I shuddered when I thought of what she must have endured the two years she had been with that awful man. Even compared to me, she was quite young and conducted herself more as a child than as a woman. She was still gracious and helpful in all things and had even begun to help care for Samantha—the widow of the brave carriage driver who had saved me. Samantha was a small, frail woman with silver hair and hands that shook when she worked for too long. As Branford had promised, Samantha had her own area in the servants’ rooms. Though she could do little work, she was still paid a full servant’s wage for the few hours she was able to help prepare food for the kitchens.
As I learned about the different nobles in the Kingdom of Silverhelm and their relationships with each other, the days continued to pass. As I began reading small parts of scripture that were not too difficult, the days passed. As I sewed, walked through the marketplace, or helped Sunniva tend the gardens, the days passed.
I held it in. I did not let the people see the state I felt inside.
At night I began to pray for my husband.
*****
Sunniva convinced me to stay in the Women’s Room during my bleeding just to keep with the tradition though I was not required to do so with Branford away. The days there passed even more slowly as I hid my disappointment, for I would have been quite grateful to discover that Branford’s child grew inside of me. I had thought of what it would have been like to be able to tell him of an expected child when he returned, but it was not to be. I thought of all the times Branford had not returned to our bed at night when he had been consumed with the impending battles. If he had been with me, perhaps a child would have started to grow.
The day after I returned to my own rooms, Janet was there, filling the bath with hot water from the kettle. I finally allowed her to coax me into the tub. Janet poured water over my head as I sat in the person-sized bathtub in the bedroom. I had never even taken such a bath, but apparently, Sunniva advised it. I assumed her words to be more of an order than a suggestion.
I leaned back and tried to relax in the warm water as Janet washed my hair. I had not yet before this evening even thought of using the person-sized leather tub for bathing while Branford was away, and I had to admit it definitely had its advantages. It was obviously made with Branford in mind, and there was plenty of room for me to stretch out my legs and just let the warm water flow over me. I breathed in the deep, lavender scent from the herbs Janet had added to the water and tried not to think.
It was difficult.
It had been so long since Branford and his army had left for Hadebrand. There had been a messenger who brought news to Camden of the war’s progress nearly every day, though I was not privy to all the information. Camden would hear the messenger’s report first and would then speak with Sunniva, Ida, and me. I was quite sure we did not hear everything he did, but what we did hear was bad enough.
Hadebrand’s army outnumbered Branford’s two to one, and even though Branford’s men were skilled, many had been lost in the three battles that had commenced since the beginning. At the time of the last report, both Parnell and Branford were without great injury.
Janet poured more water over my head, and I closed my eyes. The warm water felt good, but all I could really think about was how I now wanted to have Branford back so I could bathe him here. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathed deeply, and tried to pull myself together. Janet finished rinsing me and then helped me out of the bath. She brought forth a soft cloth to dry me and then helped me into my dressing gown. I dismissed her soon after, preferring my solitude.
I rubbed the top of Amarra’s head as I stared at the fire, passing what I hoped would be enough time to allow me to sleep. When I felt so exhausted I could barely see the embers, I finally moved myself to the bed.
The evening was stiflingly hot, and there was little breeze from the window. I wrapped my hair up around my hand and lay it out against the pillow to try to cool myself off. It did not truly help or at least not significantly. I pushed the sheets away and rolled over, closing my eyes tightly until sleep finally came, however briefly.
I woke abruptly.
The fire had gone out, but the heat of the summer night was still nearly choking me. The warmth would have made it difficult to sleep under the best of conditions, and in my mental state, I had only dozed off and on through the first part of the night. I could hear Amarra getting off of her raised cushion to opt instead for the coolness of the floor near the morning room.
I dozed for a short time.
My head felt strange, and I had no ability to focus as I was roused unexpectedly from sleep yet again. I felt movement on the bed, and for a moment, I thought Amarra had actually jumped up to the mattress. I could not see anything in the deep black of the moonless night, but whatever was sitting beside me was much larger than the dog. I felt deft fingers brush against my arm, and I gasped in a breath in order to scream.
“Shh, shh, shh!” A voice called out, and I felt a hand cover my lips, pressing down. “Do not cry out, my beautiful wife.”
“Branford?” My dreams had become so real now, I could hardly tell the difference, for I was sure the hands on me belonged to my husband, but how could it be so?
“Yes.” His fingers released my lips, and both hands coiled around my back. I inhaled his scent, heavy and comforting.
“Branford!” I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, realizing I was not dreaming. “Branford, are you really here?”
“Yes, my wife.” He lay down beside me, and I moved close to him. I reached up and stroked his cheek as he laid his head atop mine.
“Is it over?” I asked tentatively. His hair, grown longer since I had seen him last, brushed my cheek as he shook his head.
“I needed to see you…to know for myself that you are all right. The messenger’s information was too vague.” His hands traveled my body as if taking inventory. He paused as his fingers brushed over my sides. “You are not eating enough.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his neck.
