For a very long moment, I just stood there with mouth agape, trying to understand what had apparently occurred so close to me yet without my knowledge.  I had been on the other side of the stables, only vaguely aware of the knights at the far end.  Now that I understood what they had been doing, I was shocked and horrified.

 The girl rolled over to her hands and knees and began to push herself up and out of the dirty straw before I gained my senses and moved to help her.

“Are you hurt badly?” I asked quietly.  I crouched down next to her and reached out to offer assistance though I didn’t know what I should do to help.  The girl reached over her shoulder and pulled her soiled dress against her chest.  It was badly torn and likely ruined.  If only I had realized what was happening to her earlier…but even then, what could I have done?

“I am fine, my lady,” the girl’s soft voice proclaimed as she tried to right herself.  She used one hand to push her short, dark hair from her face.

“My name is Lady Alexandra,” I told her.  I really didn’t know if my name was known yet or not here in Sawyer though Branford kept assuring me I would be known both by name and face before the end of summer.  The colors of my dress made me stand out as a supporter of Silverhelm, not as its future queen.  “I am Prince Branford’s wife.  If you tell me what happened, maybe I can help.”

The girl’s eyes went wide with terror as she scrambled in the dirty straw to get herself sitting upright.  She shook her head and started begging me.

“No, no—please, my lady!  Do not speak of it!”  She pushed herself up onto her feet as chaff rained down from her torn dress.  I stood as well, reaching for her arm to steady her as she swayed.  “I am fine, really.  I just need to get Lord Leland’s horse now.”

Lord Leland.  Undoubtedly, this was Sir Leland, the knight Branford had mentioned the previous day.  I was sure of it.  He was the knight who had bested Branford in the joust.  He must have been the blond knight who stayed after the others had left.  I remembered Branford’s warning to stay away from him.

“You cannot possibly—”  I didn’t get my sentence out before I heard my name called from the other end of the stables.

“Alexandra!”  Ida stood near Romero’s stall, looking up and over the wall.  She looked from left to right, seeking me out.

“Over here, Ida!” I called back and waved my hand in her direction.  Ida gathered up her skirts and came quickly to the other side of the building.  When she reached me, she observed the girl in the stall and then faced me with a look of concern in her eyes.

“I was stopped by Lady Sawyer,” Ida said.  “I realize you have only met her once, but you already know how difficult it is to get her to end a sentence.  What happened?”

“There were some knights here…” I started to say.

“Please, my lady,” the girl begged.  She reached out as if to take my hand.  “I do not want to start any trouble.”

“Trouble?” I asked.  “You have done nothing wrong.”

“Lord Leland bade me to collect his horse,” she said softly.  She grabbed a bit and bridle from the wall of the stall and started to walk toward the door to the barn.  “I should go to the farrier now.”

“He was one of the men who hurt you, wasn’t he?” I asked, grasping her arm and turning her to me.  Her gaze darted from me to Ida and then back to me again.

“He did no harm, my lady.”  The girl pulled her shoulders in on herself, as if she was trying to disappear into the ground.

“No harm!” I scoffed, pointlessly indicating her torn dress and muddied skirts.

“It is his right,” the dark haired girl said with a shrug.

“Alexandra,” Ida said as she placed her hand on my arm, “what happened?”

I looked from the girl to Ida and wondered what I could say.  I did not want to frighten Branford’s sister, nor did I want the girl to run off before I could convince her to seek help.  Before I could respond to Ida, I heard my name called again, this time by the deep voice of my husband.  He had also entered the far end of the stables near his horses.  I waved my hand in the air to get his attention.

“Please, my lady,” the girl said again, “truly, I do not wish to be a burden.  I should go…”

“It is not a burden!” I said, insisting, but before I could say any more, Branford was near.

“What are you doing down here?” he demanded as he walked over toward us.  He looked from me to Ida and then into the stall.  The girl had managed to straighten her dress so she was no longer exposed, but the dress was obviously torn, and her lip was bloody and swollen.  Branford looked back to me.  “Alexandra?”

