The look in Branford’s eyes hardened, and I knew in my heart it was only to hide his own terror.  His hands clenched into fists for a moment before he placed one on the hilt of his sword and the other on the handle of the door.

“Do not leave this carriage.”

I could only nod, understanding immediately that there was to be no arguing with Branford on this matter.  I could see him glancing at the bench underneath where we sat, and the thoughts that plagued his mind were evident to me.  I yearned to reach out and offer him comfort, but there was no time.  I would have even tried to stuff myself inside the bench if it would have lessened his worry, but there was no possible way for an adult to fit inside, let alone one who carried a child inside of her.

His gaze met mine once more, and he seemed to want to say something else but turned away from me instead.  Branford exited the carriage, and I did not miss that he drew his sword as the door closed behind him, shielding my view.  I shifted myself close to the door. I could still hear though the sounds were somewhat muffled.

“They have no markings,” one of the guards said.

“Mercenaries,” replied another voice.  “Many of them.”

“Turn!” I heard Branford order. “We must head back!”

“It is too late, sire!”

“Draw your weapons!”

Within seconds, I heard the first clash of steel-on-steel.  I covered my mouth with my hands though I was sure any scream I uttered would not have been heard over the noise right outside the carriage door.  At first I moved to the far side of the carriage and away from the door, but then I moved closer as I tried to make sense out of the yelling and noise I could hear outside.  It did not work—there were too many voices yelling, combined with the sound of panicked horses and swords.  My teeth were practically puncturing my lip, and I did not know what I should do.

Unfortunately, my next steps were not of my own choosing.

The sounds diminished slightly, and muffled cries and moaning could be heard.  More voices, and then the carriage door was wrenched open.  I let out an instinctive cry as I quickly moved myself to the back of the carriage.  A dark-haired man with a full beard eyed me before stepping up into the carriage and grabbing me roughly by the arm.

“She is here!” he cried out over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” I cried out as I tried to dig my fingernails into his arm though it seemed to have no effect on him.  I felt my chest tighten in fear though I tried not to show it.  “Release me immediately!  Branford!”

The dark haired man’s low chuckle silenced me and sent chills up and down my arms as he hauled me to the carriage door and out into the sunlight.

“You will not find him much use to you now,” he said with a sneer.

The brightness of the sun made it difficult to see at first, but as my eyes became used to the light, I could see bodies lying around both the carriage and the ground further up the road.  The body of our carriage driver in his dark jacket was near where the horses should have been, but they were no longer attached to their harnesses.  Two men lying on their backs with eyes staring blankly to the sun were guards I recognized while others were unknown to me.  Not far from the carriage, there was one large and burly man in heavy chainmail with a mace still grasped in his hand.

It was seeing the figure lying next to him that made me feel as if rough fingers were gripping my throat and squeezing the breath from me.

No…

When I looked at the figure on the ground, my chest tightened, and I could not draw breath to utter a sound.  My body felt as though it wanted to simply drop to the ground and curl up, but my legs would not cooperate enough to let me fall.  I could see part of the dark leather that covered his shoulders, the thick steel blade still grasped in his fingers, and the reddish-bronze hair drenched in sweat as it splayed out over his neck.  He was face down in the dirt, and he did not move.

There was blood—I could not tell how much—but there was blood on his head.

I felt my mouth drop open as if to scream, but nothing came out.  I stood paralyzed, staring at my husband on the ground and trying to comprehend what was happening.  Perhaps he was only feigning, and the blood was not even his own.

I felt hands on my arms, which brought me from my haze.

“Branford!” I cried out, but there was no response.

The man who had pulled me from the carriage was still at my back, yelling at me to be quiet, and another man joined him to gather my arms behind my back and then drag me backwards—away from my husband.

 “No!  Oh, please, God!  No!  Branford!”

I continued to scream his name and struggle against the arms that held me, but I could not break free.  Two other men stepped forward, and their glaring eyes were full of determination when they grabbed my legs and lifted me from the ground.  I wanted to keep struggling, but I was afraid of harming the child if I fell.

One man held my arms while two others each held one of my legs.  I was carried in this way for many yards until I was dropped to my feet near a group of men on horseback.  I recognized none of them, and there was nothing on their armor to tell from which kingdom they may have hailed.  As I was manhandled and pushed toward a cart, many of the men turned their horses and began to head down the road toward the south, in the direction of Silverhelm castle.

And Hadebrand, I thought to myself.

There were still many around me—two holding my arms at my sides and two leading us through the men and horses still on the road.  The babe inside of me chose that moment to roll and kick, leaving me quite aware of what my body protected.  I clenched my muscles and felt hot tears run down my face.  What could I possibly do?  I would not have a chance against a single one of them, let alone four.  There was only one other option—beg for mercy.

