by Daya Daniels
My heart lurches in my chest when her beautiful eyes sweep over me the way they do.
“I cannot let such treason go unpunished.” I breathe. “It will only lead to the toppling of this entire kingdom if it goes unaddressed. I have made my decision and I do not plan to take back my orders.”
Face contorted, she steps forward. “Alexander, she is your mother.”
“AND HE WAS MY FATHER!”
Briar jumps back at my volume.
“I expected you to agree with this.” A scowl stitches its way into my face. “I believed you would understand. All of this has caused so much pain from the crown landing on my head without me knowing entirely if I could carry it, to the pathetic excuse of a marriage you once had with my brother, to your eternally broken heart…” My gaze fixes on her eyes.
It is not something one can hide.
The pain…
The loss…
The grief.
Although I know this woman loves every fiber of my being, there will always be a large piece of her heart which will always ache for him—for my father. His death severed their love in this world. But it did not their love from carrying on into the next. Briar was never given the chance to say goodbye. She has no answers.
How can she be happy with that?
I frown. “This is for you too, Briar.”
Covering her mouth with a hand, she shakes her head.
“This is for you. This is for us. This is for the House of Montforthe-Bryon. This is for England.” I beg her to understand.
A tear runs down her cheek hot and fast. “I cannot…I will not support this, Alexander.”
I step forward.
Holding a hand out, Briar backs away and I am fucking offended.
A staggered breath rips from me—one which causes my chest to rise then fall.
This is unbelievable.
I am being judged right where I stand like a peasant.
Indignation ripples across my brow. “There is no other way…”
“I just cannot.” She struggles for air.
“There-is-no-other-way.” My top lip curls up into full-on snarl.
She shakes her head. “I just cannot agree with this, Alexander.” Her voice comes softly.
Delicately.
Tenderly.
Beautifully.
As if we are speaking about something pleasant, although the black taste of death is on the tips of our tongues.
Silence settles between us and slowly my eyes flicker up to meet hers. “Very well, but you don’t have to agree with this. It changes nothing. The absence of your acquiescence changes nothing. I am very sorry, but I have made my decision and I plan to live with it.”
Briar
LATER THAT NIGHT…
Hand over my belly, I wend through the dark passageways of Berkhamsted Castle, and although I know them so well, tonight, I hold a torch in my hand which lights the way.
The rats scurry out of my path and the flames cast shadows along the stone.
“Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum…” I mutter the Lord’s prayer in Latin as I walk ahead, taking tentative steps, wanting to go back to the light but somehow desperately needing to satisfy my heart with what it wishes to know.
I cannot continue to live without knowing.
I must know. I must know. I must know.
Having no answers up until now has proven tortuous.
Before I made it through the gates which led me here, I was stopped by the guards who with apprehension in their eyes told me that the King had given them strict orders that no one was to proceed through those iron gates. I put on a smile and reminded one of the men about how I had once nursed his sister back to health after she’d been afflicted with whooping cough, and with much regret etched into his expression, he allowed me to pass and promised to keep it a secret.
I admire his loyalty but still, I feared for him.
As we all know what happens to loyal guards behind the walls of Berkhamsted Castle…
Still, his fate to me meant little when I thought of the task at hand.
I do not have much time left.
May God forgive me for being so selfish.
Now, I stride ahead, purpose and conviction propelling my heart to beat harder and for my breaths to quicken. I could be driven by ignorance…Maybe even desperation. Whatever it is, it has no name…
When I round a corner, my eyes narrow and then I pause.
It is silent.
Cold.
Empty.
I hold the torch aloft hoping to cast light beyond the iron bars, but I see nothing at first and my eyes continue to search beneath the dim light.
“I am here.” Her voice fills this dungeon.
I still do not see her, and then almost magically, her silhouette comes into view and then her face.
Instinctively, I take a step back.
Pale fingers grip the iron bars and big eyes stare back at me.
The Queen Mother looks well considering the circumstances. She has lost weight though and from what I can tell a huge chunk of her spirit has been chiseled away. It is clear she has been fed and taken care of although she has been placed here for what seems like far too long. But still, she has lost much.
Those eyes of hers regard me. “You are with child.”
“Yes.”
A tiny smile tugs at her lips but she does not congratulate me or tell me that one day I would make a wonderful mother. Not that I expect her to. But that little hint of satisfaction which showed on her features only a moment ago told me that she is pleased about her son having an heir and that the bloodline of the House of Montforthe-Byron would carry on.
“You look well.” She smiles.
A swift breeze affects the burning torch and makes the flames dance, but they don’t go out.
The Queen Mother laughs softly. “Of all the people I expected to see tonight, if I could ever have imagined that this night would come, Briar, I never would have guessed it would be you.”
We both know the meaning of her statement.
It needs no further interpretation.
She smiles.
