Though he had been gone several minutes, the echo of King Edgar’s threats hovered throughout the chamber.  I knew Branford was completely serious when he said he would protect me at all costs.  I also knew that sometimes the desire to protect was not enough, and the thought made my blood run cold.  King Edgar was an evil, obsessed man, and he would not stop until Silverhelm was completely under his control.  If he could not rule by subterfuge, he would overtake by force.  If that happened, God help anyone who supported our kingdom.

With his eyes still full of fire, Branford turned to gaze down upon me as his hand reached out to take mine.  He pulled me closer to him and simply stared at me for some time.  We may have stood there until nightfall if a messenger had not appeared in the doorway.

“Sir Branford, the queen requests your presence in the king’s chambers,” the messenger said.

Branford looked at me, and I reached for his arm with my free hand.  We walked together in apprehension up the narrow staircase to the royal chambers.  When we entered, I saw Sunniva at her place next to the king’s bed, her hand placed lightly on his arm.  Though she had spent most of her time in this room since Camden had been bedridden, she had barely moved from that specific spot in days.

“Mother?” Branford said softly as we approached.

Sunniva’s gaze turned to look upon us, and there was no question as to why we were summoned.  King Camden slowly rolled his head to one side, and his ancient-looking eyes fell to his adopted son.  Branford released my hand and went quickly to the side of the bed as Sunniva stood on shaky legs and walked slowly to me.

I reached out and touched the queen’s shoulder.  She looked at me, her eyes red and swollen though her expression still was stoic.  She tried to give me a small smile, but it faltered immediately.

“I knew this day was coming soon,” she finally whispered.  “We have known for months, have we not?  But to know it is here…that his time has gone from weeks to days to hours…I am not sure I can do anything to prepare myself.”

Her voice broke on her last word, and I dropped my hand to take hers.  She gripped me and ran her fingers over the back of my hand for a moment.

“At least I know I was loved,” Sunniva said softly.  “How many queens can say that?”

Her smile broadened though her eyes brimmed over with tears.  I reached for her and took her in my embrace.  Over her shoulder I could see Branford with the king, their hands gripping each other’s forearms as Branford leaned close to listen to Camden words.

Sunniva slowly released me, and I stayed close to her with my hands holding on to hers.  She gestured with her head, and we stepped to the far side of the room to sit on the couch there, still hand in hand.  The queen took a long, slow breath and attempted to gather herself.  She looked to the men at the other side of the room.

“We are lucky, Alexandra,” she told me, “to have such men to love us.”

I dropped my gaze to my lap, wondering if there was still truth in her words.  My expression must have given away my thoughts.

“What is it?” she asked.

I shook my head, and her grip on my hand tightened.

“What is it, Alexandra?” she repeated.  “You are troubled.”

I looked over to the other side of the room where Branford sat with his adoptive father and felt my own tears trying to make their presence known.  I blinked them away.

“Sometimes I wonder,” I said softly.

“Nonsense!” Sunniva scoffed and tilted her head to one side.  “Branford adores you.  Whatever would make you say such a thing?”

“He has been…distant,” I told her.

Sunniva’s eyes widened with understanding.  For a moment she said nothing as she processed my words.

“Because of Hadley?” she finally asked.

I could only tilt my head in a noncommittal response, for I did not truly know.  Despite his pledge of protection, I did not understand what was happening inside my husband’s clouded and overburdened mind.

“That is when it began,” I said.

“What has he done?” the queen demanded.

I looked to my husband, then back to my queen.  The look in her eye told me there would be no refusing to answer her inquiry, so I told her.  I dropped my eyes to my lap as I told her of Branford’s distance and his avoidance of me.  I told her how he had barely been in my presence these months and had only in the past few days allowed me close enough to him to take care of his needs.  I even told her that though we had been in the same bed again, he had still not touched me in the way I so deeply missed.  Not since…not since he first went to Hadley’s room.  Even though he had bathed me, and we had lain in our bed with our bodies close together, he had not taken me in the way a husband takes his wife.

The look on Sunniva’s face when I finally looked back up was similar to the one I had nearly pushed from the memories of my second night in Silverhelm.  It was the expression she wore the night she had chastised Branford on his knees for his treatment of me.

“I am sure he did not mean it,” I said quietly, suddenly fearful of her wrath even though her mind was still on her husband’s final moments.

