I thought I knew pain.

With my throat full of choking dust, I pushed myself from the ground.  The throbbing in the back of my head overshadowed any clear thought for several minutes while I tried to collect my wits about me.  Every muscle was tensed for the fight, and I was not sure if I was still under attack or not.  I flailed at nonexistent hands surrounding me, shaking my head and taking a step away from the bodies that were far too close for my liking.  They lay all over the ground, and I felt as though they were boxing me in and making it difficult to focus.

My head spun, and I stumbled.  When I reached to the back of my head, I winced, and my fingers became sticky from the blood in my hair as my mind flashed with recent memories.

I had impaled the large man with the dented breastplate, using my sword to strike up underneath his armor, and then I was hit from behind…

I stumbled again as dizziness and nausea swept over me, dropped to my knees, and was sick.  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, finding blood there to go with the stinging pain in my lips.  Once my stomach had purged itself, I could focus better.  I reached out to get the leverage to rise again, but my fingers hit something on the ground, and I forced myself to look at the face of the body beside me.

Michael.

My page lay on his side with his short sword only a few feet from his stiff, cold hand.  I swallowed past the lump in my throat and used both hands to bring myself back to my knees.  I lifted my head to see the carriage standing horseless in the middle of the road.

In a rush, it all came back to me, and I screamed.

“ALEXANDRA!”  I jumped to my feet as dizziness tried to overwhelm me again.  It nearly succeeded, but I managed to launch myself toward the carriage door and wrench it aside.

Empty.

“ALEXANDRA!” I yelled again, jerking my head from side to side as I ran around the carriage completely, calling out her name.  There was no sign of her.  I stood next to the opened carriage door, my hands balled into fists and my panting breaths escaping my mouth.  I forced myself up the step and inside, my eyes burning as I stared at the bench seat.  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep the images from the past out of my current conjecture, but it did not work.

I knew she would never have fit there, and it was ridiculous to look.  Some insane, irrational part of my brain wondered if she could have somehow given birth to our child during the battle and hidden him inside the bench.  I still had to look though I knew it was ridiculous.  The very idea of opening the bench made my stomach lurch and my heart pound in my temples.

I took a short step forward, my ears burning with the silence around me.  I could hear nothing but my own breath and the steps of my booted feet.   With my heart still pounding, I reached over and pushed the seat up quickly, revealing nothing in the storage area except blankets.

Nothing.

I dropped back to the dirt road and gazed over the broken bodies around me.  There were thirteen of my men, including the carriage driver, and an additional twenty-three bodies in unfamiliar garb and unmarked armor.  Not a single one lived, but the loss of their lives barely registered in my head.   There were so many, the bodies resembled the morning after a large battle.  The only thing missing was the serfs going through the men’s pockets, looking for anything they could sell.

Where is she?

For a long moment, my mind simply shut down, and I felt only confusion.  I took a few steps up the road to where the delicate gold crown lay in the dirt and bent to pick it up.  I turned it over and over again in my hands as I tried to understand.  It was supposed to be on Alexandra’s head.  She only took it off to sleep, of course, but otherwise she always, always wore her crown.  Why would it be here in the road?

Why?

Why?

Why?

My hands froze, and the circlet tumbled again to the ground.  I could feel my mouth drop open, but I could not make a sound or draw air into my body.

They took her.

Oh God, they took her.

I felt the sides of the old carriage bench close tightly against my shoulders as the lights in my head disappeared, and I was transported back to my childhood with the sound of my father’s name being screamed over and over again in my head.

Only this time, the voice was different.

It was not my mother screaming for my father but Alexandra’s voice as she cried out my name repeatedly.  As the sound echoed in my head, it became more and more distant.  A blunt sound escaped my throat, but I could not draw enough breath to scream again.  Had they hurt her?  Had they…had they…?

I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth.  If anyone touched her, he would die.  His families and friends and acquaintances would all die.  In fact, there would be nothing left of the entire realm if she was violated in such a way.  I could not even bring myself to think such a thing.  If what had happened to my mother happened to Alexandra…

And for the tiniest, briefest moment, I did not care.

