I woke again to the warmth of my husband’s embrace.

When we had lain down to sleep, Branford had kept his distance.  He had reached over to grasp my hand and place a small kiss on my knuckles before wishing me good night, but I had not fallen asleep in his arms as I had the two nights prior.  Regardless, that’s where I found myself in the morning, unsure of how I had arrived in such a position but not feeling uneasy about it.  Like it had been before, his embrace felt comfortable and reassuring even when his words and actions did not.

The fire still burned brightly, so I knew I hadn’t slept for long.  Under my head, I could feel the increased rate of Branford’s heart and the nearly gasping breaths he took.  I turned to look into his face and could see his eyes moving quickly under their lids and the hard set of his jaw.  His lips were parted slightly as he breathed much too rapidly for peaceful sleep.

I reached up and slowly stroked the side of his face.  He flinched when I first touched him and then slowly relaxed.  I felt the constricted muscles of his arms and chest as they loosened, and his breath and pounding heart gradually returned to a more normal sleeping rate.  He turned his head into my hand, and he let out one last, heavy sigh as his arms tightened around me briefly.

I took my own deep breath and settled back against him but kept my hand resting against his cheek.  I wondered what dream he may have had to cause such a reaction in him or if he would remember it when he woke in the morning.  I hoped he would not because even now that he had relaxed, his face was still tight, and he did not appear the least bit peaceful.  I let my eyes flutter shut and listened to the sounds of my husband’s deep breathing as I drifted back to sleep.

The next time I opened my eyes, I could see the dim light from the windows and feel Branford’s hand as it traveled over the top of my head and down my hair, slowly stroking the strands from top to bottom.  As I had before, I for fear of his touch to engulf me, but lying here in our bed, there was none.  I blinked my eyes a few times to get used to the light and then looked up into Branford’s gaze.

The expression in his eyes was difficult to determine—a strange cross between concern, hope, and trepidation.  He flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip, and his hand paused in its movements on my hair.

“Good morning, Alexandra,” he finally said.

“Good morning, Branford,” I replied.  “Did you sleep well?”

“No,” he answered immediately, “but waking up was still a very pleasant experience.”

I felt the heat rise to my face.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Branford asked.  “It wasn’t my intent to sleep this way.  You rolled over and…well, here we are.”

“It’s all right,” I said, feeling the heat in my face increasing.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

“Not right now,” I answered as truthfully as I could.

“Even after what I have done?”

I didn’t answer because I had no words for it.  Yes, I was still afraid of him.  I was afraid of that part of him that seemed so quick to anger without reason.  However, lying here with his arms around me, I could feel how the strength of him was also for my benefit.

“I feel…safe here…in your arms.”

“I want you to feel safe,” Branford said.  “Protecting you is very important to me.”

Of all the other things he had said, this was the one remark that rang the truest to my ears.

“I didn’t protect you yesterday”—Branford’s arms tightened a little—“not from Kimberly or Nelle and not from myself either.  It’s the one part of being a husband I thought I knew how to do.”

Again, he brought his fingers to my chin and tilted my head to look at him.

“I will do better,” he said in earnest.  “You will never be without trusted protection again.”

I could only nod in response, which shifted my head away from his touch.  He stroked his hand back down my arm and eventually to my fingers.  He brought them to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

“I promise,” he said, and I tried to make myself believe him.

I excused myself to dress and saw the offending garment was no longer on the floor behind the screen.  I wondered what Branford had done with it, but mostly I was glad it was no longer within my sight.  Perhaps he had burned the horrible thing.  I would not have minded.

As I removed my nightdress and pulled on my clothing for the day, I winced a little as the fabric brushed over my shoulder.  I remembered scraping my skin on the stone wall and had to swallow hard before I could draw proper breath again.  I chanced a look at my right arm where Branford’s fingers had gripped me so hard.  There were distinct bruises on my skin though they weren’t bad and wouldn’t last but a few days.  I had certainly had worse at Princess Whitney’s hand, and that had been just for being in the way and not for suspected treachery.

