Chapter 4

The sun was setting as they arrived back at the castle stables.

Elmont dismounted first, in order to help her down. His horse was much taller than the one she'd been practicing on. She threw her leg over to sit side-saddle, then slid down into his arms. His hands caught her waist, and her arms collected around his neck. Her landing was so terrible, she unbalanced slightly. He gripped her tightly to stop her from stumbling. She looked up at him, his face only a small distance away in the dim light, and felt her knees weaken slightly.

"You know," she said unsteadily, "Sometimes I wish you weren't attached to the Duchess."

Elmont blinked, and took a moment to answer. "Attached?" he repeated. "…Who?"

"A–aren't you promised to the Duchess of Hillsbrad?"

"No," Elmont frowned, shaking his head. "Wherever did you hear that?"

For a moment, she stood with her mouth hanging open. "It's – everyone! That's what everyone says! It's…" she trailed off.

"It's what?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Common knowledge," she finished meekly.

He lifted a hand to smooth his beard and nodded. "Well, I have to say, I'm flattered my personal life is something that can be considered common knowledge."

"John, seriously," she said, interrupting his joke and moving her hands down to grip his arms. "You're not?"

His gaze returned to her, a small smile on his lips. "No."

"I thought… All this time…"

"It's possible the Duchess herself spread that rumour. She's been known to do things like that in the past."

Bette didn't give a damn about the stupid Duchess. "So," she continued, "we're both single now."

He lowered his hand to brush over her hair lightly, his head tilting downwards, and there was a glint in his blue eyes when he responded. "Yes, I suppose so," he said, his voice suddenly deeper. Her stomach flipped, and her knees gave up entirely. She leaned back against the surface behind her, but then realised it was a horse who thought she was urging him to move away. Her support disappeared, and Elmont caught her around the waist when she stumbled, pulling her up against him. The way he held her made her heart race. She looked up into his face, and she was positive her heart was about to explode.

His head tilted further towards hers; their noses brushed together. Her body was telling her to run; she couldn't stay here, with him, like this… even if she wanted to. It was too much... Too much, and she couldn't think straight.

"I have to go," she said, the words stopping his lips only a centimetre from hers. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She couldn't bear to see the look on his face. A long pause, and she felt his breath against her cheek.

"Now?"

"The Mother-Superior will be announcing me dead if I don't show up soon," she said, trying to force some humour into her voice, but failing. Her cheeks burning red, she edged away from his arms, needing to be free for just a moment, just one second, free to think and try to understand what was happening. What had just happened. Halfway across the stall, she turned back to look at him, and wished she hadn't. The rejection in his eyes was palpable. She started to say something to force a sense of normality back, but couldn't. Instead, she felt her throat close up.

"Sorry," she choked out, and ran for it.

It was two days later when she was once again called out late at night to take medicine to Sir Miles. She stopped in at the tavern on the way there to pick up some trout for his dinner; she knew he wasn't eating properly. While she waited by the kitchen door, half asleep, she phased out completely, going back, once again, to that moment in the stable with Elmont. She still didn't quite understand what had happened, but she knew one thing for certain; he wasn't a little boy anymore, and she wasn't a little girl, and everything had changed.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when something jerked her arm.

"Elizabeth! My number one girl! How's it going?"

It was Elric Hamon, tugging her towards him – tall, powerful, drunk. Bette was speechless. A crowd of Hamon's friends had come to the bar, and were sending catcalls her way.

"Sir Hamon…" she choked out, "Please, don't…"

"Aww, she's playing hard to get tonight, boys!" he shouted to his friends.

"Please," she said, more insistently, prying her arm away from his grip. "I saw you the other night with that woman – I thought we were through!"

"What's that, love?" he asked. He was so drunk he could hardly keep his attention on her for more than a second."

At that moment, the chef came through the door, passing her Sir Miles' trout wrapped in a cloth. He looked over the situation quickly and asked Bette, "Is he bothering you?"

"No, it's fine, he-"

"What's that, fatty?" Hamon demanded, turning from Bette to size up the chef, also quite a large man. "I've petitioned to court her, I'll have you know – you don't need to worry."

"You've petitioned to court most girls in the city, Sir Hamon," the chef said in a low voice. "And I'm getting tired of you harassing them in my tavern."

Hamon snapped so quickly she almost missed it. The chef took a powerful fist straight in his belly, but it didn't knock him down. The fight broke out suddenly, but it wasn't going to be a quick one.