“There were some knights here,” I started to say, but the girl grabbed my arm.  When I turned, she was shaking her head and begging me not to tell Branford what had happened.

“Please, my lady,” she said.

I looked back to my husband, but he was looking away from me and away from the girl in the stall.  His jaw was set, and his hands flexed into fists for a moment.

“What are you doing down here, Alexandra?” Branford asked, demanding my answer.

“Branford, she was—”

“We need to return to the arena,” Branford said, cutting off my words.

“But, Branford,” I started to say but was interrupted again.

“It is not your concern, Alexandra.”  Branford’s eyes darted quickly between my face and the stall where the girl stood with her head bowed and then toward the entrance to the stable.

My heart sank, and words would no longer form in my throat.  He was not going to help her—that much was obvious.  I knew by the look in his eye, he had not misinterpreted what had occurred.  He knew what had happened, and he was willingly walking away from it.  Indeed, he was telling me to do the same.

“Branford, she is hurt,” I said, hoping my emphasis would make the point better.  He glanced at her again.

“She seems all right.”

“Branford!”

“There is nothing I can do,” Branford said.  He turned and started walking back toward Romero’s stall, and I scurried after him.

“Branford, what do you mean, ‘nothing’?  They were…they were brutal with her!”

“I know who she is,” Branford said with a shrug.  His eyes were dark and narrowed, betraying his ire behind the nonchalance he attempted to project.

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Janet.  She’s owned by Sir Leland.”

“Owned?”

“Yes.”

“A slave?”  I gasped.

“Yes, a slave.”

“But surely he cannot—”

“Alexandra, please.” Branford stopped and gripped my forearms with his hands.  “There is nothing I can do.”

“But is Sawyer not part of Silverhelm?”  I continued to press.  “Do you not rule here?”

“Of course I do!” Branford snapped back.  “That has nothing to do with it!”

“They hurt her, Branford.  Did you not see?”  I couldn’t understand his attitude toward what was obviously so heinous an act.  He was a prince here!  Could he not do whatever he pleased?

Branford closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head sharply, as if to dispel whatever thoughts were in his mind as he turned and walked farther away from me though I followed still.  He balled his hands into fists, and without warning, he stopped walking and turned back to me.

“Do you not think I want to correct this?” he yelled.  “Do you not think I would do something about it if I could?  With all you know of me, with what you know of…of my mother…how could you think I would turn my back if I had another choice?”

I opened my mouth, dumbfounded, but quickly looked away from him, for his question was more than valid.

“I did not mean…” I started but didn’t know exactly how to finish.

“You asked me once before how your life differed from that of a slave,” Branford said, reminding me.

“I remember,” I said softly.  I looked up into his eyes, taking a step closer to him.  “I was not thinking clearly, Branford.  Please, forgive me.”

“Now do you understand the difference?”  Branford raised his hand up in the air as if to make his point to the skies or at least the roof of the barn.  “Had she been his paid servant, I would have no issue taking him to the stocks, but she is a slave, and she is his property.  He is free to use her as he sees fit.”

The sight of her on the floor of the stall invaded my mind and brought tears to my eyes.  Her torn dress, her bloodied lip, and four, strong knights drinking their ale and doing with her whatever they wished.

“Branford…that is…is…”

“I know, Alexandra,” he said, his voice softening.  He took a deep breath as he reached out and took me in his arms.  “Do you not believe I would act on this if I could?  But she is only a slave, and he is of royal blood from the kingdom next door to Silverhelm.  Even if she was a hired servant, I could not have punished him harshly.  But she is his slave, and he has done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong,” I said, listening to the words echo around the stables.

“Alexandra, please…”

“Please what?” I asked quietly.

“You must understand she has no more rights than if he had brought a lamb with him to slaughter for the feast.  Do you think I could tell him not to slaughter his own lamb?  Do you think I could punish him for eating it?”