I just wanted her here—with me—no matter what had happened.  I wanted her in my arms where I knew she was safe, and no one could touch her.  I wanted to run my hands through her hair and inhale her scent and tell her I was here, holding her and protecting her, but I could not.

She was gone.

My wife.

My life.

My child.

I screamed again, tearing the carriage door from its hinges and throwing it across the road.  It fell into the body of one of the guards—one of the men that failed to protect us.  With a sudden, terrified thought, I searched the bodies in the road for any sign of a woman, but there was none.  I cursed and kicked at the body closest to me—a man whose face I barely recognized.  He was just one of the dozen who was supposed to protect her.

No…I was supposed to do that.

“Alexandra!” I cried out, my voice now hoarse from shouting.  I spun around to look across the fields and toward the horizon in all directions, but there was nothing to be seen.  Instinctively, I looked to the ground and saw the tracks of many horses and at least one cart.  The tracks lead to the south, toward Wynton, Sterling, and…

Hadebrand.

She must have been taken there.

For a moment, I could breathe again—for if she had been taken, she was alive.

I blinked a few times, my thoughts turning inward as I realized that I knew she was alive.  If she were not, I would feel it in the very core of my being.  At the moment, it felt as though my insides were literally torn to shreds, but I could function.  I could think.  If she were gone, I would not be able to do anything.  The earth would simply cease to exist if she were no longer in it.

But why would she be taken?  As a bargaining tool?  As if I would give in to the demands of anyone who threatened my wife.

Oh, but you have…

“Not the same,” I whispered to myself, knowing the words that fell from my bleeding lips were lies.  I had given in to such demands again and again, and I felt my stomach roll in protest of the things I had done for the sake of Silverhelm and Alexandra’s protection.

It had all failed.

Everything I had done to try to guarantee the safety of my wife and my people had been nothing but a dismal, painful failure.  I had not only been unsuccessful but had also brought Alexandra more pain with my own, ignorant behavior than even my enemy had.  As if it were not bad enough what I did in order to create an heir, I had made her believe I did not care.

I knew now that it was exactly what Edgar had hoped to achieve.  Divide us from within.  Make us doubt our own loyalties.  And conquer without bloodshed.  I had simply walked right into his trap, and he had played me like a fool for his own, twisted amusement.

And she had forgiven me.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I could hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance, toward the north.  I did not bother looking in that direction, for I knew it had to be Parnell or at least someone sent by him.  We were undoubtedly late in our arrival now, and he would come looking for us.

We.

Us.

There was only me now, and the thought sent the chill of death down my spine.

I both heard and felt the horse as it moved up to stand beside me.  I also heard my name called though I did not take my eyes from the road and the fresh trails left by the wheels of a cart.  My head conjured images of Alexandra—bound and gagged as Kimberly had been before I had her slaughtered.  A sharp breath tightened my chest and shoulders as I thought of how frightened she must be.

“Branford!”  Parnell’s voice broke through my haze, and I swung my fist toward his face.

He had known me far too long and was prepared for my reaction.  He ducked quickly and spun in a circle behind me right before he placed both his hands on my shoulders though only lightly.

“It is only me, sire,” he told me.

“She is gone.”  I looked at him.

“I know, Branford.”

“How do you know?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter with a broken seal.

The seal of Hadebrand.

This is your only chance to save the life of your child.

Denounce the commoner and take Whitney’s hand.

It was unsigned, but with the seal, it did not have to be.  It was obvious who had orchestrated such a thing, and in my hand was the proof.

But I did not care about proof—I only wanted my wife and child safe.

“I was supposed to protect her.”

Parnell took the letter from me and told me of the messenger from Hadebrand who brought it to Sawyer only a few hours ago.  I looked up the road and saw the small army of Sawyer as they gathered on horseback with Rylan at their lead.

“Where is the messenger now?”

“Quite dead,” Parnell said.  “I did not see any reason to keep him alive—we have the seal as proof.”

I nodded and glanced back down the road.  My head swam, and I had to swallow back bile.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Parnell said.  “There were at least forty of them, based on the hoofprints.  Your guard did not stand a chance.”

“I doubled them.”

“That is still merely a dozen.”

“It was not enough,” I said as I shook my head and looked around at the dead men in the road.   I could only repeat my earlier words to Parnell.  “I was supposed to protect her.”

