Though I should have expected it, the blaring of the trumpets startled me.

I looked up at the castle walls and could not begin to count the number of people there—trumpeters, nobles, and commoners alike.  Though I had attended spectacles where most of the castle-dwellers and several nearby commoners were present, it was nothing like this.

When I first learned about Branford’s kingdom, he spoke of the prior census of the lands, indicating some three thousand men, women, and children occupying the lands surrounding the castle.  It seemed as though every one of them was here now.

They were here to witness the coronation of their new king.

Messengers had gone out in the middle of the night, announcing at the same time the death of King Camden and the crowning of King Branford.  The ceremony was a formality—a spectacle for the people, since the crown had been placed on Branford’s head as his father’s body cooled.  The kingdom could not be without a king—not even for a moment.

My mind summoned memories of the early hours of the morning.

I had followed Branford back to the king’s chambers and was immediately met by a crushingly distraught Sunniva.  I held her, keeping her from falling to the floor as Branford approached Camden’s bed.  I stared, unable to remove my gaze from Branford as he reached out and touched his adoptive father’s hand.  He flinched back immediately, and I could see a shudder run through his bare shoulders.

Others in the court had gathered in the hallway as the news spread through the castle.  Father Tucker approached, stepping around Sunniva and me as he made his way to Branford’s side.  He spoke quietly to him, and I could not make out the words.  He also reached for Camden’s hand and then touched his face and the side of his neck.  He stood and turned toward the open doorway.

“The king is dead,” he said to all in the room.  He turned back to the king’s body and took the crown from the small platform above Camden’s head.  Branford stood motionless as the symbol of the kingdom’s leadership was placed upon his head.  “Long live the king!”

“Long live King Branford!” the voices from behind me began to chant.  Branford turned slowly to them, looking upon his subjects with a pale face and shock in his eyes.

He didn’t look that different now.

As Branford left my side and walked through the swarm of people, the crowd barely contained by the guard, he managed to hold in the numbness I knew he still felt in his heart.  He would not display it in front of his people.

I felt Ida’s hand against my back, signaling me to follow Branford’s strides toward the raised platform near the castle gates.  As I walked through the opening and into the view of the crowd, a cheer rose up that was even louder than the cries for their new king.  I felt my face burn in embarrassment but managed to force my feet to take me through the throngs of people and up the steps to stand next to my husband and king.

Though the crown was already officially transferred, Sunniva placed the simple gold circlet upon Branford’s head.  He then, in turn, took the crown that had adorned Sunniva’s head for many years and placed it on mine.  As the crowd continued to call out to us, Branford leaped up on Romero, and I was placed in front of him before we rode slowly around the castle.

The people cheered as Branford waved.  I gripped his arm as he held me against his chest, and his mouth breathed warm air to my ear.

“They love you,” he said.  “They see you so clearly.”

I felt heat rise to my face again as Branford pressed his lips to my cheek, and the cheers of the people of Silverhelm grew louder.

“Long live King Branford!  Long live Queen Alexandra!”

The chanting became deafening as Branford slowly directed Romero down the streets, the stallion’s tail swishing at the ruckus around us.  People who could get close enough to us reached out to touch Romero’s flanks as well as Branford’s legs and the skirt of my dress.

“I believe they would do anything for you.” Branford sighed as his arm held me tighter.  “I have so much to learn—so much to make up for—but I can only hope to be as good a king as you will be a queen.”

*****

Our deadline was fast approaching.

Within a week, I would either be in the Women’s Room yet again with my husband’s concubine in tow, or one of us would be with child.  If this did not happen, King Edgar would strike—either with his army or with his daughter.

King Edgar and Princess Whitney had come to the castle on their weekly visit in order to make that fact as clear as possible to Branford, who still struggled with the loss of his adoptive father, the grieving former queen, and his wife whose body would not produce the heir he needed.

