too tight. He was too tense. His hand was gripping the arm of his chair and he swore he heard the wood beginning to groan in pain.

  "Then we will do the only thing we can," She said after a moment, "Moving forward we will protect those close to us. We will try to halt Narcisse from any further damage. He will do no more harm, or he will face judgment."

  "Petal. . ."

  "You may have restrictions, because of your position and your involvement," Elspeth said, "But I'm a simple noblewoman. Unaware entirely of politics. A girl who dreams only of marriage and paintings, who just so happens to have very loud opinions and a track record of little tact."

  She offered him a soft smile as she stood.

  "Narcisse may have something over Francis. But if I know one thing for certain, it is that he underestimates me."

  "You don't fear him?"

  "Why would I? He's only a man."

  Demetre stared at her in awe and shock.

  "I also know you. And I am smart enough to realize few people want to make a true enemy of House Langlois," She said quietly, "That grants me a level of immunity few women have."

  Elspeth took a step toward the desk again, leaning over only to grab one of his hands in both of hers.

  "We are in this as we are in all things from now on. Together. I want to get justice for Emile because he was innocent and Louis is my friend. I want to free Francis from his threats from Narcisse because he is a good man and deserves to be the king of king he wants to be. . . I want things to be fair and just. I want our friends to be safe," She spoke in an even and soft tone, her eyes never leaving him, "But I will not lose you for it, Demetre. You are my first priority. And if the day ever comes when it is safer for us to start anew, then we shall. Because I love you. And I will not risk losing you."

  Elspeth knew how hypocritical it was to prioritize saving friends and slaying monsters when it had been that very same belief system that had caused her and Sebastian to be ripped apart. Too many heroics with very little selfishness left them giving each part of themselves to everyone else, pushing off even their wedding in favor of heroism.

  This is why she would not make that mistake with Demetre.

  Elspeth loved her friends dearly. She loved Francis Kenna and Greer. She loved Sebastian Lola and Catherine. Elspeth knew even if it was deeper, she still loved Mary Stuart. If she could, Elspeth would've set every one of them free of the ties binding them to that castle. Saved each one from themselves and each other, gave Louis justice for his nephew, and banished Narcisse far away from France.

  But she couldn't. Elspeth was not a queen or a king or an advisor. She was not a politician or a diplomat. She was a Scottish girl in France, a high-born noble with loose manners and a wild streak.

  She would do what she could for her friends. Push when she had room, and pull when she had strength. Elspeth would offer advice and comfort, empathy if nothing else.

  But she would not give herself so much so that she lost sight of the one person who had been at her side regardless of right or wrong. The person she had perhaps lived longer than she knew.

  Elspeth would never lose sight of her constant. She refused.

  "You will never lose me, Petal."

  Her expression softened as Demetre rounded the desk, his hands leaving hers only to cup her face tenderly.

  "I told you once I would forsake my country for you," He whispered, "If the day comes when I learn it is safer elsewhere for us, with your blessing, then we shall leave."

  "You have my blessing."

  "I'll ask for it again."

  "Don't."

  Demetre frowned slightly, running a thumb over her cheek as she smiled up at him.
  
  "I won't go far enough that it'll be any danger, I won't break my promise to you," Elspeth said softly, "But I will do what I can."

  Demetre brought her forehead to his own, closing his eyes in brief peace.

  Together was still such a foreign concept to Demetre. But he was beginning to understand what it meant.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
Elspeth's nemesis being Narcisse
is so funny to me I'm SORRY
but just how much she viscerally
hates him is amazing IMO