by Shay Savage
Though I did not wish to think of it, my mind replayed the threat Edgar made in the great room, and my thoughts ever since had been conjuring images of what might happen. Would he truly do as he said? What if he did come here with his army, and Branford were killed? My stomach clenched as I thought of what he said he would do to me, and an involuntary shudder ran through my body.
“What are you thinking?” Branford asked quietly.
I shook my head quickly, trying to avoid the answer, but I felt his hand under my chin, and I looked at his face. His eyes were deep with worry.
“You are thinking of what he said?” Though it was a question, I knew from his expression he was well aware, so I nodded slightly in response. “I wish you had not heard such talk. I never wanted your beautiful face contorted in fear of him.”
“He has said these things before?”
Branford nodded.
“You did not tell me.”
“I did not wish to encumber you with those worries.”
“I want to know,” I told him. “I wish to share your burden. Will that not be my duty as queen?”
“It is my duty,” Branford said, “and my load to bear. I want you to think only of joyous things, not to be plagued with the worries I suffer.”
“I would rather know,” I said. My skin crawled from my own words as it often did when I told a servant what to do or expressed a difference in opinion to my husband or another royal. I reached up and touched the side of his face. “Otherwise, I think…I thought you did not love me any longer.”
“Alexandra,” he whispered, and his brow furrowed, “I will never stop loving you.”
“Branford,” I said as I sat up a little. His hand dropped from my hair. “Am I not your wife?”
“Of course you are!”
“Then please…please let me also care for your mind as well as your body,” I said, using the words he had spoken to me earlier. “Let me share your burden.”
He looked at me for a long moment before his hands rose to cup my face.
“You truly wish this?” he asked softly.
“I do.”
He seemed to contemplate, then gave a slight nod.
“You are—as always—my better,” he said, and he lifted his head from the pillow to capture my lips. I kissed him softly and then lay my head back upon his chest to listen to his slow, steady breathing and the beat of his heart.
“I love you,” I told him.
“And I love you,” he replied. “I hope I will be better at showing you this in the days before us. It is my wish for you to be happy—”
A knock at the door interrupted Branford’s words, and he growled as he slipped from the bed and went to see who was there. A moment later he returned, his face ashen and his eyes staring toward me without seeing.
“Camden…” he whispered, his voice shaking on the single word.
And that is when I knew our king was dead.
Chapter 29—Finally Discover
Though I should have expected it, the blaring of the trumpets startled me.
I looked up at the castle walls and could not begin to count the number of people there—trumpeters, nobles, and commoners alike. Though I had attended spectacles where most of the castle-dwellers and several nearby commoners were present, it was nothing like this.
When I first learned about Branford’s kingdom, he spoke of the prior census of the lands, indicating some three thousand men, women, and children occupying the lands surrounding the castle. It seemed as though every one of them was here now.
They were here to witness the coronation of their new king.
Messengers had gone out in the middle of the night, announcing at the same time the death of King Camden and the crowning of King Branford. The ceremony was a formality—a spectacle for the people, since the crown had been placed on Branford’s head as his father’s body cooled. The kingdom could not be without a king—not even for a moment.
My mind summoned memories of the early hours of the morning.
I had followed Branford back to the king’s chambers and was immediately met by a crushingly distraught Sunniva. I held her, keeping her from falling to the floor as Branford approached Camden’s bed. I stared, unable to remove my gaze from Branford as he reached out and touched his adoptive father’s hand. He flinched back immediately, and I could see a shudder run through his bare shoulders.
Others in the court had gathered in the hallway as the news spread through the castle. Father Tucker approached, stepping around Sunniva and me as he made his way to Branford’s side. He spoke quietly to him, and I could not make out the words. He also reached for Camden’s hand and then touched his face and the side of his neck. He stood and turned toward the open doorway.
“The king is dead,” he said to all in the room. He turned back to the king’s body and took the crown from the small platform above Camden’s head. Branford stood motionless as the symbol of the kingdom’s leadership was placed upon his head. “Long live the king!”
“Long live King Branford!” the voices from behind me began to chant. Branford turned slowly to them, looking upon his subjects with a pale face and shock in his eyes.
He didn’t look that different now.
As Branford left my side and walked through the swarm of people, the crowd barely contained by the guard, he managed to hold in the numbness I knew he still felt in his heart. He would not display it in front of his people.
I felt Ida’s hand against my back, signaling me to follow Branford’s strides toward the raised platform near the castle gates. As I walked through the opening and into the view of the crowd, a cheer rose up that was even louder than the cries for their new king. I felt my face burn in embarrassment but managed to force my feet to take me through the throngs of people and up the steps to stand next to my husband and king.
Though the crown was already officially transferred, Sunniva placed the simple gold circlet upon Branford’s head. He then, in turn, took the crown that had adorned Sunniva’s head for many years and placed it on mine. As the crowd continued to call out to us, Branford leaped up on Romero, and I was placed in front of him before we rode slowly around the castle.