“There were too many, King Branford,” Rylan said as he shook his head.

“We must return you to Silverhelm,” Parnell said as his hand again rested atop my shoulder.

“No,” I said.  “We head south.”

I did not miss the look Sir Rylan shared with my cousin.

“Sire—” Parnell started, but I cut him off.

“They took her, Parnell.” The reminder was unnecessary.  “They took Alexandra.  I will not go home until I have brought her back.”

“Who took her?” Rylan said bluntly.

I glared at him.

“Who else would take her?” I asked as I grabbed the letter back from Parnell and shook it in his face.  “Are you stupid?”

“No, King Branford,” Rylan replied.  “Are you?”

He obviously anticipated my reaction, for he caught my fist in his hands as I swung at him.

“Hear me out!” he yelled, and he used his impressive strength to grip my arms.  Parnell drew his sword and tried to step between us, Rylan released his grip on me and took a step away.

“Have you a death wish?” Parnell yelled at him.

“Listen to me!” Rylan cried out.  He held out both of his hands to put distance between us as I growled under my breath at him but allowed him to speak.  “How is your ability to bring war to Hadebrand different now than it was yesterday?  If you go there now with the small rabble we have here, what have you done besides deliver yourself into his hands?”

He gestured with his meaty hand toward the forty men behind him.  His words sunk into me as I looked into his dark eyes, shielded with heavy brows.  He was right, and I knew he was, but how could I possibly do anything other than go after her?

“My wife…” I said, unable to finish the rest of the sentence as my gut roiled, and I had to swallow hard to stop myself from vomiting again.

“I know,” Rylan replied.  “You will go for her, but not now—not like this.”

Parnell gripped my forearm as he looked into my face.

“We must return to Silverhelm,” he said in a low voice.  “Your army is at the ready there.  I will send a messenger to Sawyer that all the horses ready for battle to be brought to Silverhelm.  There will be enough for your cavalry, and I swear to you they will be worthy steeds.”

“If you are going to bring her home, you must prepare first,” Rylan said.  “If you move against Edgar only to be killed in the first battle, how will you save your Alexandra?”

I felt my head nod up and down once, and I had to take a deep breath to try to calm my body.  Every ounce of my being wanted to draw my sword and simply follow the tracks myself, but both Rylan and Parnell were right—it would do Alexandra no good if I were to be killed now.

One of the men riding with Rylan and Parnell walked up and offered me the reins to his horse.  I nodded and was about to call for Michael when I realized he could no longer aid me.  I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed through my nose.

“Your crown, my king,” I heard the man who gave me his horse say.  I looked over to him, my vision still blurred, and finally had enough sense to reach out, take the circlet of gold from his fingers, and place it back on my head.

“Alexandra’s crown,” I mumbled under my breath and gestured toward the ground.  The man seemed to understand what I meant and went off looking around on the ground.  I knew it was somewhere in the road where I had dropped it, but I could not go and retrieve it myself.  If I did, I was quite sure I would not be able to keep myself together.

I tried to push these thoughts from my head as I mounted the horse given to me.  Alexandra’s crown was handed to me, and I held it as it dangled from my fingertips for a moment before looping it around the horn of the horse’s saddle.  I tried not to look upon it as I turned the horse around and looked down the road to the south.  Parnell decided to come with me and send Rylan north immediately to bring the horses from Sawyer to Silverhelm.  We moved quickly, and I forced myself to keep company with Parnell when the road split, and we headed west toward Castle Silverhelm.

As soon as we returned to the castle and my wounds were tended to, the court was assembled, and we headed immediately to the grand hall and throne room where I found I was completely unable to speak of what had happened.  I slowly lowered myself into the throne at the front of the court where nobles and advisors had already gathered, prostrating themselves before me.  I tried to keep my focus on them and ignore the empty seat beside my own.

Parnell obviously noticed my distress though the others did not.  He stepped up and placed himself between me and the court as he told them what had happened.  Sunniva and Ida held and comforted each other as the royal court expressed its shock and disbelief that Edgar would be so bold.