Most of the court, myself included, had been removed from the great hall hours ago.  I had stayed in the royal chambers to try to place things where I wanted them, for we had been moved into our new rooms only a few days before.  Amarra walked around the room, sniffing at the corners and examining the spot by the fire where her bed had been placed on its platform.  Janet arranged my dresses, and I took care of Branford’s clothing.  He did not like my handmaid touching his things.

“Where shall I put these?” Janet asked as she held up a small box filled with jewelry Branford had purchased for me.

“Over there,” I said as I pointed at the chest of drawers near the bed.  “Up on top.”

“Yes, Lady Alex—yes, my queen.”

I chuckled a little.  It had been difficult for Janet, who addressed me so frequently, to change my title.  She apologized for it often, and it reminded me of the first days with Branford, when I could not stop referring to him as my lord.

My Branford.

Janet and I continued to organize the rooms.  I was glad she still seemed to be able to chat with me, regardless of the crown that was now on my head.

“Watch, Janet,” I said as I bent down to organize all of Branford’s things on the shelf under the water basin.  He was quite particular about where they went, and I was careful to put them in the same positions they had been in before.

“I see, my queen,” Janet said.  She stood up and smiled at me.  “I keep thinking maybe if I…if I can do everything right, maybe someday…”

She did not finish her sentence, but I knew what she meant.

“Branford has a very difficult time accepting people,” I told her softly.  “It is his nature to not trust.”

“I have tried to serve him as I do you,” she replied.  “What else can I do?”

I shook my head slowly.

“There is nothing, I’m afraid,” I told her.  “Perhaps in time he will become accustomed to your presence enough not to be so harsh with you.”

“Does he think my performance inadequate?”

“No,” I said, trying to reassure her.  I walked over to Janet and placed my hands on her shoulders.  “Your service is exemplary, and I have told him such.  Besides, you are also a good friend to me.”

Janet’s cheeks darkened, and she smiled shyly.

“Surely not,” she said quietly.  “I am but your servant.”

“You are my friend,” I said, insisting.  When she looked up at me, I hugged her.  She placed her arms around my back and held me for a moment.  When I released her, there were tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, my queen,” she whispered.  “I enjoy being at your side more than you will ever know.”

We went back to our work for a time, but soon I needed a reprieve.  I stepped out of the room just to get away from it for a while.  It felt very strange to be in the royal chambers at all.  I had been comfortable in our rooms before, and now all I could think was that Camden had died here.  Even though the bed and the rest of the furniture were from our other room, it still felt unnatural.  The only thing I truly enjoyed about the room was that it was there where I could remove the crown that had been placed upon my head.

Branford had talked before about not wanting the crown—not wanting to be king.  I had never really thought much about how it would change my position.  Everything in my life still felt so strange to me, even after more than two years.  In my mind, I spent more days feeling like a servant than I did a noble.

I reached up to my head and felt the cool metal that circled it.  Though it was not a large crown, it felt heavy on my head.  I leaned against the stone wall that overlooked the gardens and breathed in the fresh air for a moment.  It always helped to clear my head.  Just as I was about to turn back, I saw movement near the entrance and watched Branford walk quickly into the gardens with Princess Whitney at his heels.  As Branford tried to escape from her, Whitney berated him from behind.

“You know it will happen, Branford,” Whitney said.  “You are not prepared for war, so why do you hold out when the outcome is inevitable?  You know I will be your queen.”

“You and your father underestimate me,” Branford replied curtly.

“Well, you are very well versed in the art of underestimating your opponents!” she said with a laugh.  “That is why your kingdom is in shambles and at our mercy.”

“You should, perhaps, remember your place,” Branford said to her.  “If you are here to convince me to marry you, another approach might be more successful.”  He laughed, and the sound was cruel.  I had never heard such a noise from him before.  “As if I would ever consider it!”

