Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts were haunted by images of flames.  My nostrils still burned with the smell of acrid smoke.  My emotions were everywhere—part of me mourning the loss of one of the few people I had considered a friend while also consumed with anger over what she had denied Branford and me all this time.  My anger was not even singular, for I was as angry with myself as I was with Janet.

“What is filling your mind?” Branford asked softly.  He laced his fingers through my hair as he held me against his chest.

“How could I have been so foolish?” I replied.  It was the thought that had been running through my head over and over again.  “After…after she said those things, and I thought back to all the times she would make sure I drank...”

I took a deep breath and brushed my fingers over the soft hairs that made a thin line down the center of his stomach.  His skin twitched beneath my touch, and I splayed my hand out on his abdomen.

“I thought she was just trying to take care of me, but now I see the memories in such a different light.”

I felt Branford nod as his chin touched the top of my head.

“I understand that feeling,” he said.

“I believed her,” I said, “but you never trusted her.”

Branford sighed.

“I rarely trust anyone,” he responded.  “I am not sure which method is the most advantageous.”

He touched my forehead briefly with his lips before he went back to stroking my hair.  I sighed and closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would finally come, but I could not relax.  My mind was full of too many questions.

“What will happen to King Edgar and Princess Whitney?” I asked.

Branford stilled a moment before responding.

“There is little I can do without openly declaring war,” Branford admitted.  “They are true royals—not like Nelle or Kimberly, who are mere nobles.  To kill someone from another royal family would not be looked upon favorably by other kingdoms.  Even with Rylan’s protection, we could not survive another war right now.”

“I do not understand,” I said.  “If Edgar was behind this…this plot to keep us childless, can he not be punished?”

“If we could prove his involvement, it would be possible.”  Branford rolled over to his side, taking me with him.  He propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at my face as his fingers stroked my cheek.  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “Still, it would be very difficult.  If there was direct proof—something much more tangible than a lesser noble’s claim—then I would not only have the justification to demand punishment but likely the backing of the other royal families.  Nelle’s confession was enough information to secure Seacrest and Rylan’s uncle, King Liam, in an alliance with Silverhelm but not enough to demand compensation.”

“Compensation?” I repeated, confused.

“Interfering with a royal bloodline is certainly an offense,” Branford informed me, “and would require Edgar to compensate Silverhelm if the allegations could be proven.”

“Compensate how?”

“Typically soldiers, grain, or gold,” Branford replied.  “He would never offer soldiers, of course, and his gold does not really interest me.  I must admit I would take the grain if it were offered.  There are still so many refugees going hungry in the outer regions.  In the eyes of the royals, that would make up for his part in Janet’s actions.”

“But if what Lady Suzette said was correct, and the tea was…was killing our…”

Unable to say it aloud, my words failed, and Branford wrapped his arms around my back.  I buried my face in the space between his shoulder and neck and tried to breathe regularly as Branford rocked me slightly in his arms.

“I know, my wife,” he said softly.  He tried to soothe me as I gathered myself together.

“Can he not be punished for that?” I finally asked as I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.

“Are you asking if I can have him executed for what he has done?”  Branford’s tone turned harsh.

I felt my shoulders tense, and the burning behind my eyes began again.  I thought again of the children we might have had…those that may have even started growing inside of me only to be destroyed before they had a chance at life.  I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“Yes,” I replied softly, surprised I could even speak.

“Not for that, no,” Branford replied.  “Only the direct murder of another royal could call for such a measure, and there would have to be undeniable proof.  If there was no need for that, I would have killed him years ago.”

“Because you believe he was behind your parents’ murders.”

“Yes.”

“But you have no proof.”

“None.”

“What if you did?”

Branford paused for a moment, and his gaze held a faraway look.

“That would change everything,” he finally said softly.  “If I could show the other royal families what he was capable of doing, they would all stand behind the massacre that would ensue.”

His gaze met mine.

“But as it is, I have only the belief in my heart.  They will never support any action without the proof.  If I were to move against him directly and personally, even in light of Janet’s actions, they would not stand for it, and the armies of some of the other kingdoms would side with Hadebrand.”