“Please…do not hurt me…my child…”

The pleas were met with a swift slap to my face.

“Silence!” one of the men roared at me, and a moment later a bag was pulled over my head, and I could no longer see.  I was lifted and dropped again—this time in what felt like a pile of straw.  I realized I must have been placed inside the cart, much like the way Lady Kimberly had been delivered to us by Sir Rylan.

The thought threw me into a panic.

I screamed and screamed and screamed until the cover over my face was lifted just long enough to shove a dirty cloth into my mouth.

I fought against the hands that surrounded me, but there were just too many.

I could not think straight.

My baby…my baby…

Branford…oh God…Branford!

Was he all right?  Had they killed him?  Would they kill me and the child inside of me?

I was rolled to my side and my hands were bound behind my back.  My ankles were similarly tied, and a moment later I felt the lurch of the cart as it began to move.

For what seemed like hours and hours, I bumped along in the back of the cart.  My nose itched from the smell of old straw and burlap, and my arms ached—not just because of the way they were tied behind my back—but because I desperately wanted to wrap them around the child in my belly.

Branford’s child.

I no longer tried to quell the tears from running down my face as I thought of him lying on the ground, motionless and silent.  I openly sobbed as I tried to twist and turn my wrists to loosen the bonds, but to no avail.  I could hear the stomping of the horses’ hooves and the voices of their riders, but I could not make out what was said.

As much as I did not wish to think of it, my mind could not help but consider that Branford could be gone.  My heart seemed to halt in my breast as hot tears covered my cheeks.  Another sob choked my throat as I thought of him never seeing his child, and screams of near hysteria made my throat raw when I thought I may never lie next to him again and feel his protective arms encircle me in the night.

As much as I may have preferred it, I did not manage to fall into unconsciousness as we traveled, so I was immediately aware when the cart slowed its pace.  I could hear muffled voices and the rumble of the cart’s wheels as it began to travel over stone.  The sounds of more people surrounded us, and I heard louder voices and cheers.

“So much for the commoner queen!” one voice yelled out.

“How dare she think she could carry a king’s heir?” asked another.

“She will know her place now,” said a third.

The cart stopped, and I felt the ties around my ankles released.  I was lifted out and pushed forward, knocking me to my knees.  I struggled as someone grabbed my arms to right me, but then a sharp blow to the back of my head stunned me.  I cringed, not just from the pain, but from realizing the same person could have chosen to hit me in the stomach instead.

Without additional fight, my bound arms were wrenched painfully behind my back, and I was shoved forward again.  My feet stayed underneath me this time, and I managed to keep pace with my abductors until we came to an abrupt halt, and the sack over my head was removed.

As my eyes adjusted and my vision focused, I looked into the eyes of Princess Whitney of Hadebrand.  She sat in a regal chair with her hands folded in front of her and a look in her eyes that was filled with both hatred and glee at the same time.  She leaned forward and bared her teeth.

“Did you think you could really get away with this?” the princess said with a snarl.  “Branford was meant to be mine—always!  Since we were babes, everyone knew our marriage would unite Hadebrand and Silverhelm!”

Before I could respond, a man stepped out of the shadows behind her, his long dark hair and beard hiding most of his face from view.  I could see little but his dark, expressive eyes and heavy brows.  He moved to my side and his lip turned up in a cruel snarl.  I could see the remnants of an old scar across his eye, and I cringed even before I saw what was in his hand.  He held up a knife in front of my face, and Whitney laughed as he brought it down and cut through the ropes around my wrists.

“Branford will be mine just as soon as you deliver that child to me.  Then Branford will see reason and make me his queen.”

She spoke of a future with Branford, I realized, and it seemed my heart began to beat in my chest again.  If she speaks of him in the future tense, he must still live.  I closed my eyes in a silent, thankful prayer before I turned back to the hateful woman before me.

“You cannot believe you will get away with this,” I said.  “When Branford realizes what you have done, he will—”

“He will,” Whitney said, “do what he should have done from the beginning!  If he does not, I will kill that half-bred commoner child in your belly right before his eyes!  And you will learn your place in life before this is over!  Commoners are commoners, and royalty is royalty!  You do not belong with us, you insolent creature!  You will eventually understand this though it will be far too late to benefit you.”

There was snickering from the guards behind me as well as shuffling of their booted feet.  Moving a few inches closer to my side, the dark, bearded man continued to look me over with narrowed eyes.

“Greysen!” Whitney yelped, and the large, barrel-chested man turned his gaze to her.  “Take her down to the cells and introduce her to her new home.”

Whitney stood and walked over to me.  She was several inches taller and leaned over to stare down into my eyes.  I squared my shoulders and met her hateful look with my own glare.

“It will be your last home, you know,” she said before she began to laugh.  She took a step back and smiled gleefully up at Greysen.  “She is your responsibility now.”