“You need an heir,” she said, and her hand grasped that of my husband.  She pulled him to her, and though I could see the resistance in his shoulders, he still allowed her to place his hand upon her belly.  “I can give you one.  I do not even care if you keep her in a room close to us as long as I am queen, and she is a servant, as she should be.”

“I will not do that!” Branford snapped at her as he pulled away and turned his back on her.  He began to walk out of the garden.

“It will happen, Branford!” she called after him.  “Either you do it now without bloodshed, or you are forced to do it later with a sword at your back!”

I heard her laughter flow up from the gardens below as she slowly followed my husband out of my view.  At that moment, I wished I had been taught the skills of an archer so I could pierce her heart where she stood.

Branford did not return to our rooms for some time.  When he did, his mood was foul.  I knew it was her doing and tried to get him to speak of it with me.  He all but refused, stating there was nothing new to discuss.

“I only wish to know what you are thinking,” I told him, “and feeling.”

“Nothing has changed,” he replied.  “Edgar threatens me, Whitney annoys me, and the court waivers on what action they wish me to take.  With Lord William here supporting me, it is easier, but I wish Parnell would return from Seacrest.  He has been there a week now, and I hoped he would be back with…news.”

“Which news is this?”

Branford shook his head, his lips clamped tight together.  He looked around us and raised his hands to the air and his eyes to the ceiling in frustration.

“You will not tell me,” I said softly.

“I cannot tell you,” he said through clenched teeth.  “Not here.  Not now.”

“You said you would.  You said you would not shut me out.”

“I will not,” he replied.  “When the time is right, I will tell you.  When I know there is no one else listening, I will tell you everything.”

His gaze danced to the door and back to me again.  It had become an almost automatic response whenever we spoke.  Too many spies had been discovered within the castle walls though none close to the royal chambers.  I had to wonder if he did not use his own paranoia as an excuse to keep me from worrying.

“You keep saying that,” I said, “but it has yet to come to pass.  You are still keeping me at a distance.  You do not tell me your thoughts.”

I tried to keep the emotion from my voice, but I was not completely successful.  He reached up to cup my face as he looked down at me.  His mouth covered mine, and the warmth of his lips made me feel safe again as it always did.  I knew he did it to distract me though that did not hinder its effectiveness.

“What must I do to prove it to you?” he asked after a few minutes.  “There are some things I cannot speak of if I am not sure we cannot be heard.”

“Tell me how often you think of me.” I made my request through persistent kisses.

“Always,” he replied.

“When?”

“Yesterday, when I was teaching young Stephens to use his shield as a weapon.  I was distracted because I was thinking of the first time I took you to the meadow and the sounds you made when I touched you.  And that led me to think of the last time we were there, when you cried out so loudly all the pheasants took flight.”

I looked up into his eyes and there was no doubt in my mind he spoke the truth.

“Thank you.”  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“Is that what you need?  To hear these words from me?”

“Yes.”

“You are everything…in my every thought…”

“Could we go there again?” I asked.

“To the meadow?”  Branford frowned.  “I do not know if that is wise…”

“Why would it not be?” I asked.

“I do not wish for you to worry,” he replied.

“Branford”—I sighed and tilted my head as I looked up into his face, but he refused to meet me with his eyes—“you promised me.  Do not hide things from me any longer.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them to find mine.  His mouth turned up slightly and his hand came up to brush across my lips.

“As you wish, my queen,” he said quietly.  “Shall we go in the afternoon?”

*****

Branford dismounted, reached up, and lifted me from Romero.  He pulled the basket containing our lunch from the back of the horse’s saddle as I spread the bright green blanket on the ground.  Branford dropped the food on the edge of the cloth and looked over into the woods.

“Come sit with me?” he asked, and he reached for my hand.

“Of course,” I replied.  His fingers covered mine, and he pulled them to his lips before settling us both on the blanket.

“You recall last month when I attended court in Hadebrand without you?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied.