Breakfast was delivered shortly after we woke.  Branford was visibly annoyed to have breakfast brought to us instead of being able to head out of the rooms, but he sighed and finally opened the door.  As the line of servants entered, carrying trays of fragrant foods, Branford was obviously on edge—his eyes darting back and forth between them as they entered, fulfilled their tasks, and then quickly moved around Branford and back out the door.  They averted their eyes from him, I noticed, and seemed to be very eager to complete their duties and get out of his way.  I remembered another lord in Hadebrand who was often approached the same way—with head down and a wish to remain invisible.  He was known to strike servants for not being quick enough or diligent enough.  I wondered if Branford was the same way.

I made a point of thanking the last servant—a girl not much younger than I—and she nodded quickly before scurrying off.  As she left the rooms, I noticed the broken couch and table were no longer in the morning room.  In fact, another couch and chair were already in their places.

We sat down in the plush chairs near the fire, our meals on our laps, eating in silence as the sun rose higher in the sky, and light poured through the windows.  I was famished, having not managed to eat anything the night before.  If I had tried at that time, my stomach probably would not have been able to digest anything without causing me pain.  I considered asking Branford who had cleaned up the remnants of his ire but determined that course of action to be less than advantageous.  Instead, I ate my meal with only the occasional glance at my husband.  Every time I looked at him, he was looking back at me.  He did not appear to be eating his breakfast, but mostly shuffling the food around in a circle.

Branford finally stopped playing around with his breakfast, set the plate off to one side, and let out a deep sigh.  He stretched his neck, shuffled his feet, and then repositioned himself in his chair.  He looked at me, then out the window, then back at me again.  He stood abruptly, went to the window to stare out into the sky, and then sat himself back down in the chair across from me.

“Sunniva said I had to tell you…tell you about why…”  He stopped and looked down at his hands in his lap.  He sighed once more and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them again, he appeared determined.  “She said I needed to tell you about my parents and what happened to them.”

I nodded, not daring to speak.  I wasn’t sure I wished to hear this story, especially given Branford’s reluctance to tell it, but the queen seemed to think it was important for him to tell me, so I chose not to dissuade him with any words at all.

“This is not something I talk about,” Branford said solemnly.  “Not even with Ida.”

Branford was silent for a while, and I sat looking at my lap and fidgeting.  I resisted the urge to tell him he did not have to speak of it since I knew Queen Sunniva had ordered him to do so.  I continued to hold my tongue and waited for him to continue.

“I was seven years old,” Branford said.  “My birthday had been celebrated just a few weeks prior.  Ida was ill, and she and I were both to stay behind with our nursemaid when our parents were to travel to Sawyer for the summer assemblage of all the neighboring courts.  Normally, Ida and I would have gone with them, but they seemed to think since Ida was sick, we should both stay behind.  I was angry—I had a bit of a temper then, too—and did not want to be left behind.  When no one was looking, I climbed in the carriage and hid under a blanket.”

Branford chuckled softly to himself.

“I don’t know why I thought I wouldn’t be seen, sitting in the middle of the floor with a blanket over my head.  When my parents got in the carriage, they knew I was there immediately, of course.  My mother sighed and scolded me, then picked me up and sat me down beside her.  My father called out to the driver—I don’t recall his name, only that he had been driving for them as long as I could remember—and we started off.  Four guards on horseback rode in groups of two on either side of us.”

“The guards were named Dalton, Kolby, Yagmur and Salik.”  Branford shifted slightly in his seat.  “I remember them all quite well.  At least one of them had been by my side since I was a toddler, watching over me and making sure I was safe wherever I went.  They watched over Ida, my parents—the entire household.  Even Kimberly and Nelle, when they came to live with us.”

“They lived with you as children?” I asked, immediately regretting my interruption, but the words were already out.

“Yes,” Branford said.  “Their mother was my mother’s sister.  Her husband had already passed, and she fell ill—one of the first to die of the plague that would later be linked to the destruction of Eagle—and her daughters came to live with us.  My mother swore to her sister she would raise her daughters as her own and that they would always be cared for and protected.  It was the final wish of my aunt, and my mother promised to honor it.”

He huffed a breath out his nose and then continued.

“Dalton and Kolby were younger than Yagmur and Salik and usually kept close to me when I was out.  They taught me the basics of sword fighting when I was quite young—archery, too, though I was never very good at it.  Salik taught me to ride, and Yagmur lectured me constantly on the duties of a young lord and what would be expected of me as I came of age.  In the years they were with us, they were like members of our family.  It was like I had four extra fathers or maybe favorite uncles.  I looked up to each and every one of them and went to bed every night, feeling secure that they were watching over us and keeping us safe.”