“They did not help him before,” I said.  Branford’s information about the military and how they formed alliances was much more forthcoming than it normally was, and I tried to take advantage of the situation.

“No,” Branford said, “but I do believe he hired many mercenaries—those who are only loyal to coin, not to a kingdom—to fight his battle for him.  It is the only way he could have gathered so many soldiers so quickly.  Our previous war was considered nothing more than a border dispute, but any attack on a royal family is seen as an affront to all royals.  If I were to attack now, he would garner more support from the surrounding kingdoms.”

I thought about this, and I supposed it made some sense.  How else would the royals avoid constant bloodshed between royal families if they did not protect each other even when they were not allies?  With such a rule, they would keep their own people and lands safe as long as there was no evidence of treachery.  It stopped them from fighting amongst themselves and discouraged any secretive foul play.  If all royal families would side with the offended family, who would dare go against a neighbor?

No wonder they killed their servants without a second thought.  They used us to quell their thirst for bloodshed against each other.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was no longer a servant but the Queen of Silverhelm.  My people would not be treated this way—not as long as I had any say in what happened.

And how often was that?

I found it strange that as a queen, I had little more true authority than I had before King Camden’s passing.  All authority resided with Branford, and my crown was really no more than a larger version of the ring around my finger.  I had freedoms, yes, but when it came down to making a decision, all eyes turned to my husband.

In the beginning, I would not have known what to say, regardless of someone asking my opinion, but the situation was different now.  I had seen the amount of luxury provided for those with my status and had made sure some of that was designated for our people.  Branford seemed indifferent to these actions though he did defend them when his advisor complained about the refugees loitering at the castle gates all the time.  I knew all too well that if Branford forbid me from doing something, I would have to obey—queen or not.  Just as Branford had to obey Camden’s decree to take Hadley as his concubine, I would have to obey any command from my husband.

Branford had never spoken directly of his involvement with Hadley.  I knew more of what transpired from Hadley than from my husband.  With everything that had happened this day, I supposed we would be releasing her from service.

“Branford?” I whispered against his shoulder.

“Hmm?” his sleepy voice replied.

“What will become of Hadley now?”

I felt his body stiffen next to me.  There was a long moment of silence before he responded with a low, almost raspy voice.

“What do you want to become of her?”  I could feel the tips of his fingers tense against the skin of my back.

“We should not need her services any longer,” I said quietly, baffled.  He seemed so hesitant with an answer I would have thought obvious.  Did he wish to keep her as his concubine?

“No,” Branford said softly, “we do not need her.”

He pushed away from me and sat up, placing his head in his hands as he bent over his knees.  I looked at him, confused and concerned by his reaction.  Did he wish to keep her with us in case I was unable to bear a child regardless of Janet’s treachery?  Was there some other reason he wanted her here?

“We never needed her!” Branford yelled suddenly, and I jumped as I stifled a small cry.  “I did not have to do any of it!  It was completely needless, and I never had to touch her at all…”

I brought myself up onto my knees and placed my hands on Branford’s shoulders, feeling relieved he did not want to keep Hadley as his concubine and at the same time, concerned at his outburst.  He lifted his head to look at me, and I could see the slight shine from wetness at the corner of his eyes.  He quickly looked away from me again, placing his forehead on his knees and wrapping his arms around his head.

“It was all for nothing,” he whispered.  “I hurt you for nothing.”

“You did not know, Branford,” I said softly as I tried to keep my own tears in check.  “None of us did.”

I felt his muscles tense under my fingers.

“Could she have known?” Branford turned to me, and his eyes were dark and terrifying.  “Did she know what I was doing was for naught?  She came from Hadebrand, Alexandra.  If she knew…if she lay there while I…knowing all along…”

His words were frightening, for I knew what he was saying and the implication that went along with it.  If he believed Hadley to be involved, her fate would be the same as my handmaid’s.

“Branford,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft and calm, “I also came from Hadebrand.”