Bette scrambled out of the way as the two men crashed across the room, chairs and tables flying out of their way. She looked around for an escape, but couldn't find anything. She had to stay pressed against the wall while the two men tore pieces out of each other.

Finally, the guards arrived.

"City Guard! Break it up!" Two men in white armour pulled the fighters apart, and in the gap between them, Bette could see through to the doorway. Elmont stood there in his full armour, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"What happened here?" he demanded, his eyes sweeping the room, stopping halfway to fix on her.

The chef and Sir Hamon started yelling their explanations at him, but Bette had a feeling he couldn't hear them. He was frozen in place, looking between her, the wreckage in the room, and Sir Hamon.

He held up a hand.

"Adept," he addressed her, formally. "Did this Knight hurt you?"

Bette swallowed nervously. She didn't want Elmont to go overboard. "He attempted to accost me, but the chef stepped in on my behalf."

"Arrest him," Elmont directed the City Guards. Hamon bellowed in rage.

"I did no such thing – I didn't even touch her! You will take the word of a girl over mine? I am a Knight!"

Elmont ignored him. The Guards hauled him outside. Elmont directed the people still present to help clean up the mess. Bette made her way over to him shyly.

They didn't speak. With a glance, she followed him outside, where the guards were struggling to contain Hamon from breaking free of their grip.

"What does it matter, anyway?" he screamed at Elmont. "I have courting permission from her Order."

Elmont paused as he passed him. "That's fine," he said calmly. "The problem is, you don't have permission from me."

And with that, quite suddenly, Elmont punched the man in the face – one strike, squarely over his eyebrow, and he dropped. Hamon's eyebrow split, and the blood dripped down his face as he lay on the ground, utterly out cold.

Bette swallowed, somewhat shocked. She realised she had never actually seen him fight before.

"Nice one, Sir!" one of the City Guards exclaimed. "He'll be a little easier to manage now." The pair picked him up by the elbows and dragged him away.

Elmont watched him go. "Unfortunately, he's not under my command. I'd have him shovelling manure for at least a decade." He ran a hand over his mustache. "Although, I may be able to pull some strings…"

Bette laughed, relieved and exhausted, and tugged on his elbow. "Come on – let's get out of here."

He walked her the rest of the way to deliver the medicine and the trout. He held the door for her as they left, and continued back through the dark, quiet streets to the chapter where she lived. At the front steps, they paused. Men weren't allowed inside.

Bette turned to face him, hesitated, then hugged him fiercely, tightly. He exhaled with an 'oomf' and stepped backwards, and laughed.

"Thank you for… everything," she said.

"I'd do anything for you, milady."

His simple words overwhelmed her. She knew it was true - it probably had always been true, she'd just been too slow to notice. He was not involved with anyone else. He'd been waiting for her. It had taken some time for her to process, to fully believe that she wasn't imagining it, but now he was standing right here in front of her, and for the first time she was sure.

She couldn't think of anything to say - instead, she kissed him. Finally.

He froze beneath the touch of her lips, momentarily stunned. She ran her hands through his hair and over the nape of his neck, wishing the armour didn't stop her from going lower. After a moment, he brought his hands up to her waist, pulled her closer, and deepened the kiss. The armor against her chest was hard, but his hands on her back, and his lips, were soft and tender.

She had been kissed a few times before, but it had never been like this. This felt like coming home.

He pulled back. "I didn't know you…" She cut him off by claiming his lips again, then breaking away and resting her forehead against his. "I didn't know you felt like that," he finished.

"I thought you were promised to that Duchess!" she exclaimed. "I thought you had been for years!"

He shook his head slightly, smiling. "Lilibet… You're my earliest, my brightest memory."

"You're mine, too… but I thought… and I only let Sir Hamon try because…" she sighed, and looked away. "I'm sorry, John."

"Don't apologise," he said, his finger on her cheek urging her head gently back to meet his eyes. "Besides, if you'd attempted to marry him, I would have simply claimed it was invalid."

She frowned. "Huh?"

"Well, you agreed to marry me a long time ago."

She raised an eyebrow. "When I was five."

He smiled. "You remember."

She laughed. "Well, Sir Elmont... I hope you don't expect me to be an easy catch. I have no idea what to expect in these matters - after all, I've never met a real-"

He kissed her before she could finish.

The end – maybe?