“My father trusted them implicitly,” Branford said.  “I remember when Dalton was showing me just how good he was with a bow, and in his hand, my father held out an apple for Dalton to shoot.  He split it in half, and we planted the seeds after we ate it.  One of the trees still grows just outside Sterling Castle.”

“We had been on the road no more than a couple of hours—not even half the trip—when my father glanced out the window and called up to the driver.  I don’t remember exactly what he said, only that he didn’t think we were on the right road any longer.  He thought the driver had taken a wrong turn.  I remember him calling out for Dalton and Salik—they were riding on his side of the carriage—and asking for an explanation.”

“The carriage started to slow down, and my mother said…”

Branford stopped, and I watched his hands ball into fists as his breathing became more labored.

“She said,” he went on, “that something didn’t feel right.  She said she could hear more horses riding behind us.”

He paused.  He slowly forced his fingers open and then rubbed his palms down the top of his thighs.

“The carriage slowed and then stopped.  I could hear Yagmur telling my father he should come outside.  He said they had things to discuss.  My mother told him she didn’t like it.  She said again that something wasn’t right.  When my father went out, I heard him yelling at someone, asking whoever it was what he was doing there.  Then Yagmur called for my mother to come out as well.  I remember the look in her eyes.  It was like she knew.  I think she did know.  She stood up and grabbed me by the arm immediately, hauling me to my feet.  I started to complain—I didn’t understand what was going on—but she was frantic, speaking quietly but urgently into my ear.  She told me not to speak—not to utter a single sound, no matter what.  She made me swear to God I would be silent.  The bench seat of the carriage could be lifted, and there was a storage area inside of it.  My mother opened up the bench, and then she shoved me underneath, shutting the lid on top of me.

“I couldn’t hear well from inside.  I remember it was hot and cramped, but I didn’t move, and I didn’t make a sound.  I heard voices—that of my father, yelling, and other voices I didn’t recognize.  Then I heard my mother scream my father’s name, over and over again, and I had to remind myself she wasn’t calling for me.  Then I heard laughter, and for a while, she was silent.  I could hear talking, more laughing and other…sounds.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  I could hear her voice, but it was muffled.  I knew she was crying, but I think she was just trying not to make any sounds.  I think…I think she just didn’t want me to hear…to hear…”

Again he stopped, and his hands covered his face.

“I heard the door of the carriage open and Dalton and Kolby’s voices.  They didn’t say much, just that there was nothing of value inside, and they needed to get moving quickly.  Then I heard horses riding around the carriage and then riding off.  They didn’t realize I was there, you see.  They hadn’t seen me get inside the carriage.  They believed me to have stayed home with my ill sister.”

“I don’t know how long I stayed there.  Eventually, there were no more sounds, but I still didn’t move.  My mother told me to stay, and I wasn’t going anywhere until she came to get me.  I could tell when the sun set because the inside of the bench became black as pitch.  I just lay there, trying to be as silent as I could—trying to obey my mother’s words.  I probably dozed off for a while, but sometime in the night, I heard horses again.  I recognized the voice outside, but I still didn’t move.  I might have just stayed in there forever, but when I heard a certain word uttered…well, I knew I should come out.  It was our family’s secret word, I guess you would say.  When I heard it, I knew it was safe to come out again.”

“Lord Sawyer’s head was sticking through the carriage door.  He saw me as I climbed out, thanked God that I stilled lived, and then told me to stay right where I was.  I kept asking for my mother—asking where she was, but he wouldn’t tell me.  The next day, they finally told me my parents were both dead.  It was years before I found out the rest—what they had done to her.”

I knew what he was going to say before he finally let the words escape his mouth.

“Father had been killed by sword.  They told me he died quickly.  But my mother…she…she had been…brutalized repeatedly before they beat her to death.  She was raped and murdered by our most trusted servants while I was hiding inside the bench in the carriage.  They were killed by those I had admired the most.  By the time Ida and the rest of the household were retrieved and brought to Sawyer, Edgar’s army had already begun to seize Sterling lands.  He could not lay claim to the castle because I still lived, and the Church wouldn’t allow it—but all the other outlying areas—Sterling Village, Wynton, Eagle, Yeager—they all fell into Hadebrand’s hands.”