My gaze dropped to the ground, and I felt a single tear as it escaped from my eyes and fell across my cheek.  The girl was nothing to him—not to Branford or to Sir Leland—not a person, just a commodity to be used and cast aside when no longer needed.  Branford brushed his thumb gently against my cheekbone.  I thought he was about to speak, but before he had the chance, I heard rapid footsteps, and Ida was suddenly with us.

“Branford, do not be angry with Alexandra,” Ida said as she came up.  “It was entirely my fault.  I didn’t know Lady Sawyer would want to chat, and I can hardly walk away from my future mother-in-law.  Alexandra was only alone for the shortest of times, but still it was my fault, not hers.”

Branford froze for a moment, his eyes going wide as he looked first to his sister and then to me.  He took a step backwards, releasing me from his embrace.  Obviously, before that moment he had no idea Ida had not been with me when the girl was accosted or that I had been in the barn with those men without a chaperone.  I watched as the realization came over him, and his confusion turned into the tyrant’s black rage.

“You…you were here…with them?  Alone?”  As Branford roared out the last word, both Ida and I took an involuntary step backwards.  “While they were…were…”

Branford huffed sharp breaths through his nose, and his eyes went dark and narrow as he stared at the ground in front of his feet.  He did not seem able to complete his sentence though he tried several more times.  I stood silent and still as his hands clenched and unclenched from fists to wide, spread fingers.  I did not dare wonder what he was thinking any more than I dared utter a sound.  Slowly, his head rose and his dark emerald eyes met mine.  I wanted to reach out for him, but his anger was still too raw and unfocused.

“Come with me,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Branford, maybe you should—”

“I am talking to my wife, Ida!” He growled his response.  “You and I will discuss this later.”

With that as Branford’s final words to his sister, he took me by the hand and began pulling me behind him.  I nearly had to run to keep up with his long strides as he crossed the field and entered the castle gates, growling deeply under his breath.  I should have known he would be angry.  If I had a thought in my head, I would have cautioned Ida against mentioning it, but I had not thought of it in time.  Now he was obviously infuriated with me, probably with her as well, and it occurred to me that he was taking me back to our rooms where we would be alone.  For a moment, my mind flashed to several nights prior when he had similarly dragged me to our chambers in his anger.

Sunniva was not attending the tournament, so there was no one to protect me from his anger or support me for my infringement.  My chest tightened in panic.

“Branford, please,” I said quietly.  “You are scaring me.”

“I am scaring you?  I am scaring you?” he yelled.  He slammed his free hand into the door of our borrowed chambers and pulled me through, closing it loudly behind us.  As he stalked to the other side of the room, I started to follow him, but he held out his hand.  “Stay where you are.  I do not trust myself right now.”

I took in a sharp breath and stopped moving.  My chest was still tight, and I was trying to keep the tears behind my eyes from collecting and falling.  I reminded myself of Branford’s promise—he said he would not harm me.  I knew he had meant it…at least, at the time, he had.  Branford paced in front of the fire for a moment and then turned sharply back in my direction.

“Do I need to assign a guard to you?” Branford bellowed.  “For the love of God, Alexandra!  Not five minutes beforehand, I had told you not to wander on your own, and to find out you were alone…with Sir Leland, that son of a…”

I could not help but let out a cry when Branford’s hand suddenly flew out, and everything that had been on the table near the fire crashed to the ground.  He kicked out with his foot, toppling the table and smashing it against the wall.  He growled out a long, feral sound before grasping the mantle above the fire and rocking back and forth against it.  I watched his knuckles turn white as he dug his fingers into the wood.

I didn’t know what to do, so I stood by the doorway with my back against the wall, trying not to breathe.  I was afraid he would start ripping the entire room to shreds, and I was not entirely sure I shouldn’t flee from his presence altogether.  If I thought it would have helped instead of likely making it worse, I might have done so.

A moment later, he was rushing across the room.  I cringed against the wall as he brought both his hands to either side of my head, effectively caging me between them.  I braced myself, but for what, I did not know.

“God, Alexandra.”  Branford dropped his hands to my shoulders and then pulled me forward.  He held me tight against his chest with his hand in my hair, resting his head on top of mine.  He growled once, and then his voice softened.  “If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I would do.”