His gaze locked with mine, and for the briefest of moments, I regretted my words.  Reminding him at this moment of where I grew up was likely not the wisest of words to come from my mouth.  I held my breath, waiting for his reaction and feeling—for the first time in many months—somewhat afraid of my husband’s temper.

Slowly, his gaze dropped back to his hands resting over his legs, and his eyes closed.  I felt his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths.  When his eyes opened again, he turned where he sat and placed his hands on my hips.

“I hate what I did,” Branford said, his eyes closed tightly as he touched his forehead to mine, “and to discover now how pointless it had been.  To know it was not necessary…it makes me…makes me want…”

I slid my fingers up the tense muscles of his arm, over his shoulder and jaw until I cupped his face with my hands.

“It is behind us now,” I told him.  “We have another chance.  I may still bear your child.”

“You will,” he said with conviction as his mouth covered mine suddenly.  His words became muffled against my lips as he angled me backwards against the mattress.  “You will have my child…no one else.  No one…ever…I swear…”

“But what if I cannot—”

“Hush,” he said, and his mouth covered mine again.

“But we do not know—” Again he cut off my words with his mouth.  His tongue touched my lips for a moment before he moved slowly to my chin and up my jaw.

“I will never, never touch another woman,” Branford whispered with hot breath into my ear.  “I would die before I ever let that happen again.  It almost killed me, knowing what I was doing to you…”

“I know, my Branford,” I replied.

“I hated it…hated what I was doing…hated myself for not knowing what else to do…”

“Hush,” I whispered, repeating the word he had used with me many times before.  My lips trailed over his neck.  “No more.  It is only us now…”

“How can you not hate me?”  He wrapped his arms tightly around me, and his body stilled completely atop mine.  “After so many mistakes and so many failures, how can you still trust me to provide for you and keep you safe?  How can you even believe the words that emanate from my mouth?”

Our eyes met, and I could see the sorrow darkening the green of his irises.

“I love you, Branford,” I reminded him.  “When I fell in love with you, I knew you were not a perfect man.  I would not stop loving you for making mistakes, especially those you believed were right at the time.  I only want you with me—loving me.  I do not expect perfection.”

“I am very far from perfect.” Branford agreed with a nod.  “Yet somehow I have been delivered you, so at some point I must have done something to please God.”

His lips brushed softly across my mine, and I felt his smile.

“After all, he did send me one of his angels.”

Heat rose to my face, and Branford quickly kissed each of my cheeks.  His fingers trailed down my side until they reached my hip.  Using it for leverage, he slowly entered me with a single thrust, then continued gradually, pulling nearly all the way out before burying himself in me again and again.  In this way, he slowly brought me over the edge before I felt the warmth of his climax inside of me.

He collapsed on top of me, and I relished the feel of his weight against my body.  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, holding him tightly to me as his hot breath coated my body.

“I will not let you down again.” Branford breathed against that spot of skin on my neck to which he was so often drawn.  “I will be at your side, protecting you, always.  Edgar would have to kill me before I would allow any harm to come to you again.”

*****

In the weeks that followed, Branford kept his word.  We were never far from each other, and if we were more than a few feet apart, it was when Branford trained with his army, or I was required in the Women’s Room.  Against my wishes, he brought a farm woman in from the borders of Silverhelm to prepare and test my food and drink before it was offered to me.  Though I argued against it, both Sunniva and Branford were adamant—my safety was more important, and the woman’s family would be well compensated for her loyalty.

Her name was Chelsea, and she spoke quickly and brightly of how honored she was to be placed in such a position, for the Commoner Queen—as I was apparently called in the borderlands—had to be protected.   Her family had lived in Silverhelm for many generations, and her father had served in Camden’s army years before.  Though I had heard from Father Tucker that I was favored by the people of Silverhelm, and Branford had certainly mentioned it many times before, I had never really encountered someone from outside the castle who made the sentiment so clear.  She told me her granddaughter, born the spring before, had even been named Alexandra in my honor.

