by Shay Savage
“Hush,” Branford said. His tone was harsh, but his touch was soft as he held me to his chest for a moment before kissing my temple. He took my face between his palms. “Trust me, my wife. I told you I would protect you in this matter, and I will. Did you think I had not considered it before now?”
He removed his hands and walked across the room to one of the wardrobes. He opened the wooden doors and brought out clean linen sheets that appeared nearly identical to the ones on our bed. He raised his eyebrows at me and tossed the sheets into my arms. Within only a few minutes, he had the stained sheets nearly completely burned in the fire, and I had the clean sheets spread out on the bed.
“Now we will have to make sure they look well-used,” Branford informed me. I looked up as his eyes bored into me and his words became clear in their meaning. He stalked across the room toward me, and a few minutes later, my dress was on the floor, and I was again supine beneath my husband’s body.
I heard another sound at our door and glanced over Branford’s shoulder to see none other than his sister standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. I gasped and tried to duck myself underneath my husband and hide from her eyes. Branford reached behind himself and drew the blankets up over our bodies.
“One of these days…” Branford mumbled as he glanced over his shoulder and yelled at his sister. “Ida, I told you not to come barging in here anymore!”
“Good morning to you too, Branford,” Ida said, raising an eyebrow at him. It was the same expression I had seen on Branford’s face before. She smiled at me though I was still trying to hide behind her brother. “Hello, Alexandra. Is my brother still being an ass?”
I took a sharp breath; any words I may have had suddenly caught in my throat. Branford grumbled under his breath, his forehead resting against my shoulder.
“Um, no,” I finally mumbled, trying not to allow my words to sound like a question.
“Ida!” Branford yelled over his shoulder. “Get out of here, or all you are going to see is my ass.”
“I was sent by our mother, I’ll have you know.” Ida crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her head to one side. “It is nearly midday.”
“Speak her message and leave my room.”
“Mother wants you to know dinner is early tonight, and she expects you there,” Ida said. “Parnell wants to know if you plan on jousting tomorrow.”
“Fine and yes,” Branford said with a snarl. “Anything else?”
“I would like to…” Ida’s voice trailed off, and I saw her lean to the side so she could see me better. “This afternoon, if Alexandra would allow me, that is, I would like to help her prepare.”
Branford’s eyes turned to mine.
“Alexandra?” he asked softly.
“I would like that,” I replied.
“I shall bring her to the Women’s Room later,” Branford snapped over his shoulder. “Now get out!”
Ida sighed, and from my view under Branford’s arm, I could see her smile as she turned to leave. As the door slammed shut, Branford groaned heavily and dropped his head next to mine on the pillow. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, hoping his ire over his sister’s actions was not too great. He lay still on top of me, his breathing slowly calming as I touched him. Minutes passed, and I felt his head turn and his lips press against my shoulder.
“She is infuriating,” he mumbled. “Perhaps it is for the best since I have likely worn you out by now anyway. I should give you time to rest.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Though I felt I could close my eyes and sleep peacefully the remainder of the day, I also welcomed the feeling of his warm skin against mine. The sense of safety—security—I felt in his embrace overwhelmed me. It was incongruous, these feelings I had, for though I desired his touch, I was still fearful of his temper.
Branford sighed again and raised himself up on his arms. He kissed my lips and then my chin before rolling off of me and sitting on the edge of the bed. I watched him get up and dress himself slowly, and then I followed his lead.
“She wants to make amends,” Branford said. “She blames herself for what Kimberly and Nelle did to you.”
“It was not her fault,” I whispered as I laced up the front of my dress. It was not a topic I wanted to bring up again. Indeed, I wanted to completely forget it had ever happened, but I did not think that would transpire. Everyone had seen me like that—the entire court.
“She still wishes to set it right.”
“There is no need—”
“Just allow her to help,” Branford said, interrupting me. I nodded quickly, and the topic was thankfully dismissed. We both finished dressing, and Branford clasped his sword around his waist. He turned to me, and his gaze traveled slowly up and down my body. I blushed, and he smiled. I was glad Branford’s mood didn’t seem to be completely soured by his sister’s intrusion though he did say he would speak with her about it again. When I inquired, he explained the doors of the royals’ chambers were never barred but guarded instead since barring the door would not allow friendly forces to assist if someone were to get into the rooms.
“Will Dunstan always be at our door, then?” I asked.
“No, the guards who patrol constantly are quite a bit more subtle. I will show you when we head out.”
“Out?” I inquired.
“I want to buy you something,” Branford said with a shrug. “We shall go to the marketplace.”
“Buy me something?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes. “Why?”
“Because I have never bought anything for my wife, and I want to do so,” he said simply.
With that, he donned his jacket, placed my cloak around my shoulders, and led me out into the hallway. He took me to a space directly across from the door where a portrait of a man in royal robes was hanging on the wall. Branford identified him as Camden’s great-grandfather and then pointed to a barely noticeable slit in the wall up the side of the painting. If I had not been told to look there, I would have passed over it, but it was large enough for an arrow to be shot from the other side of the wall. Branford had me peer in, and I could see a man behind the slit, hiding in the darkness. I gasped as the man’s eyes shone out of the blackness.