“I rode past Sterling Castle,” Branford said.  “I took another route, which was not the straight path, just so I could get a better look at it.  It had been so long since I had seen it, but I do not know what to think of what I saw there.”

“What did you see?” I asked.

“Many men—workers, mostly.  They could have been carpenters, masons, or both.  They were bringing building materials from the field outside the castle walls into the gate.  I could not determine exactly what they were doing, only that they have completely torn apart the east tower.”

“Why would they do such a thing?” I asked.  “I thought Edgar wanted Sterling Castle?”

“As did I,” Branford said.  “His actions make no sense to me.”

The sun warmed us as we ate and spoke softly to each other.  Though Branford attempted to keep the conversation light, I was hoping out here—where there were no ears—he would speak more freely.

I was mistaken.

“I heard Whitney harassing you in the gardens,” I finally admitted.

Branford looked at me sideways.

“Eavesdropping again?”

“You still do not tell me everything.”

“I knew you were listening,” he said with a shrug.  “You always look over that spot when you are thoughtful.”

I didn’t realize he had noticed.

“She wants to claim you,” I said.

“And her argument is always the same,” he said with a nod.  “At some point…”

“At some point, what?” I asked.

“We still have no child on the way,” he finally said, “and the summer is getting late.”

“There is still some time,” I said.

“Not according to the court,” Branford replied.  There was something in his tone I disliked immensely.

“Will they side with him?” I asked quietly.  Though Branford’s word would still be taken as law, not to have the support of the court in his decisions could lead to distrust and eventually upheaval or even worse—revolt.

“Edgar has officially made the declaration I have known he would,” Branford said.  “He has decreed you unfit as the wife of a noble and a queen.  He has demanded that I denounce you and take Whitney as my wife.  If I do not, he will take Silverhelm by force and place Sir Remy on the throne here.”

Branford turned and placed his hand on my cheek.

“I refused,” he replied softly.

“He has declared war?  Openly?”

“He has given me no other options, Alexandra.”  Branford released my cheek and sat back, pulling his knees up in front of him.  “The court will side with him if I do not have an heir on the way.”

“Hadley said…she said you stopped coming to her.”

Branford glanced at me sideways.

“She was not supposed to speak of it,” he mumbled.  “Obviously she is unable to bear children, or she…”

He stopped speaking and rubbed his fingers into his eyes.

“I do not wish to speak of this,” he said.  “I will not go back to her.”

I bit my lower lip as I looked away from him.  The conversation I had with Hadley in the Women’s Room filled my head.  I swallowed hard and then turned to him—steeling myself to speak words that would likely mean death if they were to come from someone else’s mouth.

“What if it is not Hadley who cannot bear a child?” I asked quietly.  My shoulders curled inward with the tension held in them.

“Obviously she cannot bear a child,” Branford said with a growl.  “If she could, she would have by now!”

“But what if it is not her?” I repeated as I closed my eyes.

“What else could it be, Alexandra?”

“Branford…”  I paused and took a deep breath.  “It could be you.”

“Do not be ridiculous.”

“But what if it is?” I asked.  “What if it is you who cannot father a child, and it has nothing to do with either me or Hadley?”

He shook his head.

“Branford, if it is you, it would not matter how many concubines you took.  It wouldn’t matter if you married Whitney!”

“It is not me, Alexandra.”

“It could be.”

“No, it could not,” Branford insisted as he glared at me.  “Even making such a suggestion…”

“How do you know it could not be you?” I finally said back to him.  When he did not respond, I pressed again and again until he gave me an answer that had never taken form in my mind.

“Because I have already fathered a child!” Branford screamed as his fists pounded against the ground.  He stood and walked several feet away from me.

My head dropped forward as I stared at a spot on the blanket in front of where I sat.  I felt chilled though the breeze through the meadow was warm.

“Branford?” I whispered.  Though my voice was low, he turned toward me, his eyes downcast.