Hadley was officially released from her service as Branford’s concubine, and not a day later, Sir Brigham asked Branford’s permission to court and eventually marry her.  Branford merely turned to me and left the decision in my hands.  Of course I agreed, and it was not long before their wedding day was upon us.

Though the air in the room was cool, I woke up to the warmth of blankets pulled up around my shoulders and Branford’s body wrapped partially around mine.  His hand was in my hair, stroking through it again and again, as he did most mornings.

“It is late,” I said as I looked at the light coming through the windows.  I half expected Branford to comment on how I had been sleeping later these past few days, but he did not make mention of it.

“A bit,” Branford said with a shrug.  His lips touched my temple as his arms held me tighter against his chest.  “You looked so peaceful; I could not bring myself to wake you.”

“It is a wonderful excuse for you to lie in as well,” I commented.  Branford’s body shook slightly with a quiet chuckle.

“Perhaps.”  He hugged me to him again.  “You know me too well.”

“We should still rise.  There is a lot to accomplish before evening.”

“Ida is here,” Branford said.  “I doubt there will be anything left to prepare.  I am quite sure she has everything organized for the feast already, and there are probably a dozen handmaids assisting Had—the bride.”

My husband’s obvious distaste for uttering the name or even being in the presence of his former concubine was troublesome.  Though he uttered no disapproval of the joining of Hadley to Sir Brigham, he completely avoided all talk of the wedding plans.  Even though he was always by my side, just as he swore he would be after Janet’s treachery was discovered, he avoided any contact with Hadley.  When I spoke with Hadley about her upcoming ceremony, Branford would stand to one side, barely offering her a nod in acknowledgement.

I understood why but had no idea what to do about it.  The few times I had attempted to even bring Hadley’s name up to Branford, he had been quick to distract me, either with talk of urgent matters or more likely with his deft hands and mouth against my skin.

As he had done the first year of our marriage, Branford spent much of his time devising ways of getting me to some quiet corner alone.  There he would attempt—and most likely succeed—to seduce me.  I often found myself having to change out of muddied clothing in the middle of the day.  Even more often, Sunniva would give me a sly smile as she pulled a wayward piece of straw from my hair.

I bit down on my lip as I forced any optimistic thoughts from my head.  I refused to wonder, speculate, or remotely consider the thought that I might be…

I couldn’t even bring myself to summon the word to my head even though I knew I felt off-kilter.

“I should still see if my assistance is needed,” I said, and Branford sighed before releasing his grip on me.   I dressed myself and warmed a cup of cider near the fire as Branford rinsed his hands and face in the basin.  Branford paused, sniffed at it, and gave me a lopsided grin before drinking it down.

Though he tried to make light of his revived paranoia, it was not always so amusing.  Branford had not gone as far as to ban tea outright; he never drank it again, nor did I.  It was not out of fear of the drink itself but more out of Branford’s reaction to it.

Branford slipped his fingers through mine and brought the back of my hand to his lips.

“I love you, my wife,” he said softly.

I felt heat warm my cheeks as I responded in kind.  With my arm linked through his, we left the royal chambers and made our way to the grand hall where Ida and Sunniva were instructing servants in the decorations for the feast after the ceremony.

“Just for a moment, Branford,” I said as I attempted to leave my husband’s side long enough to make sure Hadley needed no assistance from me.

“Not alone,” he said, and his hand gripped mine tighter.

“Branford…it’s only the next room.”

“Never again.”  Branford’s eyes darkened, and I recognized the set of his jaw that meant he would be difficult to dissuade.  Eventually he agreed to wait outside the door for me, but convincing him was not easy.  As I closed the door behind me, I realized it was the first time I had been out of Branford’s field of vision since the poisoned tea was discovered.

I checked on Hadley and hugged her briefly before I returned to Branford’s side, not wanting him to be too distressed.  He immediately took me into his arms and held me against his body for a moment before we took our places at the front of the chapel.

