𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter thirty-two; Guarded
" You are never leaving my sight again. "

  ELSPETH WAS GETTING rather good at assisting Nostradamus. She had even begun learning a thing or two about tending wounds, and the man said her gentle bedside manner needed no perfecting.

  "I'll return shortly, and I'll knock three times so you know it is me," Nostradamus said for the third time, "No one should enter, and if they do--"

  "Shut myself upstairs and don't come out until you return," Elspeth completed his sentence with a small smile, "I promise."

  Nostradamus nodded, glancing between both her and Olivia before departing to gather meals for both of the girls.

  Elspeth gave him a reassuring smile, taking a seat beside Olivia's sleeping figure. The girl began her ritual, though this time without the assistance of Nostradamus. She checked each bandage, ensuring the wounds were still clean and covered in the correct healing mixtures were applied.

  The girl sat back after her work was finished, cleaning the workspace after herself and watching Olivia's calm breathing.

  Nostradamus had to be back soon, and Elspeth was preparing to read one of his many books on remedies to illness when she heard the door crack open.

  Elspeth scurried quietly upstairs to where Nostradamus's chambers were, shutting the door gently behind herself and holding her breath as she leaned against the wood.

  She couldn't hear anything for a long while. Only the beating of her own heart filled her ears.

  Until she heard a thud.  

  Elspeth froze. She wasn't sure how long she remained there, barricading the door with her own body until every joint ached.

  The only thing that made her move was a gentle knock and Nostradamus's voice.

  "What happened, is Olivia okay--?" Elspeth rushed out as soon as she tore the door open.

  "Olivia is fine," Nostradamus said, clearly shaken, "Remain here. I will retrieve you shortly; Elspeth, I do not think it is safe for you to remain here while Olivia is in this state."

  Elspeth furrowed her brows, attempting to peer around the man, but Nostradamus shifted with her, purposely blocking her view.

  "Where else am I to go?" Elspeth said sadly, looking back to him.

  Nostradamus sighed, thinking it over for a long moment.

  "Olivia will remain downstairs," He said, "I'll have you stay in this room until Sebastian returns. But I must take precautions; you are not to interact with her unless I am present. It is for your safety, Elspeth Liens."

  "Okay."

  "I will be absent more; Catherine has requested me for a task," Nostradamus continued, "It makes me uneasy leaving you unguarded."

  "I'll hide in here, just like I did last time."

  "It would be best if no one entered at all," Nostradamus said quietly, "I want to station someone here to keep others out in my absence. Someone who can be seen, and trusted."

  "Nostradamus, King Henry tried to have Sebastian and I killed, I can hardly--"

  "Demetre Langlois only has loyalty to his own house and those he deems worthy of it. He has deemed you worthy of it."

  Elspeth's mouth ran dry.

  "He will ensure both you and Olivia stay hidden, and no one will question him," Nostradamus said.

  "We have remained hidden so far, I hardly understand why you believe we need a--"

  Nostradamus seemed unsure as he stepped aside, but he knew it would take more words than he had to convince Elspeth Liens.

  So he allowed her to see the scene behind him.

  Olivia had blood staining her hands, though she had fallen back into slumber; and a body lay on the ground beside her bed, a priest, stabbed to death with his own crucifix.

  Elspeth lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, stepping back and turning to Nostradamus.

  "She is unwell, and not in her right mind. I hardly think she was in control of what happened," Nostradamus said gently, "But I cannot risk your safety, Elspeth. Do you understand?"

  She nodded hesitantly, Nostradamus stepped back, starting downstairs as she shut the door.

  Elspeth leaned against the wall, sliding to the ground once again.

↬

  It was a matter of minutes before Elspeth heard footsteps rushing the staircase. She stood quickly, brushing the skirt of her dress smooth and wringing her hands together.

  Would he be angry? Disappointed? Would he greet her with the same cold tone he'd used to say goodbye?