Branford stared silently at his hands for several minutes.  I didn’t know what I should do or say, and I was afraid to make a move.

“I don’t allow servants in these rooms on any kind of regular basis,” Branford finally said.  “Ramona is allowed in here sometimes because Ida says the place will be filthy if I don’t let her.  Ramona was raised here in the castle.  She’s never even been off the grounds, so I let her in to clean on occasion.  I validate the loyalty of every guard in our employ—most of whom come from far away, and I have hand-picked.  No one who comes here asking for a job inside the castle gets one.  I can’t trust that person.  He could have been sent by Edgar.  If even one conspirator maneuvered his way into the castle, we would all be in danger.”

I dropped my eyes from him and contemplated his words as I twisted the fingers of my hands around themselves.  To be so young and exposed to such a thing was unthinkable to me.  Even if it had not been his parents, he certainly would have been scarred.  I could not imagine listening to the sounds of such violence and being unable to do anything about it.  And then to know those that those who were deemed trustworthy were the cause…the idea was unfathomable.

“Well,” Branford said with a sigh, “that’s why I behaved the way I did last night.  My family was betrayed by those closest to us, and now I find it nearly impossible to trust anyone.  If I suspect betrayal, I make sure there is no way it can hurt my family.  That’s why I was so angry at the carriage driver when we first arrived.  It’s why I reacted the way I did last night, and it’s why I want my cousins strung up by their necks until they’re dead.”

I flinched at his words.  What Lady Kimberly and Lady Nelle had done was horrible, but for Branford to speak of ending their lives so easily was frightening.

“But they are part of your family,” I said quietly.

“Not any longer,” he replied.  Branford ran both of his hands through his hair.  “Kimberly has had her embarrassing little tirades before but nothing like this.  She must think my mother’s wishes will protect her from anything she does.  Not anymore.”

“You thought our carriage driver was a traitor, too?”

“He may be,” Branford said.  He dropped his hands and looked back out the window, but I didn’t think he could see anything but sky from his angle.  “I know I can seem ruthless, but I do have my reasons.  Four times we have confirmed spies here in Silverhelm though we could not prove they came from Hadebrand.  Two had managed to weasel their way into our outer guard while the others were posing as merchants.  They never actually got inside the castle, but there are those out there who want to bring the Sterling family down, just as they did the Monroes—my mother’s family.  They were all but wiped out, and her family lands were taken, but I will not allow that to happen to the Sterlings.  I won’t allow that to happen to Silverhelm.”

Branford turned back and finally looked at me again.

“I don’t tolerate any disloyalty, Alexandra,” he said.  “Perhaps there had been signs of it in the guards who killed my parents, and perhaps the signs were ignored because the guards were considered friends.  I won’t make the same mistake.  In keeping that pledge, I have been known to…to overreact.”

“I would not betray you, Branford,” I said quietly.

“I don’t think you would, my wife,” Branford said, but his tone was so melancholy, I wasn’t sure if I could trust his words.  “That is why I chose a wife in the manner I did—randomly and without any way for someone to predict.  It’s just…I never really know.  No one can know with absolute certainty, can they?  Unless you are able to read a person’s thoughts, you can never know for sure.”

“What about your sister,” I asked, “or King Camden or Sir Parnell?”

“I trust them,” Branford said slowly.  “As much as I can trust anyone.  I know them so well—their habits, their likes and dislikes—it seems I can almost read their minds.  Of course, I also knew Kimberly was angry with me when I told her I could no longer…well, spend time with her.  Still, I never thought she would come here to my rooms and…”

Branford stopped and growled low in his chest.  He stood, his hands clenched into fists, and I cringed back into my chair, unsure of what he would do.

“I want her to die for what she did to you,” Branford said, “but I can’t do that.  My mother—she promised her sister we would care for them.  Kimberly will be punished, but as my sister pointed out to me, I can’t take her life without dishonoring my mother.”

“I understand, Branford,” I said.  Truly, I was somewhat relieved.  Already the court could not possibly think well of me, and if I were to be considered responsible for the deaths of two of their own…well, it certainly would not improve my position.

“I won’t allow Kimberly or Nelle to upset you again,” he said, his tone now soft.  He marched the two steps it took to reach me.  He cupped my chin and tilted my head upward until I met his glorious, green, hesitant eyes.  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “I promise.”

