by Shay Savage
“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 b
ed. 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.
Chapter 35—Daringly Battle
I remembered when I was a small child, and my father left to fight with King Camden against some rogues threatening the eastern border of Silverhelm. I did not recall why there was an uprising, only that their numbers required more than just a handful of soldiers to quell it. Camden had sat on his horse and moved back and forth in front of his men, speaking words of encouragement to them before they rode into battle.