“The other royal families will side with us now.”  Abraham, who had been the captain of my father’s army when my grandfather was on the throne, nodded his white, wrinkled head.

“That will take time,” Peter said.  “We should send messengers immediately.  Within a day or two, we should have answers from Cresthall, and—”

“We cannot wait that long,” I said.  “We must march on Hadebrand immediately.”

“Is that wise, King Branford?” Parnell asked.  “I understand your sense of urgency, but we are not prepared—”

“I will not have her in his hands!” I yelled back.

“Sire, we cannot just up and go to war!” Peter suddenly shouted.  “Our troops have not magically grown in number and strength!  Have you forgotten how devastated we were the last—”

“He has my wife!” I screamed as I stood and drew my sword.  Without thinking, I moved the few steps between the throne and my advisor, grabbing the man by his neck.  “I will stop at nothing, nothing to bring her home!  War is just the first and most logical step!  If I thought delivering your head to Edgar would return her to me, I would not hesitate!  Are we absolutely clear on this matter, Peter?  Or would you like to join Kimberly at the gate?”

I watched his throat bob up and down as he swallowed before he tried to speak again.

“We are clear, my king,” he finally said.

I turned my back to the man and stared at Sir Rylan.

“Do I have Seacrest’s support in this?” I asked as I endeavored to sound calm and firm.  Inside, I was nothing of the sort.  I needed Rylan’s men.  We would not survive this otherwise.

Alexandra would not survive.

Our child...my son…

“Rylan?” I said.  My voice was earnest as I tried to keep the images of her being harmed out of my brain.

“King Branford,” he said with a slight shake of his head.  The large man reached a hand up to the back of his neck and scratched.  “You know I support you myself, but I cannot speak for all of Seacrest.  I will need to return home or send a messenger—”

“There is no time!”  I tried to keep my voice in check—tried not to start screaming and ranting and raving at the man whose help I so desperately needed.  “I have to strike now.  Alexandra…they…they have her.”

Rylan scowled off to the side and appeared particularly interested in a spot on the floor.  He stared at it for several minutes, his body still and his expression one of intense thought.  His wide shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath before he turned back to me.

“I will fight by your side,” Rylan said quietly, “but I cannot send my troops into your war without receiving my king’s blessing.  They will stay here and guard Silverhelm, though, so you may spare more of your own men to move against Hadebrand.”

“It is all you can offer?” I replied with my jaw tense.  I knew it was all he could do in his position, but I also knew it was not enough.  Without his numbers behind me, we would fall at the walls of Hadebrand with Alexandra still inside.

He nodded.

“I will send a messenger immediately,” Sir Rylan said.  “I should have an answer within three days.”

“She could be dead by then,” I said.  My stomach tightened up on me again, and I was about to ask him what he would do if it were his own wife when Peter spoke up.

“She could be dead now”—Peter snorted through his nose—“and you will risk all of Silverhelm—”

His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened as they looked into mine.  I did not drop my gaze from his as I pulled my blade out of his gut and watched him drop to his knees before me.  His mouth opened and closed several times without a sound before he slowly toppled to one side.

“Edgar has my wife,” I said softly.  I gripped the hilt of my sword and did not bother to sheath it though blood dripped steadily to the floor.  I turned toward the rest of the court, my gaze scanning each of their faces as I silently dared them to argue with me.  No one spoke a word or even managed to look me straight in the face.

“We march on Hadebrand now,” I said.

I felt soft fingers against my arm.

“Sunniva.”  Her name left my tongue in a soft breath.

“Edgar’s numbers are greater,” she said quietly.

“There is nothing more I can do,” I replied with a quick glance to Rylan.  He did not return my look.

“If you wait—” she started to say.

“We march on the morrow,” I said with conviction.  “I will not wait another moment.”

“You will lead us to slaughter,” Parnell said under his breath.

I took a step closer to him, my hand still holding my bloodied sword.

“I will die for my queen,” I said smoothly.  “Will you?”

Parnell’s eyes stared into mine for only a moment before he gave me a slight nod.

“Of course, my king,” he said.  “It would be my honor.”

His eyes refused to look to the weapon in my hand as he took a step closer to lean into me.