“I am trying, my…Branford,” I told him. He pulled me away from his skin and kissed me softly. I placed my hands on his shoulders, and I gripped the chainmail shirt he wore over the leather armor covering his body. I wondered again if I was dreaming, but if so, it was a dream made of the most real sensations.
“I have missed you so much,” he whispered against the flesh at my neck. He opened his mouth and tasted my skin. His hot breath covered my face as his hands covered my body. “You smell so good…like the lavender bushes in the garden. Please…Alexandra…I need you.”
“Yes,” I said with a nod, and his hands grasped the hem of my nightdress, ridding me of it quickly. I heard the clink of his mail shirt as he dropped it off the side of the bed, and a moment later felt him pressed close against me, the warmth of his skin enveloping me as his mouth crashed to mine. He slid his hand down my arm, over my waist, and to my leg before he brought his fingers around to the inside of my thigh. He nudged my legs apart, and his fingers searched and discovered.
Branford drew the moisture from my body with his fingers, using it to coat me between my legs and up to the tiny spot he knew so well. His fingers circled it, moistening the flesh before they reached back inside of me, and his thumb pressed and rubbed. He sucked gently at my neck as his fingers pumped inside of me, curling back suddenly as he pressed again with his thumb.
“Branford! Branford!”
My body shuddered and clamped down on his fingers. I heard his own gasp as I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his arm. My head thrashed from side to side as he kept up his steady rhythm until I fell apart completely. His kisses trailed from below my ear, down my neck, and back up again.
Branford shifted, and I opened my legs to him more completely as he settled between them and readied himself. With soft touches from his lips against my temple, I felt him guide himself into my body, and the warm, welcome pleasure washed over me as he pushed forward and buried himself in me.
As we connected—his body joining with mine so completely—I took a long, deep breath. It was the first I had been able to fill my lungs since he had gone off to war. I felt the touch of his tongue on my nipples, licking in circles at first, but then sucking in earnest. His hands explored where his mouth did not, all the while keeping his slow, steady thrusts inside of me.
“So beautiful…so soft…my wife…” he mumbled into my skin.
I touched his hair, his arms, and his shoulders—running my hands over and over his skin as if I could not get enough of it. I couldn’t. He said it was not over—he may even be leaving yet tonight. I wrapped my arms around him and raised my head up to run my cheek over the top of his. He released my nipple and he kissed me, his tongue caressing mine as his hips continued their ceaseless rhythm.
Branford’s warm hands were in my hair, on my face, sliding over my ribs and down to my hips. Even with the heat of the summer night heavy in the air, his touch was comforting to my skin. I reached around his back, tightly gripping the muscles just below his shoulders as his movements began to quicken. I lay my head back, wrapped my legs around his hips, and tried to match his hurried movements.
I heard his low moan as I felt him empty inside of me, his body suddenly going taut as his hips collided with mine. He held himself there a moment before his muscles relaxed, and he rolled to his side, holding me close and nuzzling the skin at my neck.
“Do you need anything?” I asked softly. “Water? Or tea?”
“I just want to hold you.” His head rested heavily on my shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me. I felt his fingers skim my belly before they wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me close. I reached for his hair, stroking it softly from the top of his head, down his temple, and then down to his chin.
“If it is not over,” I asked tentatively, “how are you here?”
“I had to see you…be with you,” he said. “I have been insane without you.”
I felt his fingertips clench, digging into my skin.
“I rode alone. I left the rest of them behind, hiding in the forests. God, Alexandra—what have I done?”
My muscles tensed as the words poured from his mouth in a rush.
“I had good men, Alexandra.” He raised his head to look me in the eyes. The sorrow etched on his face tore at my heart. “I trained them myself…they were good soldiers. But there were just too many against us. I did not believe Edgar could gather such an army together in so short a time. I didn’t realize…”
His breath hitched in his throat, and he held his eyes closed tightly.
“They are almost all dead,” he said softly. He opened his eyes, and they implored me for an answer. “Where did he get so many men? You lived in his house...where did they come from?”
I could only shake my head in response.
“I am responsible for all of it. I knew when I chose you, it would be the final straw—the final insult to bring him to action. I did it with purpose and clear intent. All of their deaths are on my hands. All of them my fault...and I…I…I do not regret my actions.”
His gaze darted to mine again, and his hand reached to my cheek. He stroked my skin softly.
“I cannot regret them,” he said quietly, “for they brought you to me. God must have had some plan in mind, because He gave you to me. But the cost…so high…but you are so, so worth it to me.”
His other hand came up, and he held my face between his palms. His eyes looked deep into me as he leaned forward.
“I love you, my beautiful wife. You are my world, and regardless of the loss, I would never, ever take back any of my actions if it would mean I could not have you. I love you.”
My skin began to tingle as his words became clear, and I tried to search his eyes for some indication I had either heard wrong, or the words were not true. I found none and chastised myself for even considering it. Branford was not the kind of man to say such words without cause.
“Branford…” I reached up and touched his face, drawing my fingers over his jaw before I lifted my head up and placed my lips against his. “I love you, my husband. You are everything to me.”