“I am sure he is more foolish that the most adept of jesters!” Sunniva shot back.  She inhaled deeply and then let the air out through her nose over several seconds.  Her hand patted mine as her eyes shot over to Branford.  “I will be speaking to him of this.”

“Please, Sunniva—”

“I will be speaking to him!” she repeated with force.

I dropped my gaze in submission, trying to decide if I was glad she would speak those words I could not or terrified of how he may react.  What if he had decided he no longer loved me as he once did?  What if he still protected me only out of obligation?  I closed my eyes, trying to block those thoughts.

“Alexandra?” the queen said softly, and I looked back at her.  “I have been so…preoccupied with Camden’s health these months.  I should have seen what he was doing.  I should have known what was happening, and I should have suspected it, yet I did not.  Can you ever forgive me for my neglect?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” I replied.  “You could not have known, and your duty lies here with Camden.”

“My duty goes far beyond his care,” she said.  “I cannot ignore the rest of the kingdom in my sorrow, and I know you are aware of this.  I should have recognized Branford’s behavior and fixed this long ago.  Please, forgive me.”

“Of course.”  I nodded, knowing it was better to accept her apology than to argue the necessity of it.

We both looked at Branford as he stood from the side of the bed, and Camden’s hand dropped against the mattress.  Branford walked slowly toward us, and Sunniva’s eyes went wide.

“Is he…?” she croaked.

“Sleeping,” Branford said with a slow shake of his head.  “But he is in much pain.  The sickness has made his breathing shallow.  I do not think…”

He did not need to complete his sentence.

Sunniva nodded, and her eyes brimmed over with tears again.  Branford sat on her other side and took her into his arms as he looked at me, his eyes pleading.  I did not know for what but thought perhaps he only desired the impossibility of changing what was happening.

If only I had such power.

Branford released his mother and stood again, motioning for me to follow.  As I stood, he told me the hour was turning late, and we should retire to our rooms.  I had not realized it was well into evening time.  We had spent nearly the entire day in this room.

“A moment with you first,” Queen Sunniva said pointedly to Branford.  He glanced from her to me and back again.

“Of course,” he replied with his tone questioning.  “Alexandra, I will join you shortly.”

I could only nod and walk away with trepidation in my heart, knowing full well of what our queen wished to speak.   I walked slowly back to our rooms down the hall, noting Dunstan’s presence not far behind me and offering him a half smile and a nod. I closed the door as I entered and leaned back against it for a moment as I tried to rein in the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

Sunniva was telling Branford what I had revealed to her.

Edgar had threatened me personally with grave harm.

Camden was dying.

I wiped at my cheek with the back of my hand and steeled myself against my thoughts as I performed mundane tasks to avoid such thinking.  It would serve me no purpose now.  I put a kettle of water next to the fire so I could make Branford’s tea when he returned and perhaps even shave him if he so desired.

I wished Amarra’s pups were old enough to leave her so she could return to our room.  I missed her constant presence here.  I brushed away the hair that had collected on her cushion, and fluffed it up before placing it back on its low platform.

I sipped my own tea, presumably prepared by Janet.  It was cold from this morning and bitter tasting.  However, I knew my monthly pains were greatly reduced by the drink, so I drank it down quickly before busying myself around our rooms.  I straightened the linens on the bed and pulled together the pile of clothing near the changing screen so it could be collected and washed.  By the time Branford returned, the rooms were nearly spotless.

I looked at him as he entered the room and closed the door softly behind him.  His gaze was downcast and his pace slow as he crossed the room.  He did not meet my eyes, and I felt the same feeling of near dread as he took my hand and pulled me away from the fire.  He positioned me in the center of the room and released my hand.   As he had years ago, Branford slowly lowered himself to his knees before me.

“Alexandra…” he started to say, but his voice faltered.  He looked at the ground, then back to me again before he swallowed hard and continued.  “I never…I did not understand…”

His eyes widened as he stared up into my face, and I saw his tongue dart out to moisten his lips.

“Did not understand what?” I asked in a whisper.

“What you need from me,” he replied.  “I think constantly of your needs, but I only understand…I know what your body needs.  I provide for you—make sure you are protected.  It is all that has crossed my mind these months—what I must do to protect you!”

