Unexpected Circumstances - the Complete Series

by Shay Savage

“He takes his anger out on my people.”

  I looked up to Camden’s eyes again and saw the sadness inside.

  “He is my only heir,” Camden said. “Sunniva and I were not able to have our own children, and there was a time I thought I would have to take more…‘drastic measures’ to obtain a suitable heir. It would have hurt Sunniva so much if I had. When Branford and Ida came to us, Sunniva took them both in as her own. Since he was already of my blood, I had my son and heir. I could not love him more if he were my true son and not my nephew, but that has not always been in the best interest of my people. I have allowed many of his transgressions, even when they were to the detriment of others, in hopes that he would somehow come to terms with his mistrust and anger before it could do true harm.”

  Camden walked slowly toward the window and looked out onto the castle grounds.

  “I feared his anger would put my people at undue risk, and it still may,” he said, continuing, “but for the first time, I feel there is hope for Silverhelm and its future king.”

  He took a step toward me and placed his finger under my chin.

  “You have given me that hope, Alexandra.”

  “I have?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “In only a handful of days, you have already tempered him,” Camden said. “When he speaks of you, there is a light in his eyes I have not seen since he was a small boy—since before my brother and his wife were killed.”

  My mind recounted Branford’s tale of being trapped inside the bench seat of a carriage while his parents were murdered, his mother brutalized. How could such a thing not affect a small child, even as he grew into adulthood? He could not trust others, for those closest to him had betrayed him so viciously, leaving him scarred inside his heart. But who had truly been behind it?

  “Was it King Edgar?” I asked with trepidation. I knew so little of my king’s personality, and I feared my question was too forward. He did not seem affronted as he answered.

  “There is no evidence,” he said and then sighed. “The four men responsible had been in my brother’s employ for many years when they turned traitorous. We do not know if they were enemies of the Sterlings from the very beginning or if they were influenced later. Branford has his suspicions, yes, but he has no direct evidence. I am more inclined to believe Edgar jumped on an opportunistic time to seize nearby lands rather than caused my brother’s death.”

  Camden sighed deeply and cast his gaze out the window again.

  “I have to believe that way,” he said quietly. “If I were to accuse another royal family as Branford has done, it would be seen as an act of war. I do not want to bring my people to war when I cannot be sure of the reason. Branford is a fighter—a soldier—but he has not seen true war in his young life. I have. I understand the consequences, and he does not. He has only had revenge on his mind until he brought you here as his wife.”

  The king stepped close to me and reached out to take my hand in his.

  “I came here to thank you for that, Alexandra,” King Camden said, “and to beg you to…to continue whatever it is you are doing that makes my son so happy.”

  “Of course, my king.” I knew I was blushing, for I had a fair guess as to the reason Branford was happy in my company. I remembered Camden’s eyes when he spotted our behavior at the dinner table, and felt even more heat on my face.

  “I will take my leave of you now,” Camden said. He tilted his head toward me, released my hand, and turned to walk out of the room. He paused briefly at the table just inside the door where my mother’s bowl sat on display. I had not yet decided what should be put inside of it.

  “Where did you get this bowl?” he asked.

  “It was given to me when I was young,” I said quietly, for he still made me quite nervous. “It was my mother’s. At least, that’s what the nuns said.”

  “You are from Eagle?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “What were the names of your parents?”

  “Conway and Rebecca Fay, sire,” I told him. “That’s what the nuns told me, at least—I don’t really remember. So many people were dying then.”

  King Camden’s fingers ran along the edge of the bowl.

  “I remember being served the most interesting stew from this very bowl,” he said softly. I strained my ears. Had I heard him right? “She said it was one of the first ones she had made and had always been her favorite, so she would never sell it. The stew she served was a strange concoction of flavors and not exactly tasteful.”

  Camden laughed softly.

  “But the bowls—they were beautiful.” He nodded his head twice and then held the bowl out for me to take. “Rebecca Fay offered me a meal from this same bowl, Alexandra—I am sure of it. She must have been nearly ready to give birth to you, but she kept working because her bowls were in such high demand.”

  He smiled gently at me, which was not an expression I had seen on his face before.

  “Her cooking left something to be desired”—King Camden laughed, but not unkindly—“but she was extremely generous and kind. I didn’t speak to Conway for long. He returned from working in the fields just as I was leaving, but he seemed a well-mannered and gentle soul.”

  He turned to look me over, his expression thoughtful.

  “You must have been quite young when so many in the village fell to plague. Perhaps it was not by accident but by divine design. By the grace of God, perhaps you were spared to come to Branford when he needed one such as you by his side.”

  He nodded again, then turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. I sat in the chair near the fire and contemplated his words. Did he truly believe I was here for such a purpose? To save the people of Silverhelm from their future king’s wrath? Had I not had similar thoughts myself?

  I found myself smiling, thinking that if this were my role, at least I had some inkling as to what my duties would entail. Picking up the kettle, I filled it with clear water and placed it over the fire. When Branford came back from his discussion with his guard, it would be ready for him.

  I would be ready for him.