“I was young,” he said quietly.  “I did not think of the consequences of…of spilling my seed inside of her.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Bridgett, the daughter of the Duke of Seacrest.”

I looked up then and stared into his face.

“Why did you not say this before?” I asked, my voice filled with uncustomary censure.  “Could not this child be your heir?”

When he did not respond, I reconsidered and then questioned him again.

“Is it a girl child?”

“She…was.” Branford took a long breath and tugged at his hair with his fingers.  “She lived but a few weeks before an illness took her.”

So this was not going to help us at all, but just another piece of information Branford had never thought to bestow upon me.

“Did you not think it was important to tell me you had a child before?”

“She did not live,” Branford said with a shake of his head.  “I do not wish to—”

“To burden me!” I cried out and saw him startle.  “I know you do not!  And yet you do all the time by not giving me the information I need to know!”

“I am surprised Sunniva never told you.”

“She should not have to tell me!” I said.  I also stood and took several steps toward him as he backed away.  “What else should I know?”

“Nothing, Alexandra, I swear,” he said as he continued to tug at his hair.

Without warning, Branford’s eyes widened, and his head tilted a little to one side.  He rushed toward me and grabbed me by my arms.  For the briefest moment, I was frightened.  I had raised my voice and insulted not only my husband but my king.

His reaction surprised me.

His lips crashed against mine, and his mouth stole my breath.  He was not gentle but kissed me as his hands groped my body, and his tongue eagerly sought my mouth.  He pulled my body close to his, turning me to the side and away from the path where we had entered the meadow.  His mouth left mine as he kissed up the side of my jaw.

His lips touched my ear.

“Do not stop,” he whispered softly.  “We have been followed, and they are close, but do not stop.”

“Branford…” I tried to catch my breath, my eyes wide.

“Close your eyes!” he said, and I quickly complied.  His grip on me tightened.

“Who?”

“I do not know,” he replied.  “But I have no doubt—”

Branford was interrupted by a short scream from the woods.  There were the sounds of a scuffle and the breaking of branches, followed by another muffled groan and a thump.

“Sire!”  I heard Sir Brigham’s voice coming from the woods near the path.

Branford pulled me behind him as he took a step forward.

“Brigham!” he called out.  “Where is Dunstan?”

“I’m here, sire!” Dunstan called out.  I saw movement in the trees and recognized his shuffling walk.  “It is safe.”

Branford trailed his hand down my arm and grasped my fingers.  He pulled me behind him as he approached the group.  Dunstan had his crossbow drawn, and Sir Brigham’s sword was in his hand as well, the metal shining with dark blood.  There were two men on the ground, one with an arrow through his throat and the other with a sword wound through his back.

I gasped, and Branford turned to pull my head to his chest.

“Close your eyes, Alexandra,” he whispered into my hair and then addressed the two men.  “I told you not to attack.”

“He was taking aim, sire,” Dunstan said.  “I know this one.  I remember him from the war.”

“Randall,” Sir Brigham replied.  “He led one of the groups against us.  This other one, though—I have never seen him before.”

“I know who he is,” Branford said.  I looked up from his chest and saw him scowling at the ground.  I could feel his heart hammering underneath my cheek.

“Sire?” Sir Brigham inquired.

“His name,” Branford said after he took a long breath, “was Dalton.  He helped murder my father and mother.”

I moved my hand to his shoulder, and he looked down at me, his eyes empty.

“They came to kill us?”

Branford nodded.

“Do you think they would have targeted both of you?” Dunstan asked.

Branford turned back to his men.

“This just proves everything I have feared,” Branford said quietly.  “He will stop at nothing unless I…”

He turned to me, and the pain in his eyes hit me through the heart.  I knew what he was saying.

“You would allow this?”  I finally whispered.  “You would allow Edgar to push me from you?”