I swallow down dread and shame, but still, I cannot admit regret.
“I would do anything to see my sons.”
“I know.” I lower my head.
“I love them.”
“I know.” Pulling the Holy Bible from the pocket of my dress, I show it to her.
“Do you expect me to pray, Briar?”
Yes.
“In my last moments on this earth, you expect me to pray?” She scoffs.
Yes.
“God-is-not-here.”
“He is.” My eyes bulge with the words.
She laughs. “God has not been behind the walls of Berkhamsted Castle since it was built.”
I say nothing, only regard her.
“Did you come here to make your peace with me before I go?” Her eyes fill with tears.
“Yes.”
“But you came here for something else?” She sends me a look. “You came here for something more than obtaining my pardon for your transgressions.” Anger flares from her but it is the weak kind.
With a breath, I look away from her and then slowly I dare to meet her eyes again. “I need to know.”
The Queen Mother jerks her head away from my direction in disgust then paces the large space behind the bars.
“I am sorry, but I need to know.” I tremor from frustration and fear.
She rushes back to the bars and grips them with force. “Whyyyyy?”
“Because I loved him.” I weep. “I am sorry, but I loved him.”
Her lips flatten out and annoyance takes over her expression. “Yes, I know you did. And he loved you.”
I know. I know. I know.
“Is that why you took him away?” The question leaves me in a desperate fashion.
The Queen Mother disappears beneath the shadow of the darkness for a long moment. So long that I wonder if she is even there anymore until her soft cries fill my ears. She weeps. Alone and cold, she cries.
“I am sorry.”
“I always wanted my husband to love me.” Her voice cracks. “Always.”
“I am sorry.” A tear dribbles down my cheek.
“I always wanted him to desire me.”
“I am sorry.”
“I adored him.”
I did too.
“I am sorry.” They are the only words I can offer.
“I drowned those girls, searching for the one, Briar. While searching for you, I drowned those girls.”
I weep.
“How could I not have known it was you?” The gentle laugh she lets out is only meant for her.
Because I was nothing then…
Just an orphan.
A handmaid.
A ghost.
Remaining silent, I stare at the stone beneath my shoes. “You must tell me what happened that night?”
Her big eyes pop out of the darkness and force me to take a step back. “You have denied me so much…Do you truly think I would let your heart rest by telling you about the very things that make my soul know it should shudder when it gets to Hell?”
I hope.
I dream.
I pray this woman will tell me something.
“I should hope that you would repent, and part of repenting is admitting the truth.”
She laughs an arrogant laugh. “I WILL NEVER.”
An exhale of frustration exits me and filters out into the cold air and with this woman’s stubbornness I am inclined to put this torch to her dress and end it all here and now.
“I will not submit to you.” She practically spits the words.
“Will you submit to Alexander then?”
Her eyes bulge. “Alexander does not seek the answers you wish for yourself. All Alexander is consumed with is revenge. He loved his father so dearly…But, I consider what is best for my son and for this kingdom.”
He was not ready.
He was not ready.
He was not ready.
Her answers are vague and unfuckingsatisfactory.
Tilting my head to the side, I sink into the pathetic sight of the woman I once feared. “You hated your husband because he loved me.”
“No, I hated my husband because he-didn’t-love-me.” Her entire face tightens.
A startled laugh leaves me at the effect of her words. It is offense. It is surprise. It is shock at her ability to be so cutting at a time like this. Still, it feels like she is reaching right down in my soul and rearranging things which should never be touched!
I am a queen.
Yet, in her eyes, still I am nothing.
Her explanation is more than enough…
A woman such as this one is too arrogant to ever admit jealously and especially not of a woman like me.
Her hatred of her husband was never about me.
It has always been about her…
I tip my chin and hold it high making sure she sees.
She paces. “Alexander is a lot like his father, always searching for the best and the good in people but the truth is that they always disappoint you. Always.” A humorless laugh drifts from her. “I pray you do not disappoint Alexander as I have because you will spend the rest of your life trying to make it up to him.” Slowly, she retreats and is swallowed up by the darkness.
“Please, just tell me!” My fingers curl around the cold iron bars.
I need to know exactly what happened that night…
But, there is silence and it only drives my screams. “Please, I need to know! I beg you!”
Nothing.
“I NEED TO KNOW!”
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
It is excruciating silence…
She is gone.
“MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL!” I weep like never before.
The Queen Mother may be condemned to death, but without her full admission and repentance, the rest of us have been cast a far worse fate…
Still, our hearts will remain heavy for the loss of a man—a king—who is nonpareil.
Alexander
I PULL HER CLOSE to my chest ensuring she feels my heartbeat…
Long mahogany tendrils fan out over the white sheets. A wail drifts from her parted lips and slips out into the air. Her body, made of delicate bones and soft, soft skin all but melds to me.
We are in sync.
