𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄. chapter fifty-three; Friends and Foes " I wonder how you will pay for this. "
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ELSPETH FELT LIGHTER when they returned to the castle. Not that anything had truly been solved; her brother was still gone, there was much to do in terms of she and Demetre's un-official courtship, and she needed to apologize to Lola for not formally meeting her child yet, but a part of her felt as though she could handle it.
Maybe not well, maybe not the way someone like her mother would be able to, with grace and ease; but she could do it.
Until she caught wind from Alex Dupont that Nostradamus was sitting in a cell with a death sentence hanging over his head. Imprisoned and sentenced to death for the murder of a Lord's son.
"Petal, I'll speak with--"
"No, he will be facing the both of us," Elspeth argued with a fixed glare, "Nostradamus of all people--!"
"I hardly think it was a choice Francis made willingly," Demetre attempted to soothe, "Lord Narcisse is involved--"
"I don't even know who that is, so clearly he can't be that important."
Demetre attempted to stifle a laugh, but Elspeth heard it clearly and whirled on him, pointing an accusatory finger.
"I am not joking!'"
"I know, Petal," Demetre said easily, "Come, let us find Francis together, then."
Elspeth took off at that. Demetre hurried to match her pace, but she was tearing through the halls like a bat out of hell.
He knew her heart was too large for her own body, and Nostradamus had been lucky enough to become someone she cared for, but Demetre had not expected her to react so blazingly to the news.
Demetre's heart jumped as he spotted Francis already speaking with Narcisse, and Elspeth barreling toward them. He wanted to pause time, to grab Elspeth and take her far, far away from the situation; she had been relatively easy to protect thus far. All he really had to keep her away from was Henry and the Blood Wood.
But with more nobles coming out of the woodwork, Demetre knew he would be put to the test.
"Francis!"
Demetre winced as both men turned to her in shock.
"How dare you!"
Francis said nothing as Elspeth marched straight up to him and shouted. She was shorter than him, and wearing one of her lovely Parisian gowns, but had had never seen a person look so murderous. Save for, perhaps, his mother.
"Elspeth only means to inquire about Nostradamus," Demetre said quickly, joining her side.
"I do not," She argued, her brow pinched in anger, "I mean to say "how dare you"!"