His eyes beseeched me, and I brought my hand to cover my mouth at the pain I saw there.  I tried to reach for him, but he would not accept my touch.

“I thought…I thought you must hate the sight of me…”  He reached up and gripped his hair with his hands and dropped himself back to sit upon his heels.

I started to reach for him again but stopped as he stared at me.

“No,” he then said, and shook his head rapidly.  “That is not true.  I hated myself for what I had done.  I could not bear to look at your face because…because…”

He shook his head violently as he shoved himself up from his position on the ground and walked away, slamming a fist into the wall.  I cringed and closed my eyes, waiting for his anger to subside.

“Because I was afraid!”  Branford finally cried as he turned back around to face me.  “I was afraid of what I would see!  Afraid to see the loathing I feel for myself reflected in your beautiful eyes.”

He dropped his hands, and his arms hung loosely at his sides.

“I am a coward,” he whispered.

“Branford…no.”  I took a step toward him.

“I am,” he said.  “I’m a coward and an idiot.  Alexandra, please…hear me out.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and nodded.

“I have hurt you,” he stated.  “It was not my intent, yet it happened anyway.

“You barely spoke to me,” I replied as I turned my head and closed my eyes tightly.

“You would not have wanted me here,” he said quietly.  “I have been…”

He stopped and sighed heavily, approached me, and dropped back to his knees.  I looked down to see him once again and reached out to touch his rough cheek.

“I wanted you here,” I said.  He shook his head.

“I am…”  Branford paused, and when my fingers brushed his face, I could feel his jaw clenched tightly.  “I am afraid.  Afraid for you.  I brought you into my world to insult King Edgar, and insult him I have, but he does not intend to take the insult out on me and my army.  He plans to take it out on you.  I have put you in terrible danger out of arrogance and lust for revenge.”

He grasped his thighs as he looked up into my eyes.

“I never should have brought you here,” he whispered vehemently.  “You are in peril, and it is my fault!  I am to blame!  How can you look at me, knowing I did this to you?  Now that you know what he will do if I do not have an heir soon or if I refuse Whitney next month—he will not just…just kill you.”

He stopped speaking abruptly, and I could sense the pounding of his heart in his chest and see the panic in his eyes.

“I did not want you to hear him speak such things,” he said.

“He has said worse,” I said, presuming.

“He has.”  I saw and felt his anger blaze in his eyes.  “I will not allow you to be touched, my wife.  I would…I would sacrifice my kingdom before I would allow that to happen.”

“Branford, you cannot—”

“I can!” His eyes blazed.  “I would sacrifice all of them before I would let him touch you!”

He closed his eyes and tightened his hands into fists against his legs.  He took several breaths before he looked up at me again.

“And I will protect you,” he repeated.  “Though my mistakes have been many, still I have not failed you in regard to your physical safety, for at least this is something I understand.”

He looked away again, trying to gather his thoughts.

“But what Sunniva told me…the ways I have failed you that I did not even consider…”

I wanted to reach out to him, for I hated seeing him like this in front of me.  It was not his place.  He should kneel to no one.  I wanted to tell him as much, but as he looked at me, he again begged me with his eyes.

“I was hiding from myself, Alexandra,” he said,” not from you.”

I shook my head, not understanding.

“I did not even think that you might feel that way,” he said.  “When Sunniva told me, it was clear, but I do not know of these things.  I know how to provide and protect you; I do not know how to make sure you are happy.  I only knew I was miserable, and if I was near you, I thought I would make you miserable as well.”

“I wanted to be there for you,” I whispered.  “I knew it would be difficult…for us both…but you would not give me the chance to comfort you.”

“Why would you want to?” he asked.  All of his anger was gone.  There was only pain and confusion left.  “It was my choices—my war—that brought us to this.  Why would you offer me comfort?”

“You are my husband,” I whispered and felt my tears fall.

“But I caused this,” he said again.  “I thought it would be better for you…”

He shook his head again.

“I am still lying to myself,” he muttered.  “It was better for me, so I did not have to see in your eyes what you thought of me and what I have done.  I have practically delivered Silverhelm to Edgar on a silver platter with my selfish desires.”

“You didn’t know,” I said to him.  “His armies came from nowhere.”

Branford’s gaze darted to mine and then over to the door.  He seemed about to say something and then silenced himself.  He reached out, and I placed my hand in his.