“Branford,” Parnell spoke softly as he placed his hand on my shoulder.  “We do not even know if she…if they still…”

From the toes in my boots all the way to the top of my head, my body tightened again.  The muscles throughout my limbs flexed and burned, and my teeth clenched.  There was burning behind my eyes, but I would not let that show.  I tried to remember Parnell was not only of my own family but also a captain in my army, and I could not afford to lose him.  However, I could not stop myself completely as I lashed out.  A moment later, Parnell was caught with my arm across his chest and his body pressed up against the wall.

“She is alive,” I snarled.  “Never, ever think otherwise.”

Parnell nodded, and I released him slowly.

We talked and planned and strategized for what felt like hours.  I wanted to move as quickly as possible, even during the night and despite what Sunniva believed.  Rylan talked me out of it when he told me to think of the men in my army and how much better they would be able to fight for my wife if they were well rested and fed first.  As the court moved out of the grand hall and headed toward their own sleeping areas, I found myself in the chapel, staring up at the altar and trying to clear my mind of the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me.

Where was she right now?  What were they doing to her?

“I am coming for you, Alexandra,” I said into the air.  “Do not be afraid.  I will come for you.”

I closed my eyes briefly and imagined myself once again in the tight container of the hidden compartment under the carriage bench.  I heard the screams from outside.  Only this time, it was Alexandra’s voice, and she called for me, but I could not reach her.

“Please, please—keep her safe,” I whispered as I dropped to my knees.  Memories overwhelmed me again, and I felt Lord Sawyer’s arm around my shoulders as I was brought from the carriage.  I saw the bodies of my parents on the ground, covered in blankets.  At the point where I usually imagined what my mother’s body must have looked like under there, I now thought of my wife, and a choking sob emerged from my throat.

“God…no…please…”

What if they were hurting her right now as I knelt here and did nothing?

What if?

What if?

What if?

The words echoed in my mind as the palms of my hands tried to push the imagined sights from my eyes.  I screamed into my fists, trying to muffle the sounds as my mind conjured all the possible things that could be happening to her at this very moment.

“Branford!  Branford, no!”

I felt the delicate hands of my adoptive mother around my shoulders and inhaled the scent of her hair as she turned me and pulled me toward her and back to sanity.  I tried to turn away, but the weakness of my mind had affected my body, too.

“They could be hurting her…killing her!” I cried.  “Right now, they could be…”

“Hush,” Sunniva said as she attempted to pull me closer.  “This will not help you or Alexandra.”

“But she could be hurt!”

“I know,” Sunniva said quietly.  She placed her hand on the back of my head and attempted to pull me to her shoulder.  I resisted at first but then dropped my forehead against her.

“Think, my son,” she whispered quietly.  “I know you wish to find her now, and I know you fear for her, but your men need sleep, and you need additional time to perfect your strategy.  You will go to Alexandra in the morning.”

“I cannot wait,” I said, my voice strained.

“I know it feels that way,” she said, “but Alexandra is strong and brave.  You must not go into a slaughter, my son.  You can only save her if you are ready.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I pleaded with her.

“You will gather and lead your men,” Sunniva said softly.  “You will remain calm, and you will encourage your army, Branford.  It is the only way you can beat Hadebrand.”

“How will I, Mother?” I whispered into her hair as I finally relinquished whatever pride I was trying to maintain and just sank against her and sobbed.  “How can I go on without her beside me?  I cannot…I cannot even think!”

“You must,” she said quietly to me.  “Alexandra is out there, and she needs you.  You must keep your wits about you if you are to save her and my grandchild.”

My son.

I knew she was correct, but to be here, preparing to search for her instead of being out there, at least doing something more substantial than just…waiting was nothing less than agonizing.  I would have preferred in my heart to wander the woods turning over rocks as I searched for signs of her rather than prepare myself to journey forth on the morrow after a good night’s sleep.

As if my eyes would be able to close.

Knowing there was no other way and that my men would still need their sleep if they were to go into battle tomorrow, I nodded and slowly made my way back to my own rooms.

My own, empty rooms.

I tried not to look at the wardrobe full of her gowns, the chair she favored by the fire, or the intricately carved bowl on the table next to our bed.  It did not matter where my gaze fell.  Signs of her were everywhere.  Without bothering to remove my clothing, I lay down on the cold bed, hating the idea that I was even here without her.  I knew sleep would not come.