  Janet followed me back to our rooms after the evening meal and helped me remove my dress and put on the nightdress Branford favored—the one with the laces in the front, which never stayed tied for long. I blushed at the thought and then dismissed Janet to her room for the night. I reheated the kettle and took a seat in the chair near the fire.

  A while later, I went to sit on the edge of the bed since it was a bit more comfortable.

  As the sun set and the evening breeze cooled, I lay back on the pillows.

  An hour later, I climbed under the blankets to ward off the chill night air.

  Branford did not return before I fell asleep. Alone.

  *****

  The next morning, Branford slept at my side though I had not heard him come in during the night. I rose quietly, unsure how long he had even been asleep. I dressed, made his tea, and then watched the water cool. Finally deciding he was not going to wake any time soon and also not wishing to disturb him, I went to the kitchens to find breakfast. Janet was there, smiling her good morning and offering me some tea. I took the steaming cup from her, and we spoke of the morning’s itinerary.

  Branford did not wake until nearly midday. When he did, he was groggy, distant, and short-tempered. He seemed pleased when I offered to bring him his meal to our rooms, but when Janet helped me carry some of it to him, he snapped at her almost immediately.

  “You are supposed to be my wife’s handmaid,” he yelled at her. “It does not mean you spend all your time in our rooms! You may come in here to dress her and possibly to undress her if I am otherwise occupied and unable to do it myself!”

  Janet cringed at his harsh words, and when I tried to speak to him, he snapped at me as well.

  “I am not discussing this with you, Alexandra!” he yelled. “Get her out of here, or I’ll remove her permanently!”

  Janet scurried out of the room without further pro
mpting, and Branford plopped into the chair by the fire and dropped his head into his hands. Unsure of what to do, I prepared his plate in silence and set it on the table closest to him. As I started to back away, Branford reached out and wrapped his hand around my wrist. He pulled me toward him and then placed me sideways on his lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and held me close to his chest.

  “I never should have allowed her to return with us,” he mumbled against the top of my head. “I do not like having her here…in my way.”

  “How is she in your way?” I asked.

  “When she is here, I cannot touch you the way I wish,” he said with a growl, and I felt his hand reach down under my skirts. He gripped my bare thigh with his fingers but did not venture farther. Instead, he brought me in close to his chest again. He was silent for some time.

  “Branford, what has upset you?” I finally asked when the silence became too much.

  He blew a long breath, ruffling the hair on the top of my head.

  “Nothing, my wife,” he said softly. “Nothing you need to worry about anyway.”

  I nodded slightly, wishing he would tell me what was obviously bothering him but knowing he would not.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he responded, “but I do not wish to eat just yet.”

  I nodded again and fell silent. He held me like that for many minutes before he finally decided to take his meal though he did not eat as heartily as he usually did. I hoped he was not feeling ill.

  “I need to go to Sawyer,” he announced as he finished his meal.

  I looked down at my hands.

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked.

  “I want you with me,” he said with conviction. “I will not have you out of my sight—not now.”

  “Not now?” I repeated. Branford looked up at me, meeting my eyes for the first time since he woke.

  “I need to know you are safe,” he finally said. “Safe means with me.”

  I spent the rest of the day in the stuffy carriage with my husband, who refused to explain to me what was going on or why we were going to Sawyer other than to say he needed to speak with Parnell. Once we got there, his conversation lasted all of fifteen minutes, and we were heading back to the carriage again.

  I did not understand his behavior at all.

  “Are you sure they will be ready?” Branford said softly to Parnell as we were about to depart.

  “Of course, Branford,” Sir Parnell said as he clasped his hand on Branford’s shoulder. “I will not let you down.”

  Branford took my hand and assisted me into the carriage. I settled back for another long ride, for it would be nearly nightfall by the time we reached our home. Branford was again silent and brooding. He reached out and took my hand, holding it between his as we rode along, but when questioned, he would not offer me an explanation.

  We had been riding in silence for some time when the carriage suddenly veered to one side and then came to an abrupt stop. Branford’s brow furrowed, and he leaned over to open the door slightly and peek outside. He swore under his breath.

  “Bandits,” Branford said with a snarl. He placed his hand on my shoulder for a brief second before he stood and headed out the carriage door. I heard him shouting as soon as the door closed again, but I could not hear his words. With the coming darkness and the closed carriage door, I could not make out what was happening at all. I rose from the bench and made my way outside.

  It happened so quickly, I felt as though I had barely had time to blink before it was over. First, I was coming out of the carriage, and Branford had his sword drawn against one of the robbers, and he seemed prepared to run the man through. There was already another body lying on the side of the road, a few feet from them. I saw Branford thrust his sword forward and then draw it back, covered in the blood of the man in front of him.

  That was when I felt rough fingers gripping my upper arm and pulling me toward the front of the carriage. I screamed, and Branford turned, his eyes wide as the gruff man placed his knife against my throat.

  I had never seen Branford so obviously terrified.

  He clenched the hilt of his sword and started to take a step forward. The man holding me screamed at him as the blade pressed against my neck.