“There is an entrance behind the staircase,” Branford said. “Guards are always inside the walls.”
Dunstan was no longer waiting at our doorway, and it was rather nice to not think about someone following us. For the most part, I was glad for Dunstan’s sake. I did not want him to feel Branford’s wrath again. Branford took my arm and led me to the marketplace just outside the castle walls, and we strolled through the merchants’ shops and stalls.
We stopped to see how Amarra and her pups were doing, and they seemed quite well. It would be only a few weeks before the pups could be weaned, and Amarra could come and get used to her new home. Branford was visibly excited by the thought though I was unsure how I felt about having a dog in our chambers. When I approached Amarra, I was surprised to have the dog lick my hand. I cried out in surprise, and Branford thought my shock was wonderfully funny but managed to control his laughter long enough to wipe off my hand with his handkerchief and kiss the top of my head.
Taking my arm again, Branford walked us slowly around various merchants’ carts, asking me over and over again what I desired. I had never in my life had someone buy something for me, simple or extravagant, and I had never tried to think of something that I might just want and not need. Branford was growing frustrated with my lack of input and finally threatened to buy me one of everything if I did not indicate something I liked. Eventually, he pulled me over to a lavish display of jewelry laid out on a table with a bright blue covering. The woman behind the array beamed at him and seemed to have difficulty addressing him as she looked to his face. Branford told her I was in need of jewelry and to help me choose something. Everything on the table was so beautiful, I had no idea where to even start looking. All the necklaces and bracelets on display were truly wondrous. After seve
ral minutes of the merchant showing me different pieces, and me refusing because they all seemed so extravagant, Branford leaned over my shoulder.
“If you do not choose something,” Branford threatened with a smile, “I am going to choose something for you. Probably many ‘somethings.’ Maybe all of them.”
I nodded and bit my lip, finally pointing to a necklace. It held at the end of its chain five stone pendants—three of deep black onyx and two made of bright yellow stones that separated the black ones.
“You like that one?” Branford said.
“It resembles the colors of your banner,” I replied in explanation. He nodded, seemingly pleased, and tossed a handful of coins at the merchant. He lifted the necklace into his hands and reached behind my neck to clasp the necklace there. With his fingers, he traced down the chain to the stones at the end and lifted the largest one in the center, letting it shine in his hand. He smiled at me and briefly kissed my lips before we continued.
We walked a little farther down the main section of the market, and Branford stopped to admire a blacksmith’s wares for a while. After a few minutes of listening to him speak to the smith, I noticed a cart of fabrics and took the few short steps away to get a better look at them. There were many different fabrics in the cart, including some brightly colored silks, which were absolutely lovely. After I had admired the feeling of the cloth on my fingers, I felt Branford come up behind me, and his hands gripped my waist. He leaned over my shoulder and spoke.
“Do you enjoy sewing?” Branford asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you want that?” He reached around and pointed to the beautiful silk fabrics. “You could make anything you like from it. Or I can have someone make something for you.”
“Oh, that would not be necessary,” I said quickly.
I felt Branford’s fingers grip my chin.
“I want to do that, Alexandra,” Branford said, sounding annoyed. “That is our reason for being here—so I can buy things for you.”
His gaze and tone softened somewhat as he looked down at me. Then his half smile appeared.
“I have never had a wife before, Alexandra,” he said playfully. I looked up at him and saw the tyrant had been immediately replaced by the handsome boy again. “Do not spoil my fun as I spoil you.”
I had not really considered that he would get joy out of spoiling me though when I thought about it, there was logic to his reasons. I had already found how much I liked to do things for him, such as making his tea and shaving his face. It made sense that he might find pleasure in buying something for me. I nodded slightly, and Branford released my chin. I turned back to the fabric and touched it with my fingertips.
“It is very soft,” I said, “and pretty.”
“Then it is yours,” he said simply. “What is your favorite color?”
I turned my head and was instantly caught up by his eyes as he looked at me, awaiting my response. Without thinking, I said my favorite color was green and then felt my face blush.
“Green?” Branford questioned.
“Yes.”
“Why green?” He looked down at me and used his hands to pull me back against his chest. I blushed and looked away.
“No reason,” I said quietly.
“Tell me!” he demanded as he turned me around to face him.
“It is, um…the color of your eyes,” I finally told him. A slow smile crept across his face as he turned to the merchant and bought all the green fabric on the cart, silk or otherwise. The merchant’s eyes grew wide as Branford deposited several gold coins in his hand, and he promised to have the fabrics sent up to our rooms.
Branford was still smiling to himself as we walked away, and I was glad to have found something that seemed to please him. He wrapped my arm around his and we started back toward the castle gates. When we came around the last of the merchants’ carts, Branford asked me if I wanted to eat something before he took me to Ida. He unexpectedly stopped short.
Branford’s hand tensed over the top of my fingers, gripping them tightly as his feet abruptly stopped moving forward. I had been looking off to the side and did not immediately see what caused him to stop so quickly. I glanced at my husband’s face, his eyes dark with unbridled fury as the tyrant returned, and the handsome boy disappeared. As I turned to see the object of his ire, I was met with the malicious grin of Lady Kimberly with her sister, Nelle, at her side. I suddenly could not breathe and felt a hard lump lodge in my throat, preventing me from swallowing as well.