The ceremony was beautiful, and I could not help but compare it to my own as I listened to Father Tucker’s words and watched Sir Brigham lift the veil from Hadley’s face to kiss her lips softly.  I looked to Branford then, wondering if he was also thinking of our first kiss, but he was staring at the floor in front of his booted feet and not watching at all.

After the wedding, everyone moved to the great hall for the marriage feast.  Though Branford placed his hand on Brigham’s arm in brief congratulations, he said nothing at all to Hadley.  I gripped his arm, and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before he walked a few feet away to speak to Sunniva.

I took a deep breath and looked at Hadley, whose eyes were cast to the ground.  Sir Brigham was speaking with Dunstan and did not seem to notice.

“Pay him no mind,” I said softly to her.  “He just does not know what to say.”

“He hates me,” Hadley said quietly.  “He does not even look at me.”

“I do not think that is true,” I responded in the same soft tones.  “He blessed your marriage, did he not?”

Hadley nodded.

“Forgive me,” she said.  “I did not mean to sound ungrateful, I just…”

I reached out and touched her arm to silence her.

“Of course you did not,” I said.  “And you must not take to heart what Branford does.  If given the opportunity, he would probably question his own loyalties as well.”

Hadley covered her hand to muffle her chuckle.

“Alexandra,” Hadley said, and though her smile stayed on her face, her eyes dimmed, “I will miss you so.”

“Miss me?” I questioned.

Hadley’s smile faltered, and her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“When we leave,” she said.

“What are you saying?” I asked Hadley as she broke our gaze.

“I thought you would have known already,” she said softly.

I shook my head.

“King Branford is sending us to live in Seacrest,” she told me.  “With Sir Rylan coming here for the negotiations with Hadebrand, Brigham is going to be in charge of the men left behind to protect Seacrest.”

I scowled and looked to where Branford was dancing with his adoptive mother.  In my mind, I tried to determine exactly when he had made such plans since there had been so very few times when we were even out of earshot of one another.  My memories soon took me to an afternoon several days ago when Branford was practicing with his men in the field.  There were several new, young recruits—boys more than men—who had come from the outlying farms of Silverhelm.  Sir Rylan had been there, and I did recall Branford, Sir Brigham, and Sir Rylan all standing near each other and speaking in low voices as I watched and knitted from the edge of the field.

“He did not tell you,” Hadley surmised.

“No, he did not.”

“He does not want me here,” she said softly.

I could not argue the point for though I knew he appreciated her willingness to serve Silverhelm, she was the reminder of what he had done—what he had sacrificed.  Having the opportunity to send Sir Brigham, and therefore Hadley as well, out of the kingdom was probably quite a relief to Branford.

“He finds it difficult to be in your presence,” I finally admitted.

“And for you as well?” she asked.

I reached out and touched her white lace-clad arm.

“No, my dear friend,” I said.  “I am grateful to you.  At the time, we had no choice, and if it had to be someone, I am glad it was you.  What if it had come down to Whitney?  Or if another servant had been chosen—maybe even Janet?  I hate to think of what might have happened if someone else had been in your place.”

We hugged briefly, and my hands slid down her arms to grasp her fingers.

“And that opportunity has brought you to your Brigham,” I said with a smile.  “Wherever you are, you will be at his side.  He loves you so dearly.”

Hadley’s cheeks flushed, and she looked at her feet as she smiled.

“He has said it would be…different,” she said in hushed tones.  “Even Father Tucker said tonight would still be my first…in the eyes of God…well…you know.”

I smiled too, biting down on my lip at the same time.  I considered the irony.  I had been a virgin on my wedding night but stayed pure for some time afterwards.  Hadley, though not pure, would still experience her first pleasures with her husband on the night of her wedding.  She would have love from the beginning of her marriage while Branford and I had to find our way to those feelings.

After another embrace, I made my way around the dance floor to where I was supposed to sit at the feasting table.  The minstrels paused in their song, and I watched my husband’s easy smile as he took a step back from Sunniva.  It was good to see him smile as it brightened his face and brought back his youth.

