𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄. chapter six; Beyond The Blood Wood " I find no enjoyment in coyly avoiding the truth. "
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THERE WAS A CERTAIN heaviness surrounding the castle the remainder of the day. Another attempt had been made— though, this time it was on Mary's life. A dress of hers had been poisoned, saved only by a maid who'd tried it on before her.
And the part that set her most on edge, was that when she and her fellow Scottish friends talked to every servant and guard possible they all said the same thing.
"No one posted outside any of our doors or in that corridor saw someone leave your room with a body or a dying girl."
"And they would have."
"They must have used the passageway."
"What. . . passageway?"
Mary quickly caught Elspeth up on the stone passageways Francis said ran through the castle, connecting old sectors to new ones. Though, no one used these anymore.
No one except for, perhaps, whoever would do anything to keep Mary from wedding Francis, and not becoming the queen of France.
"I'm glad to know this room is finally getting some use."
Elspeth looked up from her canvas, furrowing her brows at Demetre's sudden intrusion. She gently set a paintbrush back into a glass of water, wiping her hands on a tattered apron she'd pulled from the only cabinet in the room.
"I spend quite a good amount of my time here," Elspeth confirmed, "Thank you for showing me."
"Is this Mary?"
"It's going to be," Elspeth laughed, shaking her head as Demetre dissected the portrait.
"You're painting her a queen."
"Because she is a queen, with or without Francis."
Demetre pressed his lips together, nodding his head and clasping his hands behind his back.
"Straight to the point, aren't you?"
"I find no enjoyment in coyly avoiding the truth."
The man bit back a smile at the hidden sharpness of her comment.
"How have you been?" The man questioned, "It seems you have a rather busy life."
"Only at court," She nodded with a small smile. "What do you do with your time, then, oh, Hunter of Grim?"
"Heh, I'll tell you I stay out of those damned woods," Demetre chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, "Most of it is divided between the king's sons— I make sure Francis has got his head screwed on straight, travel with Bash, so long as it's—"