“Alexandra, please forgive me for being so utterly ignorant,” he said.  “I did not think how my actions would appear to you or understand that it is not only your body I must provide for but also your mind and heart.”

“Branford…”

He stood slowly then and took my face between his palms.

“I love you so much, my wife,” he told me.  “I never stopped—I swear it!  I am just a stupid, violent, and selfish man who did not know what you needed and did not bother to ask.  I should have known.  I should have asked, but I did not.  Can you ever, ever forgive me?”

I stared into his glowing green eyes and felt the weight and truth of his words as they flowed over me.  I did not need his apology.  Just knowing that he was not lost to me was all I really needed, and I told him so.

“I do not know what else you need from me,” Branford said.  “Beyond the physical, I am ill-informed, but I will learn if you will teach me.”

“I will tell you,” I said, “if you will allow it and not reject me again.”

“Never,” he said with certainty, and his lips brushed timidly across mine.  He looked at me then, and I could see the questions forming in his eyes.  “Does it really…please you…to care for me?”

“It does,” I replied with a nod.

“Will you bathe me, Alexandra?”

I smiled up and him and took him by the hand to the washbasin.  I warmed his bathing water as he removed his shirt and replaced his trousers with those he slept in.  I washed his arms, chest, and back before changing into my own sleeping gown as he drank the tea I made for him.

He was already in our bed as I approached, and I was feeling strangely shy as I had in the first days of our marriage.  He smiled up at me, and I could feel his own hesitation as I took my place at his side, and he enveloped me softly in his arms.

“You feel so good against me,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.  I rested my cheek over his heart.  “It feels right to have you here.”

“I was here while you were not,” I said quietly, hating my own words because I knew they would cause him pain.  “I was waiting for you.”

I felt his body stiffen.

“Is it too late?” Branford asked in a breathy voice.  “Have I hurt you too much?  Alexandra…have I already lost your heart?”

I reached for his rough cheek, and my fingers caressed his skin.

“No, my Branford,” I whispered to him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a held breath.  I could see his throat bob as he swallowed before opening his eyes to me again.

“I love you,” he told me, “more than anything, ever.  I never, ever wished to hurt you as I have.  I am an utter fool, my wife, but I never meant you harm—I swear it.”

“I know,” I replied.  I felt warm wetness on my cheeks as my tears escaped.

He moved his head closer, approaching me slowly with questioning eyes.  I nodded slightly, and he covered my mouth with his.  Our lips moved slowly against each other’s, and when his tongue touched my mouth, I opened to him.  He groaned into me, and his arms wrapped slowly and tightly around me.

With a quick roll, I found myself supine beneath his body.

He continued to kiss at my collarbones as he deftly untied the laces down my front.  I lifted myself from the bed as he slowly pulled the garment from my body, his eyes taking in the sight of me.  He rose up on his knees and quickly rid himself of his own clothing.  I heard it drop to the floor beside our bed, and Branford positioned himself on top of me with his weight supported by his hand beside my head.  He kissed me deeply again on the mouth, then trailed kisses up my jaw and down my throat.

“I have missed this so much.”  He breathed against the skin of my neck.  “Missed you so much…”

I reached up and placed my hands on his cheeks.

“I love you,” I told him.  “Always.”

Supporting himself on one hand, he gathered both of my hands in his free one.  Branford kissed my fingers—each in turn—then laid my hands at my sides as he started using his mouth and hands on my breasts, then my stomach, and then the curve around to my hips.  The feeling of his fingers over my body was indescribable, and as he moved toward my center, my breath hitched and my heart began to pound.

The warmth of his mouth on me made me shiver, the sensations rising up through my body until I gasped.  His tongue circled around, then dipped lower, pushing inside of me as he tasted from my body.  He moved his fingers up and down between my legs and then focused at the apex, circling in a slow, steady rhythm.

The muscles in my legs tensed, and I reached for his head.  He ran his tongue up and circled the spot where his fingers had played, and I felt him reach inside me, moving gracefully and penetrating me deeply.  As his fingers curled upward, he pushed down with his tongue and sucked at me as I came undone around him, crying out his name.

I could feel his smile as he kissed up my body.  His fingers slipped from inside of me and spread moisture throughout my folds.  The tip of him pressed solidly against my opening, and he pushed slowly with his hips.