“Of course, Princess Whitney,” he replied.

“Make sure she does not harm herself,” Whitney said.  “Keep her healthy so she delivers the child soon.”

“Of course, Princess Whitney,” he replied again with a bow of his head.

“As soon as we have the child, she is no longer of any use to us,” Whitney said simply as she waved her hand toward me dismissively.  She even shrugged her shoulders a little.  “Branford will do anything to make sure nothing happens to the baby, including taking me as his wife since she will no longer be in the way.”

My mouth dropped open as I finally understood her plan.  With the failure of her original scheme to keep Branford childless, she now planned to steal the child as it was born from my body.  She would then present it to Branford under the condition that he would take her as his queen.  How she believed such an insane idea would succeed was beyond my thinking.

“You are mad,” I whispered.  “Branford would never—”

My words were cut off by the sting on my cheek as Whitney pulled her arm back and slapped me.

“Branford will be mine,” she shouted, “and I will be Queen of Silverhelm as it was meant to be.  The only difference now is finding some other common trash to be my slave!”

My eyes widened, and Whitney smirked at me again as she watched me become aware of the meaning of her words.  She had no intention of just taking the child and letting me be.  No, that would be against her very nature.

She was going to kill me as soon as the baby was born.

Greysen stepped up until he was right against my side and grasped me by the arm.

“I will be heading back to Hadebrand,” Whitney said to Greysen.  She gathered her skirts around her waist and began to head down the hallway to a large set of doors.  “I will return when the child is born.”

“You cannot do this!” I screamed as I finally found my voice.  “Branford will never wed you!  Never!”

“Silence!” Greysen screamed down at me.  He leaned close to my face, and I could hear Whitney’s taunts from behind him as he started to lead me to a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

“Feel free to use her!” she called out with a laugh.  “If you do your job well, you can all have her for a short while after the child is born!”

Greysen tightened his grip on my arm, and two other guards followed as he dragged me down a dark, stone staircase.  It was dank, and the scent of mold and mustiness burned at my nose as I was shoved further down the stairs.  My legs and arms ached, but I forced myself to remain upright so I could wrap my free arm around my belly.

The stairway opened up into a long hallway with many doors on either side.  I knew by the small, barred windows in each door that we had entered the dungeons of some castle though I knew not where.  If Whitney was about to return to Hadebrand, that was obviously not where I was though it had been my original assumption.

Near the middle of the hallway, Greysen stopped and pulled open one of the doors.  Without any preamble, he shoved me inside.  There was little there.  A bare dirt floor, a pile of old straw, a rusted chamber pot, and some shackles against the wall made up the entire small, windowless room.

As soon as I looked inside, I knew I was going to die here.

I was very much aware of the large man behind me as he forcefully ushered me inside.  The other two guards who had followed us down into the recesses of this castle were close behind him.  As I looked back over my shoulder, I was reminded of how I had found Janet in the horse stall.  Even though I now knew that exact image was a false one, it did not stop dread from freezing my body.  The guard in the back looked down at me with a lustful glare as he smirked and poked at his companion.

“Shall we have a little fun before we go?”

The second guard laughed and rubbed his hands together.

“What, with this thing?” Greysen sneered as he shook me a little.  “All bloated and ugly?  I would sooner pass my time with a pig!”

They all laughed, and he shoved me by my shoulder further back into the cell though he still held my arm so I only barely stumbled. He brought his hand up and pushed at the center of my chest, which caused me to misstep.  Strangely though, he did not let me fall as I thought he would have but quickly leaned forward with his hand at the small of my back, depositing me on the straw in the corner.

“I do not care if they do call her ‘Queen’ in Silverhelm,” he said.  “I am young, strong, and desired by true nobles.  I would not waste my time on this disgusting commoner in the morning or the night!”

The other two laughed at his joke.  Despite his insults, I could only feel relief.

“I would not have my sword caught sticking into so unworthy a wench as this one!” he exclaimed.

The guards murmured in apparent agreement and began to make talk of other places where they could find prettier women.  Greysen nodded and then glanced back at the guards for a moment before leaning down and glaring into my eyes.

He hit me then, and his arm moved so quickly the blow should have been quite forceful, but he slowed his hand at the last second, barely connecting with my face.  As he pulled back at the last second, his body shielded his hand from his comrades, and merely pushed me lightly into the straw.

“I would not want her even if I was alone and in the twilight of my years.”

Just as the word fell from the burly man’s lips, his eyes flickered only slightly—softening in the dim torchlight the tiniest amount as he looked down at me.  My mouth dropped open, and at first my mind could not form any thoughts at all.  Slowly, comprehension of his actions and his words filtered through the shock I felt.

And that is when I knew, even in this dark place, I had an ally.