His eyes widened as he looked down at me.
“I did not truly even dream…” he started to say, but quickly shook his head and ended his sentence with his mouth against mine. He continued to whisper the words against my mouth as I did the same. Eventually, he moved his lips to my neck, settling into the place he seemed to like the most. He held me, and I ran my fingers through his hair for some time before he spoke again.
“I have to surrender.” Branford’s whispered words cut through me. “If I surrender now, allow them to take what they have already gained without protest, I should at least be able to keep them away from here—away from you. To keep him away from my people, I will have to give him what he wants.”
“What does he want?” I asked.
“Sterling Castle,” Branford said. “He has always wanted it.”
“Why?”
“I have never understood his fascination with it. It does not matter now—if I offer it to him, he will let me end this. I must be able to bring peace back to Silverhelm.”
He found my fingers with his and brought them up to his lips, slowly kissing my knuckles. He rubbed the side of his face against the backs of my fingers and then held them against his chest.
“I have failed,” he whispered. “What must you think of me?”
I gripped his hands as they began to shake.
“I think you are considering your people first, putting yourself behind them and your kingdom,” I told him.
His gaze turned to meet mine, and a slow smile crossed his face.
“You sound like my mother,” he said quietly. He reached up and touched my cheek, then leaned in to kiss me softly. “Very, very wise.”
“She has taught me much,” I said.
“I can see you have taken her words to heart quickly,” he mused, “when it often took me many hard lessons before I understood her words. You are a very smart woman, my wife.”
I knew he could not see the blush on my face, but his fingers stroked across my cheekbone anyway.
“I will have to return to my men soon,” Branford said. “But I loathe the idea of leaving you. I swear, I will return as soon as I am able.”
“I will be here, waiting for you,” I whispered in return. “I love you.”
The words seemed so easy now, and his returning smile and sentiment was enough to send my heart into rapid thumps against my chest. Branford held me a moment longer, then pulled himself out of the bed, quickly donning his clothes. He strode across the room, pausing briefly to stroke Amarra’s head. He did not look back as he left our rooms, and even from our window, as I watched him ride off into the night, he did not turn his face to look at me.
A messenger returned late the next evening with news of Branford’s surrender to King Edgar.
And that is how Silverhelm lost the war.
Chapter 24—Lamentably Arrange
It was a bittersweet moment when the scout on top of the castle called out, signaling the return of Branford’s army. As the people of Silverhelm crowded around the castle entrance, what was left of the men who went off to fight came into view. As the small group approached, the wails of those who had lost their loved ones rose up into the early evening sky.
As I spotted Branford atop Romero, his silhouette catching my eye immediately as he appeared on the horizon, I knew from his posture that he was weary and despondent. I longed to run to him as some of the other wives were doing when they saw their husbands in the distance, but I stood my ground. I stood tall as Sunniva did beside me, ready to greet the army as a whole, recognize their sacrifices, and do what I could to help our people accept the loss in their hearts. After our people were cared for, then I would tend to my husband.
Thirty-eight of Branford’s two hundred and fifty men returned. Some of those that did make it were greatly injured, being dragged in makeshift car
ts behind the horses. Some were beyond hope and only returned to die in their own lands with their families around them.
My breath caught in my throat as I saw the cart that bore Dunstan.
He was lying on his back, his right thigh wrapped tightly in cloth. Branford dropped from Romero’s back, handing the reins to Michael, and walked beside my former bodyguard with Parnell close behind. Branford’s gaze met mine only briefly as the horses came to a halt near the gates. He reached over and helped Parnell to pull Dunstan from the cart, carefully wrapping his arm under the injured leg. Though conscious, Dunstan was in obvious pain, and the bandages around his leg were seeped in dark blood. The two knights carried him past the onlookers and into the castle as the rest of the court followed.
“If he had not suffered such injury, Branford might not have come out of the final battle unscathed,” I heard Michael say to Camden as he walked up beside us. “We owe Dunstan for the life of the prince.”
“We will repay that debt in any way we can,” Camden responded.
I followed behind with the royal family as they took Dunstan to the barracks and placed him on one of the beds. Branford lay his hand on the man’s shoulder and spoke softly to him, and Dunstan nodded his response. Branford then turned and came to me and placed his palm against the side of my face, his eyes full of concern.
“Is there anything you can do for him?” Branford asked.
“I will look,” I said, “but I know so little of wounds such as these. I don’t know if I have the skill to help him.”
“Whatever you can do,” Branford said as his hand dropped from my cheek. “Anything.”
I held back my tears as I approached. Parnell and Michael laid Dunstan on his back on the mattress, and he cringed in pain as his leg was shifted. They stood near Dunstan’s head, holding his shoulders to keep him from moving as I slowly unwound the bandages from his leg. The cut was deep, red, and continued to bleed lightly. I remembered Edith speaking once of using a sewing needle and thread to bind a bad cut together, but I was not sure if such a thing could really be done.