I felt his fear quaking inside of him as his anger slowly decreased in its intensity.  I didn’t speak but reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, relinquishing myself to him.  I didn’t know how long we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, but it felt like a long time.  I pressed my face against his jacket and inhaled his scent.

Branford leaned back and moved his hands to the tops of my arms, pushing me away from him a little.

“You frightened me,” he said as he looked down at me.  He reached up and brushed my cheek and neck.  “To know you were so close to them when they were…”

He sucked in a sharp breath and pulled me back against his chest.

“If they had touched you in any way…God, we’d be at war now!  Do you realize that?”

“War?”

“Yes, Alexandra!  War!”  Branford pushed away from me as his anger resurfaced.  He spun around and kept his back to me as he leaned against the mantle, attacking the structure with his fingers clawing into the timber.  “I would have slaughtered every one of them for touching you!  By the end of the day, their kingdom would have heard of it and would be preparing to march against us!  I am so close—so close—to being ready to attack Hadebrand directly.  War on another front right now would destroy all of my plans!”

“I did not know,” I said quietly.  Branford moved to sit on the edge of the bed and placed his head in his hands.  His fingers circled his temples, and he sighed deeply.  He refused to look up but only sat on the edge of the mattress and shook his head.  I stayed where I was, for I could still feel the heat of his ire as it radiated off his skin, and I did not wish to be any closer to its source.

“You will be assigned a guard,” he said.  His tone left no room for any kind of rebuttal, and I was not about to offer one.  “When I am unable to be at your side, you will be accompanied at all times.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Branford,” I replied.  He sighed, and I watched his shoulders lose some of their tension as he slumped slightly forward.  Moving slowly, I approached the bed.  He did not seem agitated by my presence so close to him, so I sat down beside him and placed my hand on his thigh.  “I did not intend to cause you worry.”

He continued to rub his fingers against his temples, and for a long moment, he did not acknowledge me.  Truly, I understood his ire.  I had been in a dangerous situation though I did not realize it at the time.  I wondered if any of them would have been bold enough to harass me if they had known who I was, or rather, to whom I was married.  It seemed unlikely, though for men who would do such a thing to that girl—slave or not—the list of things they would not dare do must be short.

Branford covered my hand where it rested on his leg, and for a moment, he just gripped my fingers.  He then brought my hand to his mouth and touched his lips to my knuckles.  He opened his eyes and turned to face me, his anger gone.  Only worry and concern seemed to be left.  He reached up to pull me close to him, his mouth covering mine.  He kissed me softly at first, but as we touched, I could feel his increasing desire as he pressed against my lips and then ran his tongue against mine.

“I need you,” he mumbled against my lips.   I could only nod in response as he fumbled at the ties to my dress, and his tongue invaded my mouth.  Branford pushed my dress from my shoulders and then stood to remove it entirely.  He pressed against my shoulders, pushing me back against the edge of the bed.  He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the ground behind him as he stepped closer and nudged my thighs apart with his knee.  He gripped my legs, pushing them farther apart and pulling my hips to the edge of the bed at the same time.  He slowly lowered himself to the floor next to the bed, and his eyes stared into mine as he took me in his mouth.

I cried out at the contact of his warm lips and tongue against my sensitive flesh.  I reached down to the top of his head as my hips rose reflexively toward the pressure from his mouth.  I cried out again as his tongue entered me, caressing my body in ways I never could have imagined before we were wed.  His mouth and his fingers invaded me until I could stand no more, and his name escaped my lips in a flood of ecstasy.

Without further preamble, he rose and lowered his trousers, exposing his hard male flesh to me.  He grasped my hips and pulled them closer to him as he stood between my legs and thrust completely into me with a long, drawn out moan.  He held himself there, buried to the hilt, with his eyes closed for a while before he began moving in and out of me, slowly at first, but quickly reaching a faster pace.  He ran one of his hands down the outside of my leg, grabbing my ankle and pulling my leg up high until it rested on his shoulder.  He gripped my hips again, pulling me sharply against him as he penetrated me deeper than I had ever felt before.