  “Stop where you are!” he yelled out. “I will slice her open! I swear it!”

  “Do not harm her,” Branford said. The strain in his voice was evident. He crouched, and in surrender, slowly laid his sword on the ground. “Tell me what you want, and I shall make it happen.”

  “What I want?” The man laughed a harsh laugh. “I would like to see—”

  With a thump, the man’s body was thrown away from me and into the road. I screamed, unable to help myself, as I turned to see the driver—the same man who had driven us to Silverhelm directly after our wedding—grappling with my attacker.

  The two men rolled, and Branford regained his sword just as I heard the carriage driver gasp. For a moment, our gazes met—the driver’s eyes as wide as mine. His mouth dropped open, and he gasped before his head dropped back to the ground.

  The bandit had just begun to rise when Branford’s sword cleaved through half of his neck, spurting blood over the ground and the side of the carriage. I felt bile rise to my throat at the sight; my vision blurred, and it sounded like my head was under water. I could not breathe, and I slumped to the ground.

  As the darkness faded from my vision, I felt a warm hand against my cheek. I slowly opened my eyes to Branford’s panicked gaze.

  “Alexandra! Please, say something!”

  “Branford…” It seemed all I could manage.

  “Thank you, God in heaven,” Branford mumbled. “Are you hurt?”

  “I do not think so,” I replied. I tried to sit up, but Branford held me down.

  “Do not try to move, Alexandra,” he said. “Just stay here. I want to check on the carriage driver.”

  Images flooded back into my head, and I ignored Branford’s words and pulled myself from the ground. Only a few feet away, I could see Branford crouched near one side of the carriage driver—his hand wrapped around the handle of the knife, its blade buried in the driver’s chest.

  “Is she all right?” The poor man coughed as he tried to speak.

  “She is unharmed,” Branford told him. “You likely saved her life.”

  I moved to them and dropped to the ground. I kneeled close to the driver’s shoulders and gently placed his head on my skirts.

  “I am fine.” I tried to speak calmly, but my voice betrayed me. He nodded and tried to draw breath, but it was ragged and uneven. Branford placed his other hand on the man’s chest, around the entry point of the blade.

  “If I remove it, death will only come faster,” Branford said softly.

  “We can do nothing?” Tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Branford merely shook his head slowly from side to side before leaning close to the man on the ground.

  “What is your name?” Branford asked. His voice was soft and earnest and reminded me of how he spoke to me when he was trying to ease my fears.

  “Thomas, sire.”

  “Do you have a family, Thomas?”

  “Yes…sire. My…my wife. Our daughter is grown now...moved to Wynton.” He coughed again, and I turned my head as blood sprayed from his mouth.

  “What is your wife’s name?”

  “Samantha…sire.” He gasped and his muscles tensed. “She worked in the fields, but she is lame now…What will happen to her?”

  “Do not fear for her,” Branford said. “You have saved my wife from certain harm, and I am forever in your debt, Thomas. Samantha shall come to live with us in the castle.”

  “Thank you, sire.” The man reached up and grasped Branford’s forearm, but he looked into my eyes. “You will be a…a good king…with her at your side.”

  His hand fell and his head slumped at the same time, and he did not take another breath. Branford pulled me up from the ground, insisting we
get back to the castle as soon as possible.

  “We cannot just leave him!” I cried as tears continued down my cheeks.

  “I have to keep you safe!” Branford took my face in his hands. “I will send for his body—I promise you—but I will make you safe first. If you are harmed, he died for nothing.”

  Branford took the harness attached to the carriage horses and placed me near the withers before he climbed on behind me. He wrapped his arm around me and his fingers gripped the reins. A moment later, we were galloping back up the road to Castle Silverhelm.

  We rode fast with Branford’s arm wrapped tightly around my center, holding me back against his chest as we sped through the darkening sky. As I looked from one edge of the road to the other, I could not help but imagine what might be out there—who might be out there—watching us and waiting. Images of Thomas would not leave my mind, and silent tears fell sporadically as Branford’s lips touched the side of my face, and his whispered words attempted to bring me comfort.

  I nearly cried out in relief when the castle gates loomed up ahead. I was given to Dunstan to watch over as soon as we arrived at the castle’s entrance, and Branford went immediately to speak with Camden.

  He did not return to me that night though he was in our bed come morning. He did not stir at all in his sleep when I rose, and I did not wish to disturb his rest, so I left our rooms quietly. Colin and another guard I did not recognize were outside our doors. They both watched over me at a respectable distance as I ate breakfast with Janet and went to the marketplace to find more of the right color thread to finish Branford’s baldric.

  Branford had apparently awakened and had already left our rooms when I returned. I sat with Janet and Sunniva in the Women’s Room, embroidering and speaking of sewing and cooking. I managed to finish the baldric and asked Sunniva when she thought I should give it to him.

  “His birthday is next month,” Sunniva told me. “It would be a fine gift.”

  I smiled, glad I had asked. It had not even occurred to me to ask the day of his birth. After all, birthdays were only celebrated by those of noble blood, and I had never even had the need to know my own. I only knew that I was born shortly after harvest.