“You would still be with me,” he said quietly, looking away.  I reached up to touch the side of his face, but his eyes did not meet mine as he spoke.  “You would still have my heart—you would still be my only love.  You would take Hadley’s place as my concubine.”

I shook my head slowly.

“It would be much more commonplace in my position,” Branford said through clenched jaws, “to have you as my concubine.  Wives are for the politics of the show, and concubines are for love.  It will always be you I love, Alexandra.  You are the only one in my heart.”

“How can you say that when you would deny my place at your side?  The very first day you brought me here, you said you would defend my position.”

Branford covered his face with his hands.  He took several slow breaths and then turned to Sir Brigham.

“Go,” he said.  “We will return shortly.”

“Sire, I would not want to leave you unprotected…”

“Go!” Branford shouted.  “Leave now!  Send someone to deal with this…this mess.”

With only murmured protests, Sir Brigham and Dunstan returned to their horses and rode slowly away from us.

“Pack up our things,” Branford said to me.

“Get them yourself!” I spat back.  “Or perhaps your new wife will come get them!”

I stomped away, infuriated with Branford, with the dead men on the ground near his feet, with Edgar, with Whitney, and with myself.  I went to where Romero grazed on the other side of the meadow with Branford’s footsteps close behind me.

“You will not speak to me in such a way!” he yelled as he grabbed my arm and turned me around.  “I am your king whether you are my queen or my slave!”

He gripped my shoulders, and he pulled me close to him, his eyes blazing.

“Whether it is in the morning, midday, or night, you will speak to me with respect!  Even in twilight, you will know your place!”

The word he emphasized hit me as hard as if he had slapped me in the face, and I immediately understood.  We were not alone.  There were others still nearby, listening to us.  Whether they were also there to kill us or only to report back on what they had seen and heard, I did not know, but I knew we were most certainly not alone.

I swallowed hard and nodded my head once in understanding.

“Yes…yes, sire,” I responded as I stared into his deep, green eyes.

We rode quickly and quietly back to Castle Silverhelm, and though Branford never turned around to look behind us, I could feel the tension in his grip on me as we rode through the forest.  His head was tilted slightly, angling his ear toward our backs.  Once we returned, he leaned close to my ear and told me to make sure I did not go anywhere without my guard.

Branford slept little that night.

I could still feel the presence of Sir Brigham and Dunstan behind me as I strolled through the marketplace outside the castle gates the next morning.  I stopped near the fruit stand and purchased apples and pears, which I placed in a basket on my arm.  My guards followed at a respectable distance as I walked through the stalls though they came closer as I left the security of the castle walls.

There were a few children there, begging in the streets as they did most days.  I made sure they had something in their bellies before I moved on, further emptying my basket for the other unfortunate souls who had come as refugees from Wynton and other areas of Hadebrand.

“May God bless you,” an older woman who sat on the ground with her grandchild said as I left extra fruit in her lap.  The child’s parents were killed as supporters of Silverhelm after the prior war.  The woman reached for my hand, and I allowed her to take it and kiss my knuckles.  She was unable to work, and the boy was too young and weak with a sickness to offer her any assistance.   I smiled down at her and nodded my head.

As I handed my last apple to a man who seemed to still be in good health though he was thin and ragged looking, I saw Father Tucker approach with a smile on his face.  He was followed by a young lad in his service, who carried a bucket of water for the refugees.

“Good morning, Father Tucker,” I said quietly.

“My queen,” he responded as he bowed low to me.  I felt heat creep to my face.  Though I had grown accustomed to the commoners behaving in such a way, I thought Father Tucker above such behavior.  He was a man of God and should not have to bow to anyone else.  “How do you fare today?”

“Well,” I responded.

“You are making your rounds ahead of us this morning,” he remarked.  “It is still quite early.”

“The sun seemed warm already,” I replied.  “I thought it may be too hot for them to wait very long.  They will need to seek shelter from the sun.”

He nodded as he peered at my face.

“You seem troubled, my queen.”