I nodded and looked off to the side at nothing in particular.  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to him.  On one level, I knew he was sincere, and he truly meant every word he said.  On another, he could change his mind.  He could decide his relations were ultimately more important than I.  He could even decide, based on some arbitrary whim, that I was not loyal and order my death.

“I know,” Branford said.  He dropped his hand, turned away from me and walked back to the window.  He leaned against the sill and looked out over the castle grounds.

“What do you know, my…Branford?”

“I know my promises are meaningless to you,” he said simply.  He folded his arms and dropped his chin on them as he stared out into the forest.  “I’m used to my word meaning something, but apparently that isn’t the case here.”

I had no idea if I really believed him or not.  I felt strangely empty…hollow, even.  It wasn’t that I thought he was intentionally lying to me.  I just didn’t know if he could keep his promises forever.

“I…I know you mean…”  I tried to speak but was quite glad when Branford interrupted, for I had no idea what words were to come from my mouth next.

“Maybe it’s best to talk of something else?” Branford suggested.

“What shall we talk about?”

“I’m not sure,” Branford said.  “I want to know you, and I want you to know me, but I’m not sure where to begin.  Tell me about living in Hadebrand.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” I said.  I could feel heat rising to my face as his bright green eyes stared through me.  “I helped Princess Whitney dress in the mornings and evenings.  I cooked for her when she was ill, and she didn’t like what the kitchen servants had made.  She could be very picky about what she wanted to eat even when she was in good health.”

“I bet she was.” Branford snickered.  “What did you do for enjoyment?”

“Enjoyment?”

“Yes.  When you didn’t have any duties to perform, what did you do then?”

“I’m not sure I understand,” I replied.  “If Princess Whitney didn’t require anything right away or if she was traveling, I did the mending and cleaned.  There were always duties to perform.”

“Did they give you no time to yourself at all?” Branford asked, his tone of voice making it obvious he was disgusted.

“At night,” I said softly, “when Princess Whitney had gone to sleep and no one else needed anything.”

“They treated you like a slave.” Branford growled.

“Is there some difference between a servant and a slave?” I asked before I realized the words were out of my mouth.  I bit my lower lip and looked at the ground.  Branford turned from the window and stared at me.

“You have some teeth, woman,” he said, but his voice did not sound angry, so I glanced up to his face and was met with his half smile.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  “Could you have left King Edgar’s employ?”

“And go where?” I asked.  “I have no family, and I would have to find a way of supporting myself.”

“But you would have been allowed to leave,” Branford said.  “No one would have stopped you if you decided to walk out the castle gates never to return.  You could have given yourself to God at the abbey or found a way to travel to another village.”

“I supposed I could have.”

“Then you know the difference between a servant and a slave.”  Branford turned around and placed his hands behind his back, against the windowsill, then leaned against them.  “You have as many choices as any of us do.  When we say we have no choice, it’s just our way of saying we have already chosen our path.  There are always choices.”

“I’ve always been at the mercy of others,” I said.  “If I had been a princess when you chose me—”

“Who do princesses usually end up marrying?” Branford interrupted again.  “Do you think they have any more choice in the matter than you did?  I at least gave you the opportunity to refuse if you so desired.  Do you think the princesses of the realms have that luxury?  Their fathers choose some man based on his political influence, not the man’s concern for his daughter.  Edgar was ready to marry Whitney off to me, and I hate her.  That whore threw herself at me after a tournament at Sawyer Castle.  I won, I was celebrating, and I was quite drunk.  She helped me back to the inn where I was staying, and then I helped her out of her clothes.  In the morning she told me I would have to marry her, and I laughed.”

“Why did you laugh?” I asked, for it seemed a logical assumption on the princess’s part.

“Because, Alexandra,” Branford said.  “Because I am free.  I am a noble, and I am a man.   I can do whatever the hell I want.  I can take God’s name in vain. I can kill on a whim, and I can sleep with any woman I choose.  The Church will offer me forgiveness, and no one will consider me any the less because of it.  The most I will ever have to put up with is the ire of my king and queen, which is not to be taken lightly.  Whitney is a fool.  Not only did she give her virginity to me, she’d made it clear she was trying to trap me into a wedding.  As if I would let someone so close to my enemy into my household.”

Branford turned toward me, his eyes blazing but not in the same way they had when he touched me the day before.  There was anger and hatred in them but also that quiet, desperate sorrow I had seen before.