Instead of sleeping, I stared without really seeing anything through the curtains at the wall across from the bed.  My thoughts turned inward as visions of Alexandra lying next to me drifted through my head, her fingers reaching up to gently scratch the side of my face as she offered to shave me in the morning.

I likely dozed for no more than a few minutes, and my dreams—memories really—were all of her.

I lay on my side, sated from taking my wife and pleased with myself to see her face still flushed with her recent excitement.  As we both calmed, I could not help but run my hand over the small mound protruding from her stomach.  With the arm I had around her shoulders, I held her body tightly to me as I caressed the place where my child grew.

“What shall we name the child?” Alexandra asked quietly.  She positioned her hand over mine.

“Branford,” I said without thinking.  My eyes moved to hers, and I smiled a half smile. “Is it not obvious?”

Alexandra bit into her lower lip to stifle her laugh.  She knew me and my pride all too well.

“And if we have a daughter?” she asked with her eyebrows raised.

I knew when she did that, she was—at least in a way—either challenging me or even jesting with me.  There had been others who had paid for such insolence, but with Alexandra, everything was different, and I felt no ire toward her for the expression.

“When we do have a daughter,” I told my wife, “you may name her.  This one, however”—I stretched my fingers over her belly—“is a son.”

I could not say exactly how I knew Alexandra carried my son—Branford the Third.  I just felt it in my being, somewhere deep inside of me.  I was sure the child was a boy and my heir.

“Could we name her…?” Alexandra paused for a moment, casting her eyes downward as she took a breath.  “Could we name her Everleigh?”

Her gaze moved back to mine, and for a moment, I could not speak.  I would have expected Alexandra to choose a name from her own family, not to choose the name of my mother.  I rarely spoke it and was a little surprised she remembered though I considered she had likely heard the name more often from Ida or Sunniva.

“You would want that?” I asked.  I knew well the propensity of my wife to do things in the manner she believed I favored.  “You would really wish to use my mother’s name, not your own mother’s?”

“I do not remember my mother,” she said.  She tucked her forehead against my shoulder, which she often did when she felt anxious or nervous about what she was going to say.  “You loved yours so, and I do love the name Everleigh.”

I touched her chin with my finger and tilted her face to look at me.  The beauty of her deep, brown eyes captivated me as it often did.  They were the eyes that held the soul of the most important creature in my world, and I had learned to read them so well these past few months.  They told me when she was happy, sad, or simply trying to appease me.

There was no doubt in them now.

“Everleigh she will be, then,” I replied softly.  I kissed the smile that graced her face and lit up those beautiful eyes, and Alexandra’s hand grasped mine before she held it against her abdomen.

“Can you feel that?” she asked.

For nearly a week, Alexandra had felt our son turn inside of her, but I never seemed to have my hand in the right place at the right time.  She pressed my hand further against her belly.  Just then, right underneath the palm of my hand, I felt the smallest of bumps.  The slight movement underneath her skin poked me for a moment before retreating again.

“I felt him!” I whispered in awe as her smile made my heart pound faster.  “I felt him inside of you…”

With a gasp, my eyes opened and I was alone in the bed.  I felt a nudge against my hand and looked down to see Amarra’s nose nudging me.  I reached out and touched her head before I rolled over onto my back.  My stomach clenched so hard, I nearly sat up straight as images of Alexandra streamed continuously through my head.

The look in her eyes as I first reached for her hand and pulled her to my horse.

The soft brush against her lips as we were pronounced man and wife.

That place on her neck I loved to kiss when I brought her pleasure.

The way her brow would knit when she worked on her embroidery.

The ire in her eyes when she realized I was teasing her.

The feel of her stomach as it grew with our child.

She was gone.

Now I genuinely knew pain.

*****

Though I tried, knowing how much I would need my strength the next day, I could not sleep.  Not in that room, in that bed, without her beside me.  If I did not get to her in time, I would never sleep peacefully again.