  She turned to the door as it opened, and the breath from her lungs was stolen.

  Demetre Langlois pushed the door open, his hair was an unruly bed of curls, and bags of faint purple hung beneath his eyes. His breathing was rapid as if he'd run the entire length of the castle to get to her, and with his hunting attire clinging to his frame, Elspeth did not doubt he had.

  His eyes found her in an instant, a breath hardly leaving his lips as he crossed the room in quick wide steps before gathering Elspeth Liens in his arms.

  Elspeth was shocked into silence as she was enveloped into his frame, his arms and cloak encasing her, Demetre's chin rested on her head, and she could feel him relax as she lifted her arms to hug him back.

  "Petal. . ."

  He wanted to say something. Anything. To ask where she had been, what happened, why they hadn't reached Scotland, why she was in the castle, hiding in the infirmary without Sebastian at her side. Demetre wanted to be angry, more so at Sebastian than anyone, minimally for leaving her alone like this.

  But his emotions were swirling together, everything formed a lump in his throat, and all he could think about was that Elspeth Liens was alive. She was alive and in his arms, and Demetre held her tighter because he had not slept, his heart had not rested, and his temper twisted with concern hadn't settled since Francis had told him the news a week ago.

  Demetre breathed, letting his eyes close as he selfishly let himself feel, just this once.

  He pulled back, his hands gently cradling her jaw, fingers knitting in her hair as he tilted her face up so he could see it.

  Her skin was void of any makeup, and it lacked the natural glow it normally held. Demetre noted the hollowness to her cheeks, attempting to keep his own anger at bay as he realized it was from a lack of normal nutrition over the past three months. Her hair was loose, not in a normal braided or pinned style, simply falling in waves that protested against one another; Demetre wondered if this was how it fell naturally, without the heat or styling she normally applied. He wondered why she did not let it fall this wildly normally; it reflected her heart better.

  But Demetre seemed to forget about that when he saw silent tears staining her cheeks, Elspeth's eyes had lost their light but they searched his just the same as they always did, boring right through any attempt of shield he ever had.

  Today there was nothing. No shield, no armor; he was not hiding.

  "You are never leaving my sight again."

  His voice was not hard and cold at all, Elspeth thought. It was gentle, warm-- it reached out and cradled the parts of her that had been trampled on for the past two months. His hands, warm and calloused, brought her back to reality, his thumbs gently swiping the tears on her face.

  Elspeth breathed in deeply, never breaking their eye contact, attempting to calm her mind and steady her heart. His familiar scent soothed her; he smelled faintly of the woods, of hunting, but overpowering this was the mixture of cinnamon, clove, and orange. Many men strayed from heavy fragrances, but Demetre had told Elspeth once he'd been wearing the scent since he was a child.

  And now it brought her comfort. Familiarity and warmth.

  "Okay," Elspeth agreed in a breath.

  Demetre pinched his brows in concern, the corner of his lip turning down as he ran a gentle thumb across her cheek.

  "I am so sorry, my Little Petal," He said quietly, "My own pride stood in the way. Catherine tried to warn me of your not reaching Scotland earlier, but I. . . was too stubborn to hear her."

  "What do you mean?" Elspeth questioned, furrowing her own brows.

  He could say it. Tell her everything. That he was too stubborn, thinking Catherine brought news of her marriage to another. That he was jealous, even though he knew he had no right to be. That he couldn't bear thinking about her being wed any more than he already had, and he was so foolish to let his own emotions get in the way.

  "Where is Sebastian?" Demetre questioned gently.

  Elspeth frowned, lifting her own hands to hold the man's wrists. She took his hands in her own, stepping back and leaving a harsh cold between them, though her hands remained in his.

  And then she explained everything.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
I just know most of y'all 
read this chapter like
YEAH WE BEEN WAITIN
FOR THIS ONEE
when demetre and elle
are still just friends <3
LOL not making fun of 
y'all, that's literally how I
felt writing this HAHA