The people cheered as Branford waved. I gripped his arm as he held me against his chest, and his mouth breathed warm air to my ear.
“They love you,” he said. “They see you so clearly.”
I felt heat rise to my face again as Branford pressed his lips to my cheek, and the cheers of the people of Silverhelm grew louder.
“Long live King Branford! Long live Queen Alexandra!”
The chanting became deafening as Branford slowly directed Romero down the streets, the stallion’s tail swishing at the ruckus around us. People who could get close enough to us reached out to touch Romero’s flanks as well as Branford’s legs and the skirt of my dress.
“I believe they would do anything for you.” Branford sighed as his arm held me tighter. “I have so much to learn—so much to make up for—but I can only hope to be as good a king as you will be a queen.”
*****
Our deadline was fast approaching.
Within a week, I would either be in the Women’s Room yet again with my husband’s concubine in tow, or one of us would be with child. If this did not happen, King Edgar would strike—either with his army or with his daughter.
King Edgar and Princess Whitney had come to the castle on their weekly visit in order to make that fact as clear as possible to Branford, who still struggled with the loss of his adoptive father, the grieving former queen, and his wife whose body would not produce the heir he needed.
Most of the court, myself included, had been removed from the great hall hours ago. I had stayed in the royal chambers to try to place things where I wanted them, for we had been moved into our new rooms only a few days before. Amarra walked around the room, sniffing at the corners and examining the spot by the fire where her bed had been placed on its platform. Janet arranged my dresses, and I took care of B
ranford’s clothing. He did not like my handmaid touching his things.
“Where shall I put these?” Janet asked as she held up a small box filled with jewelry Branford had purchased for me.
“Over there,” I said as I pointed at the chest of drawers near the bed. “Up on top.”
“Yes, Lady Alex—yes, my queen.”
I chuckled a little. It had been difficult for Janet, who addressed me so frequently, to change my title. She apologized for it often, and it reminded me of the first days with Branford, when I could not stop referring to him as my lord.
My Branford.
Janet and I continued to organize the rooms. I was glad she still seemed to be able to chat with me, regardless of the crown that was now on my head.
“Watch, Janet,” I said as I bent down to organize all of Branford’s things on the shelf under the water basin. He was quite particular about where they went, and I was careful to put them in the same positions they had been in before.
“I see, my queen,” Janet said. She stood up and smiled at me. “I keep thinking maybe if I…if I can do everything right, maybe someday…”
She did not finish her sentence, but I knew what she meant.
“Branford has a very difficult time accepting people,” I told her softly. “It is his nature to not trust.”
“I have tried to serve him as I do you,” she replied. “What else can I do?”
I shook my head slowly.
“There is nothing, I’m afraid,” I told her. “Perhaps in time he will become accustomed to your presence enough not to be so harsh with you.”
“Does he think my performance inadequate?”
“No,” I said, trying to reassure her. I walked over to Janet and placed my hands on her shoulders. “Your service is exemplary, and I have told him such. Besides, you are also a good friend to me.”
Janet’s cheeks darkened, and she smiled shyly.
“Surely not,” she said quietly. “I am but your servant.”
“You are my friend,” I said, insisting. When she looked up at me, I hugged her. She placed her arms around my back and held me for a moment. When I released her, there were tears in her eyes.
“Thank you, my queen,” she whispered. “I enjoy being at your side more than you will ever know.”
We went back to our work for a time, but soon I needed a reprieve. I stepped out of the room just to get away from it for a while. It felt very strange to be in the royal chambers at all. I had been comfortable in our rooms before, and now all I could think was that Camden had died here. Even though the bed and the rest of the furniture were from our other room, it still felt unnatural. The only thing I truly enjoyed about the room was that it was there where I could remove the crown that had been placed upon my head.
Branford had talked before about not wanting the crown—not wanting to be king. I had never really thought much about how it would change my position. Everything in my life still felt so strange to me, even after more than two years. In my mind, I spent more days feeling like a servant than I did a noble.
I reached up to my head and felt the cool metal that circled it. Though it was not a large crown, it felt heavy on my head. I leaned against the stone wall that overlooked the gardens and breathed in the fresh air for a moment. It always helped to clear my head. Just as I was about to turn back, I saw movement near the entrance and watched Branford walk quickly into the gardens with Princess Whitney at his heels. As Branford tried to escape from her, Whitney berated him from behind.
“You know it will happen, Branford,” Whitney said. “You are not prepared for war, so why do you hold out when the outcome is inevitable? You know I will be your queen.”
“You and your father underestimate me,” Branford replied curtly.
“Well, you are very well versed in the art of underestimating your opponents!” she said with a laugh. “That is why your kingdom is in shambles and at our mercy.”