“Sir Branford. Alexandra.” Kimberly sneered my name, and her voice sounded like warm butter. I looked to the ground, vaguely aware that she had addressed me with no title. Her sister stepped from around the last cart and stood at her side, smirking. “I have not seen you since the reception.”
I felt Branford tense, not just in his arm where I held him, but I could feel it all the way up his shoulder, and I could see it in his jaw when I looked up to his face.
“Kimberly, Nelle,” Branford spoke slowly, enunciating each and every syllable. “You have exactly one chance and one chance only. Retrieve whatever possessions you have acquired, find yourself transport, and get the hell out of my kingdom.”
“Oh, Branford.” Kimberly sighed and rolled her eyes. “Always so dramatic. We were only having a bit of fun—”
“Let me be perfectly clear,” Branford said, his voice turning low and deep. His words had not been loud, but there was a distinct murmur of hushed voices and the movement of bodies pressing closer to hear what was being said. “If I encounter you after midday tomorrow, I will have you both beheaded. Understood?”
“Branford!” Kimberly’s hand went to her breast and her mouth dropped open. “Why in the world—”
“No one”—Branford suddenly yelled, causing me to flinch. He squeezed his hands into fists and dropped his voice low again, each word separated and whispered through his tight, clenched jaw—“no one…insults…my…wife.”
The sounds of the hustle and bustle of the market around us had completely ceased, and I could have sworn even the wind chose that time to stop blowing about the field. Kimberly’s eyes went wide for a moment before they narrowed at me, and she laughed out loud. It was a hard, cruel sound, and it sent shivers up my spine.
“Your wife.” Kimberly sneered and rolled her eyes again. “You know as well as I that Princess Whitney gets what she wants in the end. Do you really think—?”
“Your opinion in this matter is not of any interest to me,” Branford said with a growl. “I want you out. Now.”
“Your mother took us in.” Kimberly smirked at him. “She promised to—”
“My mother is dead!” Branford screamed at her, and she flinched, taking a step backward. His voice dropped back low. “Not all of her decisions in life were good ones. You rely on my good will now, and my patience is gone. Now apologize to my wife and get out.”
She huffed, narrowing her eyes before briefly glancing at me. Her lips turned up into a terrifying, toothy smile. I pressed my body instinctively against Branford’s side.
“Alexandra”—Kimberly turned her head to the side and tilted it, looking at me with contempt and loathing—“surely you understand it was only in jest. It was still a prettier outfit than the one you were wearing when you arrived, and no harm was—”
I tried to step back to distance myself, but Branford kept his grip on me, holding me in place.
“Kimberly,” Nelle whispered as she reached for her sister’s hand.
Everything happened so quickly, I wasn't sure how I went from holding Branford's arm to suddenly being behind him, held at arm's length. My ears barely registered the scrape of metal as he drew his sword, but it was suddenly placed against the pale skin of Lady Kimberly’s neck.
“Do not make a move,” he said with a snarl. “Do not move a damned inch, or I’ll take your head from your shoulders right now.”
“Branford, how dare you—”
“Silence!” His voice th
undered the command, and Kimberly’s mouth closed with a snap. “Apologize to my wife.”
“I am not about to lower myself to apologize to some handmaid!” Kimberly screeched, and the silence around the marketplace was replaced by a simultaneous gasp from the onlookers.
Lady Kimberly’s words stopped abruptly, and her eyes went wider for a moment before she went perfectly still. She seemed to stare with unfocused eyes at Branford’s hand as it gripped the hilt of the sword. She whimpered slightly, and I could see her hands begin to shake. A moment later, a slight trickle of red flowed from the edge of the sword where it met her slender neck.
“Drop to your knees—both of you.”
I held my breath as Kimberly’s glazed eyes looked toward me as she slowly lowered herself into the muddy ground below with Nelle at her side. As she moved, Branford’s sword moved with her, keeping its deadly position near the artery in her neck.
“Your life is in jeopardy,” Branford said between his teeth. “Don’t push me any further. You live only because I honor the memory of my mother and her wishes. Say one more contrary word—anything—to my wife, and I will end you.”
Lady Kimberly stared at him, wide-eyed and unmoving. The blade at her neck remained completely steady though I could feel the tension from Branford’s body through his grip on my arm.
“Apologize,” Branford demanded again. “If Alexandra accepts your apology, you will keep your head, so I suggest you make it a good one. If she doesn’t accept, I will end your life right here and now.”
I watched her gaze turn to mine, and her tongue flicked quickly over her lips before she spoke.
“My humblest apologies for my words, Lady Alexandra.” Kimberly’s voice was strained. I could see her throat bob as she swallowed hard. Branford continued to glare down at her. “And we, um…we never should have put you in that…that dress.”
“I am sorry, too,” Nelle said softly. She could not look up at me as she spoke.
“Alexandra,” Branford said quietly without turning toward me. “Do you accept?”