“Do you see?” Branford asked.  He walked back to me and held the sides of my face.  He was gentle—his fingertips just barely pressing into my skin—and I had no fear of his actions, even as his eyes burned into me.  “Do you see why I couldn't marry her?  Even when Camden told me to?  I couldn't. I wouldn't be wed to the daughter of the man who killed my parents.  Do you understand, Alexandra?  Please, please understand.  I couldn't do it.  I couldn't.”

“I understand,” I said.  His eyes closed and he rested his forehead against mine.

“Do you really?” Branford asked.  His tone was abruptly cold again.  “Do you really understand, or are you just saying it because you think that's what I want from you?”

I didn't know how to answer, and I could not help but feel a cold chill run up my spine at his harsh tone directed at me.

“Please, don’t look like that,” Branford said in a soft, no longer chilling voice.  “I wasn’t trying to frighten you…I just want to hear the truth.  You are so apt at hiding what you feel inside, I’m never quite sure if you mean what you say.”

“Do you believe King Edgar really ordered the murder of your parents?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Then I understand,” I told him, trying to keep my voice as firm as I could manage.  Branford’s eyes looked into mine for a moment, and then he nodded his head.

“Thank you,” he said.  “I want you to always speak what you truly think and believe when we are here alone.”

“But not when we are in the company of others?” I asked for clarification.  Branford scowled a moment.

“I would not want you to contradict me in front of others, no,” he said.  “As long as that is not your intent, you should be able to speak freely most of the time.  If there are others above your station, which is now restricted only to immediate royalty—kings and queens, princes and princesses by birth, not marriage—their word takes precedence.  Otherwise, your word is as good as theirs.”

“But you don’t speak of these things in front of others, do you?  You don’t talk of the…betrayal of your family or of war with Hadebrand.”

“No, definitely not.”  Branford’s voice was harsh and dark.  “Speaking of it could alert them to my plans.  Edgar killed my parents.  I may not be able to prove it, but I know it in my heart.  He may not have done the deed with his hands, but he was still behind it.  He wanted our lands—took most of them, too.  Only by the will of the Church do I still have rights to Sterling Castle itself, but many of the lands around it are now Edgar’s.”

“That’s why you chose me as a wife—to anger Edgar into war.”

At first, I simply nodded to myself, and then I stopped breathing as I realized the words had actually exited my mouth.  I hadn’t meant to say it—not out loud.

“Why did you say that, Alexandra?  Sunniva did not speak of those details.”

There was no way around it now.  If we were truly beginning again, I would have to confess my indiscretion and hope he would have mercy on me.  I again remembered the carriage driver begging for leniency where there was none to be had.  I glanced up at Branford, and he stood above me with his head tilted slightly and one eyebrow arched upwards.

“I heard you talking to Sir Parnell,” I finally said quietly.  “I wasn’t asleep, and I heard what you said.  I planned to tell you.  I didn’t mean to overhear; I just wasn’t quite asleep.”

I closed my eyes and braced myself for whatever his reaction might be.  For a long moment, the room was silent.  Finally, Branford spoke quietly.

“What did you hear?”

“Everything, my…Branford.”

He was silent for some time.

“You seem to have a habit of listening to conversation not meant for your ears,” Branford said.  I couldn’t tell from his tone if he was angry or not.  “What else have you heard that I don’t know about?”

“Nothing, my lord,” I said quietly.  “I never meant to keep it a secret.  I meant to tell you all of it, I swear.”

“It doesn’t matter, Alexandra,” Branford said.  “It seems I have nothing to hide from you anyway.”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“Will I always become ‘your lord’ when you think you are in trouble?”

“Probably,” I finally answered.  Branford laughed, and the tense mood was instantly lifted.

“That’s where you heard me first speak of Lily,” Branford said.

I nodded.

“Who is she?” I asked.

“Lily was,” Branford said, correcting me, “my best friend.”

“What happened to her?”

“I’ll tell you,” Branford said.  He stood and held his hand to me.  “But it would be easier to show you at the same time.  Let’s go.”

“I didn’t think we were to leave the rooms,” I said.  “Queen Sunniva…”

“My mother’s intent was for us to be alone together,” Branford insisted.  “For all practical purposes, we will be.  She wants us to know and understand each other, and you cannot understand me without understanding this.  She would not object.”