“I am fine, thank you,” I replied.  He tilted his head and raised his brows at me.

“All is not well in the court?” he asked, his tone nonchalant.  He knew well what went on inside the castle walls.

“Branford is troubled,” I said.  “Our time is short and…”

I looked around though there was no one too close to us. I did not wish to alarm our people.

“I am still not…”  My words faltered.

“I understand, my queen.”

I looked to his eyes, and indeed, they did seem to hold understanding.  Perhaps he understood more than I.  I felt as though I did not understand any of it, and tears burned in my eyes as I looked at him.

“Why?” I asked him as I tried to blink the tears from my eyes.  “Why would we be denied this and have our people placed in harm’s way because of it?”

Father Tucker’s chest rose with his breath.

“Queen Alexandra,” he said softly as his fingers touched my arm, “there is only one who can answer such questions.  If that is what you seek, you will have to ask God.”

I nodded, and I knew he was right.

I continued along the walkway, my feet slowly carrying me to a place I had never frequented though I knew Branford had spent many hours at the chapel just outside the walls of Silverhelm Castle.  I glanced over my shoulder and saw both Dunstan and Sir Brigham stop at the bottom of the stairs to the doorway as I continued up.  They left me in peace as I opened the door to the church and slipped inside.  It was cool out of the sun though there was still bright light coming from the windows as well as the candles lining the front of the church near the altar.

I reached out and my fingers grazed over the smooth wood of the pews as I walked down the aisle.  The wood was warm, and the morning light coming through the stained glass windows cast bright colors over the floors and benches.  I reached the front of the chapel and gathered my skirts to walk up the few stairs that led to the altar.  I knelt and looked up at the colorful glass at the back of the church.  My lungs filled with the scent of the candles all around as I turned my eyes toward the ceiling.

“I do not know you as Branford does,” I said aloud.  “Perhaps that has been my failing.  I know Branford asks you time and time again to bless me with a child, and now…well, now it seems that is not to be.”

My voice cracked, and a sob escaped my throat.  My own words had a tone of finality to them, and I dropped my head into my hands as I knelt at the altar.  I did not understand what I had done wrong to bring all of this upon us.

“Have I not been a good enough wife?” I asked as trails of wetness began to coat my cheeks.  “Have I not done what was required of me to be worthy of him?  If there is anything I must do to make this work…to stay with Branford and give him the heir he needs myself…anything…I will do it.  I just…I do not know what I should do.”

Again, my eyes rose to the heavens.

“Please…please do not let this come to pass.  Do not let our people suffer another war because I cannot give my kingdom an heir.”

*****

It was as if my most horrific nightmare was coming true right before my eyes.  Court had convened to discuss Edgar’s threat of war.  Branford sat on his throne and vehemently refused their decree.  He said he would not renounce our marriage even if it meant going to war.  The court disagreed, and as they continued to remind him that war would be a slaughter, Branford continued to tell them it would only be a matter of time.  His advisor, Phillip, argued with nearly his every word.

“Even if I do this thing you ask,” Branford said, growling at his advisor, “which I will not, it does not stop war!  It only puts his puppet next to me instead of Alexandra!”

“I will stand behind you, whatever the decision,” Lord William announced, “but I know if war comes to Silverhelm and Silverhelm falls, the consequences will be dire for us all.”

“Alexandra,” Phillip said as he looked at me, “you know you do not want your people to suffer another war.  Look at Wynton and how they still suffer because of—”

“Enough!” Branford bellowed.  “You will not use her compassion against her!”

“Branford,” I said softly.  “Perhaps—”

“No!”

The doors opened at the end of the great hall.  King Edgar, Princess Whitney, and four of their guards entered.  They were early, which was undoubtedly their intent.  They walked quickly and with a clear objective.  King Edgar walked straight up to Branford while Whitney came to stand so close to me, I had to take a step backwards.