I rose from the mattress before the sun bothered to wake, dressed myself quickly, and made my way down to the kitchens.  There were fresh biscuits, and I tried to force one of them down my dry, unyielding throat.  I swallowed a cupful of water and headed immediately out to the stables as my mind contemplated the lost life of my young page for the first time since I had seen his body in the road.

Michael had served me well though I did not always treat him as the trusted servant he was.  I hoped Parnell or someone had made sure he and the other guards were brought back to Silverhelm for a proper burial.  I simply could not think about anything but my single goal at this time.

Alexandra.

“I am coming,” I whispered into the morning breeze.

“King Branford?” a timid voice called out.

I turned to see a young, black-haired boy of twelve years or so.  I scowled at him, trying to remember the lad’s name, for I knew I had seen him before.

“Sir Parnell sent me to assist you,” the boy said, “if you will permit it.  I’ve already polished your armor, and I know how to prepare your steed—I have tended Sawyer’s horses many times.”

I took a deep breath as I recalled exactly where I had seen him before—he had been Parnell’s stable hand when he was a child.

“Erik, is that your name?”

“Yes, my king!” he said with a smile.

“Prepare my horse,” I said with a sigh.  Romero snorted and shook his head as the boy with the unfamiliar face walked over to him.  I could hear the lad speaking softly as he reached into his pocket to offer the horse a treat.  Easily won over by such bribes, Romero allowed the boy to ready him for battle as I pulled out my recently shined armor and laid it out on a bale of straw.

Once he was done with Romero, Erik offered to assist me with my armor and then with mounting the horse.  Stable hand or not, Parnell had obviously been training him as a proper page as well.  He had us ready just as the sun crested over the horizon.

Erik followed me out of the stable and into the middle of the practice field where my soldiers had gathered.  Rylan was there with them, and I did not miss that six of his best fighters were also on horseback and ready to ride to Hadebrand.

My heart pounded as I looked over my men, and I wished I had some words of encouragement for them.  With Rylan’s six and the army of Sawyer, we had maybe two hundred in our ranks—only half of the force Edgar had amassed in the previous battles.  They were marginally trained, young, and would be horribly outnumbered.

If they would just provide enough of a distraction, I could possibly infiltrate the walls and find her.  It would be the only true chance we had.  If that did not work, and I discovered they had…they had killed her…I would simply die with my men.  It would be quicker than the slow death I would face without her.

I turned Romero without a word and began to lead the troops toward the road, bringing the horse to a slow trot.  Once we hit the open road, we would ride hard until we reached the castle walls of Hadebrand.  I guided the reins to the side and rounded the corner outside the gate.  There we brought our horses to an abrupt stop and gaped at the vision outside Silverhelm castle.

All around us were men.

There must have been at least three hundred of them.

They were of varying ages—some men well past their prime with graying hair and slowly moving gaits.  Others were quite young, not much older than Erik.  They all stood in lines together, looking up toward the castle as the army of Silverhelm came upon them.

They did not dress in armor and only a few rode on horses, but every one of them held in his hand a weapon of some sort.  Some held crooked old swords or simple clubs fashioned from a tree branch.  Many had knives in their hands, pitchforks, and several were holding either scythes or sickles.

I felt my heart tighten in my breast as one of them stepped forward.  There had been times before when some of the farmers would band together to bring forth their complaints and concerns—the kingdom was demanding too much of their grain or the forge was polluting the water they needed to drink and cook.  Normally I would have listened to their troubles, for they truly did not complain unduly, but I had no time for grievances now.  I gripped Romero’s reins and set my jaw as one of the men left the line and moved closer.

“Greetings, sire!” the man called out.  “My name is Samuel, and I farm the fields between the eastern forest and the border of Wynton with my sons.”

He gestured to two lads in their early teens standing behind him.

I nodded curtly and pointed to the rabble behind him.

“What is this?” I asked, my shoulders still tense.  I could not handle an uprising at this point, and if I needed to make an example to the others with this man’s life, then I would not hesitate to do so.

Alexandra’s face flashed in my mind, and I knew she would not have approved of such action.

“Reinforcements, my king!” Samuel said as he took another step forward.  He made his way over until he stood at Romero’s flank and looked up at me, his arm held out.  “She is our queen, too.”

And that is when I knew we had a chance.