I walked around the table and laid my cloak over the chair where I would sit next to Branford for the feast.  The air in the hall was quite warm on my skin, and the cloak was causing the heat to overwhelm me.  As I smoothed out the fabric, servants began to come from the kitchens to bring forth the food for the feast.

The smell of the roasted meats hit my nose and caused my belly to lurch as I was suddenly reminded of the smell of charred flesh in the practice field outside the castle walls.  The back of my throat burned with the taste of bile as I swallowed hard.  Reaching inside the sleeve of my dress, I fished out a small lace handkerchief and covered my mouth, concerned for a moment that my stomach was going to act against me.  I stilled for a moment, and the feeling passed, so I moved quickly away from the table, opting for drink instead of food.  I walked cautiously toward one of the barrels of mead, nodding to some of the other guests as I passed.

The smell of the strong ales and wines hit me nearly as hard as the scent of the food.  My stomach churned again, and the lace handkerchief in my hands blurred as I stared at it.

“Alexandra!”  I felt Branford’s hands around my middle as he pulled me backwards a few steps to sit upon a nearby chair, holding me sideways in his lap.  My head dropped to his shoulder as the room continued to spin.

“What is wrong with her?” Sunniva asked.  I felt her cool fingers on my cheek.

“I do not know,” Branford replied.  “Alexandra?  Can you speak?”

“Yes,” I mumbled into his shirt.

“What is wrong, my wife?”

“Dizzy,” I replied softly.

“I saw her just as she was beginning to fall,” Branford said.  “I barely caught her in time.”

“Alexandra?  Have you eaten since this morning?”

“I do not think so,” I whispered.  I could hear Sunniva’s questions, and I could answer her though my voice sounded strange in my own ears.

“Ida, fetch some water and fruit,” Sunniva said.

“Of course,” Ida said, and she scurried off toward the table.

“Branford,” Sunniva spoke softly, “do you know where Alexandra’s cloak is?”

“At the table, on her chair,” he replied.

“Fetch it for me, please.”

“I’m not leaving her!” Branford snapped.  “Send someone else.”

I heard Sunniva’s sigh and felt Branford’s arms tense around me.

“Get the cloak, Branford.”

Branford growled under his breath, and I did not have to open my eyes to know what expression went with his exacerbated sigh.  He stood and slowly turned to set me down in the chair before he brushed his lips over my forehead.

“I will return shortly,” he stated as he walked off.

“Alexandra,” Sunniva said as she reached out and took one of my hands in hers.  “How long have you felt like this?”

“Just a few minutes,” I answered.

Ida came back with a cup of water and a small bowl of apples and pears.  She held the cup to me as I took a drink, and then I bit into one of the pears.  I did begin to feel better almost immediately.

“What about yesterday?” Sunniva asked.  “Did you feel ill then?”

I narrowed my eyes in confusion.

“I did,” I admitted, “but only for a moment.”

“And did your stomach empty itself?”

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head.

“Did it feel as though it would?”

I bit into my lip for a moment before I nodded.

“But I did not get sick,” I said, emphasizing the words.

“Alexandra?” Ida asked softly.  She laid her hand on the top of my shoulder, and I turned my head to her.  There was a slight smile on her face.  “When were you last in the Women’s Room?”

I looked down to the ground because in the back of my head, I knew it had been longer than normal, but I had refused to speculate on the reason.  If I thought about it, and it ended up being not true…Well, I could not handle any additional disappointments when it came to that subject.

“It has been…a while,” I finally whispered back.

Branford gasped and then dropped to his knees in front of me.

“Alexandra?” he said softly, his bright green eyes staring into mine.

“It is too soon to say,” I replied, my voice still quiet.  I bit my lip as tears brimmed over my eyes and down my cheeks.

Branford’s eyes widened, and his gaze dropped to my stomach.

“You are,” he said quietly, and his voice was full of wonder.  When his gaze met mine again, his eyes sparkled like green emeralds with their intensity, and the smile that slowly spread across his face made them glow.  “You are carrying my son.”

And that is when I knew I was with child.