“All right,” I said.

Branford led me out into the hallway, where I noticed a guard standing outside the room.  He was young and physically intimidating—his bulging muscles clearly visible under the chain-linked armor.  I recognized him as one of the guards normally at the door to the great hall.  He nodded and greeted us both.

“Good morning, Sir Branford, Lady Alexandra,” he said.

“Good morning, Dunstan,” Branford replied.  “Is there some reason you are standing outside my rooms?”

“Queen Sunniva has ordered me to keep you in my watch, Sir Branford.”  Dunstan shuffled slightly from one foot to the other.  “I’m to report if you…take leave of each other.”

Branford growled something indiscernible under his breath, took my arm, and led me down the hallway with Dunstan walking a respectable distance behind us.  Branford glared down at the floor in front of us and continued to mumble under his breath until we reached the doors and headed outside.  When we reached the castle gates, he took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked out over the organized chaos before us.

The sun was bright and shone down on the busy marketplace where many merchants held various wares to sell in carts, baskets, and makeshift tables all around the entrance to the castle gates.  There was a woman holding a basket of flowers, a farmer with a cart of vegetables, and a man with a string of fish hanging from a rack.  It was not dissimilar to the marketplace in Hadebrand though I did not recognize any of the merchants.  I started forward, but my husband stopped and leaned over to me.

“Alexandra,” he said and bade me look into his eyes.  “When we are in common areas together, you will hold my right arm.  I will always be addressed first, and if I give whomever addresses me leave, they will address you as Lady Alexandra.  When returning their greeting, do not use a title at all.  Just call them by their names.  Understand?”

“Yes, Branford,” I said and smiled up at him.  “Thank you.”

“I’m trying,” he said with a slight smile.  He offered his right arm to me, and I wrapped my fingers around it.

Branford pulled me back between two of the carts where a man with white whiskers adorning his face, but long dark hair on his head, sat with a bowl in his hands of what looked like porridge.

“Channing.”  Branford waved and greeted him.

“Sir Branford!” the man said.  He stood, depositing the bowl on the ground beside him.  “I wondered when you would return.  This must be your beautiful new wife.”

“Alexandra,” Branford said as he turned to me, “may I present Channing—the finest breeder of hunting dogs in Silverhelm.  Channing, this is my wife, Lady Alexandra.”

“Greetings, Lady Alexandra,” Channing said, and he bowed to me.  I felt heat rise to my face.

“A pleasure to meet you, Channing,” I responded in kind.  I saw Branford’s smile out of the corner of my eye and was glad he had taught me how to address someone.

“Have you come to see your new beauty, Sir Branford?”

“I have indeed,” Branford replied.

“Right this way!”

Branford and I followed Channing back behind his hay-filled wagon, where a light brown dog lay with a litter of pups at her teats.

“She’ll be all yours in just a few weeks,” Channing said.

“You’re getting a puppy?” I asked, my eyes wide.

“No,” Branford said with a shake of his head.  “I don’t have time to train one right now, and if I got one, I’d want to do the training.  I’m buying the bitch.”

I looked at the dog lying on her side, and she looked up at me.  She looked tired but well cared for and obviously raising an excellent group of puppies.  They were rolling around each other, nursing and whining.  Their mother raised her head and licked at them for a moment before settling herself back down in the hay.

“I hate to give her up,” Channing said, “but Sir Branford drives a hard bargain.”

“I’m offering the stud services of my pack for the next breeding season in exchange for her,” Branford said, explaining their deal to me.

“I’ll be keeping three of the female pups,” Channing said, “but they won’t be able to breed with their littermates—not healthy for them.  Sir Branford’s dogs are excellent hunters and not related to these pups at all.  It will mean three good litters for me next year.”

“Come, Alexandra,” Branford said.  He looked into my eyes and took my hand as he led me closer.  He held my hand out and slowly pulled my fingers through the bitch’s soft fur.  “Alexandra, I would like you to meet Amarra.  She’ll become part of my hunting pack when her pups are weaned.  She’s the replacement for Lily.”

My gaze darted to his, and I could see the strangest combination of sadness and mirth.

“Lily was a dog?”