I didn’t understand these reactions from him—his sudden need to possess my body when he had been angered or worried—but I relished the feelings it seemed to bring forth from both my body and my mind.  This feeling of being so urgently desired and needed was overwhelming.  Was this what it meant to be a wife to such a man?  To be here for him to channel his frustrations into desire for me?  Would this be his outlet for all those things that plagued his mind?  Would this seemingly simple act temper his emotions when his duties as king might otherwise overcome him?  Was this at least part of my role in his life?

I hoped that it was.

For as long as his emotions were channeled into his passion for me, he would not be punishing those who were not deserving of his wrath.  If I could claim both his temper and his passion, how many of those in the Kingdom of Silverhelm could be spared?  I would relinquish my body to him without hesitation if it would give him the peace his mind needed.  In all honesty, I would surrender my body to him regardless and for my own selfish reasons as well.

Our moans erupted in tandem as he pushed into me deeply, pulled back, and then thrust forward again and again.  His pace continued to increase until I could see the beads of sweat covering his forehead and arms.  He leaned over me, entering me faster and harder as I lay back on the bed and let the sensations wash over me.  He released my hip and reached between us—a single touch against me that brought forth my release as my back arched against him.

Branford leaned back again, changing the pressure where we were joined.  He wrapped one hand around the leg that still rested on his shoulder while the other still gripped my hip, pulling my body toward him with every thrust of his hips.  I looked up to his face as he tilted his head to the heavens and cried out as he filled my body completely.

He was spectacular.

The strain in the muscles of his neck, across his broad shoulders, and down to his wrists was evident as he received his pleasure.  His strong grip on me finally relaxed as the tension dropped from his shoulders and arms, and his body collapsed on top of mine.  He wrapped his arms around me.  He sought my skin with his mouth, and he held me close as his breathing and heartbeat slowed.

We did not speak, but I ran my hand through his hair as he lay his cheek upon my breast.  He began breathing slowly and deeply, and for a moment, I thought he might have fallen asleep.  I was content to let him lie there as long as he wished though he was heavy with all his weight on top of me.  But soon, he pushed himself up on his arms, and I could breathe easier.

His gaze met mine, and all the complex emotions that had been displayed in his eyes before—anger, frustration, worry—were gone.  I could see only contentment left in his dark green irises.  Branford reached up and took my face between his hands, angling my head toward his.

“You are precious to me,” he whispered.  His eyes were dark again—intense, but not with anger or need.  I wondered what it meant when his eyes turned that shade of green.

“Nothing happened to me,” I said, reassuring him.  I touched his cheek with my fingers.

“But it is like you invite trouble into your midst,” Branford said.  “Everywhere you go, there is danger lurking, just waiting for me to drop my guard long enough to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

He kissed me again, gently and softly.

“I would be lost without you now,” Branford said.  His voice was still very quiet, and his eyes were still dark.  He ran the tips of his fingers across my face, right along my hairline, and then down to my jaw.  His lips briefly touched my throat as he brushed his fingertips over my breasts.  He raised his head and kissed my lips again before pulling back and looking down at me.

“Forgive me, Branford.”  I brushed my fingertips across his arm.  “Truly, I was never close to them at all.  They were all the way on the other side of the barn.  I could not even hear what they said.  I could only hear their laughter while they were…were…”

“Hush,” he said.  He cradled my face as he looked into my eyes.  “Do not think of it any longer.”

“Is there nothing that can be done?” I asked.  I could feel the hot sting of tears in my eyes for the girl in the stables, the one whose life was tied to that horrific man.  Branford closed his eyes, and his forehead touched mine.

“I will try to think of something I can do for her,” Branford said softly.  “I cannot make you any promises, but I will see what I can do.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and held myself close to him for a moment.  Then I loosened my grip enough to drop back against the pillow and see his face.

“Thank you.”

He smiled his half smile and kissed me on the bridge of my nose.

“Shall we dress and head to the inn?”

And that’s when I remembered where the knights were going.