I was surprised at how he stretched me as he entered—my body resistant to the intrusion it had not felt in so long.  He moved slowly, gently filling me until I felt him inside of me completely.

“Are you all right?” Branford asked softly with his lips pressed to my ear.  “You feel so tight around me…”

“Yes…please…more…”  It was all I could manage to mutter in reply.

He obliged and began his slow movements in and out of me, creating the friction my body desired as he moaned softly into my hair.  I wrapped my arms tightly around his back, and my hips rose up to meet his thrusts, rising partway off the mattress as I strained to touch more of him.  This is what I had missed—not the act itself or the pleasure it brought but the feeling of the way he gave himself to me completely as I gave my heart and soul to him.

With my head tossed backwards, I cried out for my husband as my body shook and trembled in ecstasy.  His long fingers stroked over my shoulders and breasts as his mouth tasted my skin over and over again.  I felt the tension in his broad shoulders as his movements inside of me quickened, and his eyes closed as he filled me deeply.   He was still for a moment, and then his arms seemed to give out as he collapsed on top of me.

I could hear his whispered words of prayer though I could not make them out.  He tried to roll a little to the side in order to relieve me of some of his weight, but I held fast to him, relishing the feeling of his body atop mine.

He found the spot on my neck with his lips, and I felt the trace of his tongue over my skin.  He licked and sucked and kissed there for a minute before settling his forehead against my shoulder and letting out a long, slow breath.

“I love you, my beautiful wife,” he whispered into my skin.  “I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I promise I will be better to you.  I will think of everything you need—be it of mind or body—and I will, someday, be worthy of the love you have bestowed upon me.”

“You are everything to me, my Branford.”

*****

My head felt heavy and warm with the coming of sleep.

I was wrapped in my husband’s arms, feeling the slow, methodical brush of his hand over my hair as my head lay against his chest.  Though my thoughts were still in turmoil, I could feel the warmth and security of his embrace once again against my heart.

Though I did not wish to think of it, my mind replayed the threat Edgar made in the great room, and my thoughts ever since had been conjuring images of what might happen.  Would he truly do as he said?  What if he did come here with his army, and Branford were killed?  My stomach clenched as I thought of what he said he would do to me, and an involuntary shudder ran through my body.

“What are you thinking?” Branford asked quietly.

I shook my head quickly, trying to avoid the answer, but I felt his hand under my chin, and I looked at his face.  His eyes were deep with worry.

“You are thinking of what he said?”  Though it was a question, I knew from his expression he was well aware, so I nodded slightly in response.  “I wish you had not heard such talk.  I never wanted your beautiful face contorted in fear of him.”

“He has said these things before?”

Branford nodded.

“You did not tell me.”

“I did not wish to encumber you with those worries.”

“I want to know,” I told him.  “I wish to share your burden.  Will that not be my duty as queen?”

“It is my duty,” Branford said, “and my load to bear.  I want you to think only of joyous things, not to be plagued with the worries I suffer.”

“I would rather know,” I said.  My skin crawled from my own words as it often did when I told a servant what to do or expressed a difference in opinion to my husband or another royal.  I reached up and touched the side of his face.  “Otherwise, I think…I thought you did not love me any longer.”

“Alexandra,” he whispered, and his brow furrowed, “I will never stop loving you.”

“Branford,” I said as I sat up a little.  His hand dropped from my hair.  “Am I not your wife?”

“Of course you are!”

“Then please…please let me also care for your mind as well as your body,” I said, using the words he had spoken to me earlier.  “Let me share your burden.”

He looked at me for a long moment before his hands rose to cup my face.

“You truly wish this?” he asked softly.

“I do.”

He seemed to contemplate, then gave a slight nod.

“You are—as always—my better,” he said, and he lifted his head from the pillow to capture my lips.  I kissed him softly and then lay my head back upon his chest to listen to his slow, steady breathing and the beat of his heart.

“I love you,” I told him.

“And I love you,” he replied.  “I hope I will be better at showing you this in the days before us.  It is my wish for you to be happy—”

A knock at the door interrupted Branford’s words, and he growled as he slipped from the bed and went to see who was there.  A moment later he returned, his face ashen and his eyes staring toward me without seeing.

“Camden…” he whispered, his voice shaking on the single word.

And that is when I knew our king was dead.