“The best ever,” Branford said quietly.  “She was found a week ago in the woods not far from the fields where my pack runs when we’re not hunting.  She would have had pups in just under a month, but she was…well, she was killed.  After she didn’t return to the stable one night, we found her hanging from a tree.”

“Oh goodness!” I cried.  “Someone…someone killed her?”

Branford just nodded.

“She was rarely away from me at night,” Branford said, “but she needed to have a good place to have her pups near the rest of the pack.  She had been staying out there with them for three nights before she disappeared.”

I looked up into his eyes, and I could feel the anger behind them.

“I do have enemies,” he said quietly, “and sometimes they know exactly where to strike me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.  Some of his words from this morning—the tale of his parents and his reluctance to trust—drove deeper into me, and I understood some of his reasons for his actions.

“She stayed with me in my rooms most of the time,” Branford said, and the purpose of the large square cushion by the fireplace was suddenly apparent.  “I loathe the idea of replacing her so quickly, but it’s late in the season.  If I want to have pups next year, I want to give the new bitch plenty of time to get used to the pack first.”

“I remember when you first took Lily with you,” Channing said.  “You had her picked out the moment you saw her.”

“True, I did,” Branford said with a slight smile.

“It took a little convincing to get him to let the pup go back to her mother until she was ready to be weaned.”

“I wasn’t horribly patient about it as I recall.”

“That’s why you had to resort to hand-feeding her when you insisted on taking her too young.”

“How long did you have her?” I asked.

“Nearly five years,” Branford said.  “She was with me almost constantly.  The rest of the pack stayed together most of the time, but even when we weren’t hunting, Lily was always by my side.  My hope is Amarra will be half as good as Lily was.  If she is, I’ll be very pleased.”

“Will she stay in our rooms?” I asked.

“It would be my preference,” Branford said, “but only if you are agreeable.  The rest of the pack stays near the other side of the garden, next to the stables, and she could remain there as well.”

I could see in his face he didn’t like the idea.

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, and the glorious smile that greeted me was impossible not to return.

Branford looked up, glancing quickly from left to right before he turned back to me.  I looked around as well, but saw no one save Channing, who was tending to the pups.

“Yesterday you told me I didn’t have to ask permission to kiss you,” Branford said so softly I didn’t think the breeder could hear him.  “Pray, is that still the case?”

The skin all over my body started to tingle just at the sound of his words.  Other than waking in his arms and the few touches of his fingers on my chin, he had barely touched me at all since yesterday morning.  I didn’t dare look at his eyes because I knew if I did, they would be smoldering, and there would be no doubt I would agree to his wants.  I needed to figure out if it was still all right if he kissed me or not before I looked at him.

There was certainly a part of me that feared even the most casual touches from him.  It was difficult to see his hands and not remember them balled into fists and pounding the cold stone wall of the morning room, so dangerously close to my head.  If I thought about it, I could feel his fingers grasping the flesh of my arm as he hauled me back up the stairs and into our rooms.

But today, he had been the Branford who had carried me on his horse to the abbey to prepare for our wedding.  Today, he had been the same man who didn’t take me by force the first night even though it was his right.  He was using the same tone of voice he had used when he held me the second night and told me he would be gentle when he touched my skin.  He had been gentle, and the feelings he evoked were unknown and exciting.

Forgetting myself, I looked into his eyes, and as I suspected I would be, I was trapped there.  Not only could I see his want for me, but I could also see his confusion and his hope.  I had waited too long before answering him, and I could see he had all but decided I meant to deny him.  He nodded slightly and then started to turn away.

“It is,” I said quickly before he could turn his back to me.  His gaze swiveled back to mine, curious and hesitant.  “It is still all right for you to kiss me.”

A slight smile appeared over his lips, and he looked around the area once more before leaning close to me again.  I closed my eyes and felt the warm burn of his mouth as it pressed carefully against my lips.  He didn’t push hard against me, nor did he open his mouth or touch my lips with his tongue.  He kissed me simply and softly while my heart pounded in my ears.  After exactly seven kisses, he pulled his head back, and his smile was much larger.  His expression made him look much younger than he was—a boy, even.  A boy who had just been given his first horse to ride—excited, encouraged, and relieved the day had finally arrived.  Branford’s eyes were literally glowing along with the rest of his face, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Thank you, my wife”—Branford glanced first at the cart full of hunting dogs and then to my lips—“for everything.”

And that is how I knew our marriage just might work.