“You should, perhaps, remember your place,” Branford said to her. “If you are here to convince me to marry you, another approach might be more successful.” He laughed, and the sound was cruel. I had never heard such a noise from him before. “As if I would ever consider it!”
“You need an heir,” she said, and her hand grasped that of my husband. She pulled him to her, and though I could see the resistance in his shoulders, he still allowed her to place his hand upon her belly. “I can give you one. I do not even care if you keep her in a room close to us as long as I am queen, and she is a servant, as she should be.”
“I will not do that!” Branford snapped at her as he pulled away and turned his back on her. He began to walk out of the garden.
“It will happen, Branford!” she called after him. “Either you do it now without bloodshed, or you are forced to do it later with a sword at your back!”
I heard her laughter flow up from the gardens below as she slowly followed my husband out of my view. At that moment, I wished I had been taught the skills of an archer so I could pierce her heart where she stood.
Branford did not return to our rooms for some time. When he did, his mood was foul. I knew it was her doing and tried to get him to speak of it with me. He all but refused, stating there was nothing new to discuss.
“I only wish to know what you are thinking,” I told him, “and feeling.”
“Nothing has changed,” he replied. “Edgar threatens me, Whitney annoys me, and the court waivers on what action they wish me to take. With Lord William here supporting me, it is easier, but I wish Parnell would return from Seacrest. He has been there a week now, and I hoped he would be back with…news.”
“Which news is this?”
Branford shook his head, his lips clamped tight together. He looked around us and raised his hands to the air and his eyes to the ceiling in frustration.
“You will not tell me,” I said softly.
“I cannot tell you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not here. Not now.”
“You said you would. You said you would not shut me out.”
“I will not,” he replied. “When the time is right, I will tell you. When I know there is no one else listening, I will tell you everything.”
His gaze danced to the door and back to me again. It had become an almost automatic response whenever we spoke. Too many spies had been discovered within the castle walls though none close to the royal chambers. I had to wonder if he did not use his own paranoia as an excuse to keep me from worrying.
“You keep saying that,” I said, “but it has yet to come to pass. You are still keeping me at a distance. You do not tell me your thoughts.”
I tried to keep the emotion from my voice, but I was not completely successful. He reached up to cup my face as he looked down at me. His mouth covered mine, and the warmth of his lips made me feel safe again as it always did. I knew he did it to distract me though that did not hinder its effectiveness.
“What must I do to prove it to you?” he asked after a few minutes. “There are some things I cannot speak of if I am not sure we cannot be heard.”
“Tell me how often you think of me.” I made my request through persistent kisses.
“Always,” he replied.
“When?”
“Yesterday, when I was teaching young Stephens to use his shield as a weapon. I was distracted because I was thinking of the first time I took you to the meadow and the sounds you made when I touched you. And that led me to think of the last time we were there, when you cried out so loudly all the pheasants took flight.”
I looked up into his eyes and there was no doubt in my mind he spoke the truth.
“Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
“Is that what you need? To hear these words from me?”
“Yes.”
“You are everything…in my every thought…”
“Could we go there again?” I asked.
“To the meadow?” Branford frowned. “I do not know if that is wise…”
; “Why would it not be?” I asked.
“I do not wish for you to worry,” he replied.
“Branford”—I sighed and tilted my head as I looked up into his face, but he refused to meet me with his eyes—“you promised me. Do not hide things from me any longer.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them to find mine. His mouth turned up slightly and his hand came up to brush across my lips.
“As you wish, my queen,” he said quietly. “Shall we go in the afternoon?”
*****
Branford dismounted, reached up, and lifted me from Romero. He pulled the basket containing our lunch from the back of the horse’s saddle as I spread the bright green blanket on the ground. Branford dropped the food on the edge of the cloth and looked over into the woods.
“Come sit with me?” he asked, and he reached for my hand.
“Of course,” I replied. His fingers covered mine, and he pulled them to his lips before settling us both on the blanket.
“You recall last month when I attended court in Hadebrand without you?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
“I rode past Sterling Castle,” Branford said. “I took another route, which was not the straight path, just so I could get a better look at it. It had been so long since I had seen it, but I do not know what to think of what I saw there.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“Many men—workers, mostly. They could have been carpenters, masons, or both. They were bringing building materials from the field outside the castle walls into the gate. I could not determine exactly what they were doing, only that they have completely torn apart the east tower.”
“Why would they do such a thing?” I asked. “I thought Edgar wanted Sterling Castle?”
“As did I,” Branford said. “His actions make no sense to me.”
The sun warmed us as we ate and spoke softly to each other. Though Branford attempted to keep the conversation light, I was hoping out here—where there were no ears—he would speak more freely.
I was mistaken.
“I heard Whitney harassing you in the gardens,” I finally admitted.