“The time has come, King Branford!” Edgar announced as he approached.  “Your discussions with your advisors are at an end, and my army stands at the ready.  Your decision must come now.”

Branford glanced at Dunstan as he hobbled into the room, trailing the guards.  I saw Dunstan nod once and knew Branford’s informants had confirmed Hadebrand was prepared to carry through with the threat.

Whitney sneered at me openly.

“You are early,” Branford said quietly.  “We have not yet reached our conclusion.”

“You have had more than enough time!” King Edgar yelled.  “Is it war you seek, King Branford?  Because I would rather end this peacefully and deliver your heir through my daughter, but I am also prepared to take Silverhelm by force.”

Silence followed, and my eyes darted to my husband as he sat staring blankly at Edgar.  Lord William looked between the kings, and I could see his hands shaking as he clasped them together.  Phillip seemed about to speak when Branford’s voice stilled him.

“I will speak with my queen,” Branford said softly, and his voice terrified me.

“Then go right ahead and—”

“Alone!” Branford yelled at Edgar.  “Do not try my patience any longer!”

“My army will be at your border by nightfall, King Branford.” Edgar sneered.  “Do not take too much time.”

He turned to go without a glance toward me.  Whitney leaned close as she turned, and her shoulder bumped into mine.

“Once this is over and done”—Whitney smirked as she passed by—“you will be dressing me in my nightgowns before I go to my husband.”

My stomach lurched.

She had not taken a half-dozen steps from me when the large doors were once again opened, and a loud voice called out from the other side of the long room.

“Stop!”

My heart began to pound again as I looked back over my shoulder and saw Sir Parnell rush through the large doors at the end of the great hall.  Behind him was a couple I had only seen a few times before—Sir Rylan and Lady Suzette from Seacrest.  I knew Branford had been trying to enlist their support in case war was inevitable.

Sir Rylan was dragging a woman by her arm.

“How dare you?” King Edgar stood and shook a finger toward Parnell as he walked in.  He took a few steps backwards to move himself into place beside Branford again.  “We are in session!”

Parnell ignored King Edgar as he approached Branford and the throne with the other three figures close behind him.  As they came closer, I could see the woman in Sir Rylan’s grasp was Lady Nelle, the woman who had been punished along with her sister, Lady Kimberly, during my first month as Branford’s wife.

“You must hear what she has to say, King Branford,” Parnell told him as Sir Rylan tossed the woman toward the ground in front of us.  Nelle yelped and then covered her mouth with her hand as she stayed on her knees before my husband, staring at the floor in front of her.

King Edgar stepped between Parnell and Branford, his eyes glaring intently down at Nelle.

“This is ridicu—”

“Silence!” Branford bellowed, stifling the neighboring king.  “I will hear her words, and you will remain silent while she speaks!”

Nelle looked from Branford to me and then to King Edgar.  I examined the expression on Edgar’s face and could see his veiled threat toward her.  She shuddered as she turned back to Branford, grabbing onto her knees.

“Speak!” Branford commanded her.  He took a step forward and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.  “Speak now, Nelle!  What is it you have to say?”

Edgar took a step forward, but Dunstan shuffled ahead, obstructing his path, standing tall and blocking the king’s view of the woman on the ground at Branford’s feet.

“Tell him,” Parnell said as he sneered down at her.  “Tell him what you know.”

I could not see his hand but knew it was near the woman’s back.  I wondered what he held, grasped in his fingers.

“King….King Branford…” she stammered.  “King Edgar has…plotted against you.”

Branford looked slowly over his shoulder to the other king and then back to Nelle.

“How so?”

I could see the poor woman’s hands shaking as she stared down at the hard wooden floor.  Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally uttered a word.

“It is the tea,” Nelle said softly.  “Lady Alexandra’s handmaid gives her a witch’s tea to keep her from becoming with child.  The concubine is given it as well.”

And that is when my prayer was answered.