We are here, together.
We are tethered.
Night has fallen.
A candle which rests on a table in the corner of the room flickers with the last of its light. And beyond the window is the breathtaking landscape of the country which I hold dear to my heart. A bright moon shines down on the grounds beyond these walls. The white stars in the sky twinkle. Everything is calm tonight including Raven Forest.
When Briar’s mewls fill my ears, my cock swells even more…
I’d do anything to take her away from the pain which she is reluctant to admit she holds in her heart.
But I will take it away, away, away.
I bury my lips in the soft fragrant skin on her neck and inhale.
A shaky hand crawls up her side and settles on mine, fingers intertwining.
With an arm draped over her side, I palm her belly and continue with my stroke with a groan. Slowly, relentlessly, my hips buck chasing pleasure. Our flesh collides. Sweat slicks the skin between us and it smells oh so bloody sweet. I hold my wife, my rose, my queen tighter against my chest.
A pale rump ripples with my efforts and her wetness surrounds me.
“I love you.” My tongue runs along the shell of her hot ear and I nip at the flesh with my teeth. “I love you.”
She wails!
Her pussy clenches.
The sensation robs me of all fucking composure!
The room falls into darkness when the candle burns out…
Stripes of moonlight crisscross this room and illuminate our bodies as we writhe and twist.
A groan explodes from my chest, and with purpose, my hand slides along the length of her thigh, over soft and pale flesh and settles between them. I stroke that perfect spot, encouraging her lips to part and whimpers to leave her throat helplessly. “I love you.” The words are growled into her sweaty skin.
Briar moans, her beautiful hazel eyes grow big, adjusting to the darkness, and her lips remain parted.
I can feel everything.
Her sinking mood.
Her sadness.
Her longing for the answers she will forever be denied of.
The way her heart hammers and cracks and cracks and cracks.
Shifting, I loom over her, gaze into her eyes and cup her warm cheek.
A tear slips from her eye and lands on the ruffled sheets beneath us. “I loved him.”
I know. I know. I know.
I loved him too.
“I love you.” I deliver a punishing kiss to her lips—wet, greedy, consuming—before I let her go.
She makes the prior confession to me over and over and over.
And I keep fucking her, losing myself and taking her with me.
My hand is planted on her hip, and with a rumble which explodes in my chest, I plow into her pussy, going deeper and deeper and she wraps tighter and tighter around my swollen flesh offering the perfect mixture of pleasure and agony.
A line of sweat drips down my chest with the effort.
When Briar’s fingers run along it, they are fire along my flesh, burning and burning and burning.
My soul aches.
My heart is destroyed.
My future is with the woman who lies with me.
I have pledged forever to her.
To protect her. To treasure her. To love her for all the d
ays of my life.
I peer into her eyes not needing her to say anything at all for right now she is broken and hurt and seeking solace in the comfort of my arms and beneath my ministrations which only convey how much I love her.
Her lashes flutter. Her eyes become bright. Her gaze is unfocused.
She is beautiful.
A masterpiece.
A pretty, pretty rose.
But my attention gets snatched away by the sight across the room…
The handkerchief…
The one from my nightmares…
The one Briar had pulled from her dress and given me on that seemingly perfect night.
It glows.
Whatever is contained inside it glows.
It’s the flower.
The most beautiful ghost orchid I’ve ever seen before.
How could it be possible?
With a knowing look and calmness in her eyes, Briar’s soft palm touches my cheek and guides my attention back to her and then I am deep in the effort again, fucking, fucking, fucking, and pondering with much hope if it is possible at all by God’s will to impregnant her twice.
Ragged breaths leave me. My chest heaves. Animalistic moans explode through this chamber.
Plowing into her wetness and sinking into her depths, I get lost.
I never want to return.
Briar
I AM IN THE clutches of sixteen stones’ worth of man. Large hands rove over my flesh. His soft beard brushes over my skin when he rains kisses down and along my shoulder.
We twist in the sheets.
He surrounds me.
My sweaty back is planted to his chest.
With each stroke, I’m vaulted upward and toward the ornate headboard of this massive bed.
He clutches my chin and guides my mouth to his, and with his gray gaze lingering on mine, I am taken down by the most soul-stripping kiss. All I could ever wish for is injected into it—his respect, his love, his forgiveness. And in this moment, I need it all. Gentle hands brush over my skin and no matter what happens with the other, one always remains on my belly, smoothing and caressing, almost with pride.
We are having a child.
I am carrying our child.
I have been tasked with protecting the future of England—this man’s heir—this man’s blood.
Alexander draws my nipple into his mouth, savoring it, tasting it, and then after a moan leaves him, his lips settle along my neck and waves of his hair fall out along my skin. When his stroke becomes more relentless, I steady myself against him, holding on, fingers digging into his skin attempting to find purchase.