by Shay Savage
“Branford…”
He stood slowly then and took my face between his palms.
“I love you so much, my wife,” he told me. “I never stopped—I swear it! I am just a stupid, violent, and selfish man who did not know what you needed and did not bother to ask. I should have known. I should have asked, but I did not. Can you ever, ever forgive me?”
I stared into his glowing green eyes and felt the weight and truth of his words as they flowed over me. I did not need his apology. Just knowing that he was not lost to me was all I really needed, and I told him so.
“I do not know what else you need from me,” Branford said. “Beyond the physical, I am ill-informed, but I will learn if you will teach me.”
“I will tell you,” I said, “if you will allow it and not reject me again.”
“Never,” he said with certainty, and his lips brushed timidly across mine. He looked at me then, and I could see the questions forming in his eyes. “Does it really…please you…to care for me?”
“It does,” I replied with a nod.
“Will you bathe me, Alexandra?”
I smiled up and him and took him by the hand to the washbasin. I warmed his bathing water as he removed his shirt and replaced his trousers with those he slept in. I washed his arms, chest, and back before changing into my own sleeping gown as he drank the tea I made for him.
He was already in our bed as I approached, and I was feeling strangely shy as I had in the first days of our marriage. He smiled up at me, and I could feel his own hesitation as I took my place at his side, and he enveloped me softly in his arms.
“You feel so good against me,” he said as he kissed the top of my head. I rested my cheek over his heart. “It feels right to have you here.”
“I was here while you were not,” I said quietly, hating my own words because I knew they would cause him pain. “I was waiting for you.”
I felt his body stiffen.
“Is it too late?” Branford asked in a breathy voice. “Have I hurt you too much? Alexandra…have I already lost your heart?”
I reached for his rough cheek, and my fingers caressed his skin.
“No, my Branford,” I whispered to him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a held breath. I could see his throat bob as he swallowed before opening his eyes to me again.
“I love you,” he told me, “more than anything, ever. I never, ever wished to hurt you as I have. I am an utter fool, my wife, but I never meant you harm—I swear it.”
“I know,” I replied. I felt warm wetness on my cheeks as my tears escaped.
He moved his head closer, approaching me slowly with questioning eyes. I nodded slightly, and he covered my mouth with his. Our lips moved slowly against each other’s, and when his tongue touched my mouth, I opened to him. He groaned into me, and his arms wrapped slowly and tightly around me.
With a quick roll, I found myself supine beneath his body.
He continued to kiss at my collarbones as he deftly untied the laces down my front. I lifted myself from the bed as he slowly pulled the garment from my body, his eyes taking in the sight of me. He rose up on his knees and quickly rid himself of his own clothing. I heard it drop to the floor beside our bed, and Branford positioned himself on top of me with his weight supported by his hand beside my head. He kissed me deeply again on the mouth, then trailed kisses up my jaw and down my throat.
“I have missed this so much.” He breathed against the skin of my neck. “Missed you so much…”
I reached up and placed my hands on his cheeks.
“I love you,” I told him. “Always.”
Supporting himself on one hand, he gathered both of my hands in his free one. Branford kissed my fingers—each in turn—then laid my hands at my sides as he started using his mouth and hands on my breasts, then my stomach, and then the curve around to my hips. The feeling of his fingers over my body was indescribable, and as he moved toward my center, my breath hitched and my heart began to pound.
The warmth of his mouth on me made me shiver, the sensations rising up through my body until I gasped. His tongue circled around, then dipped lower, pushing inside of me as he tasted from my body. He moved his fingers up and down between my legs and then focused at the apex, circling in a slow, steady rhythm.
The muscles in my legs tensed, and I reached for his head. He ran his tongue up and circled the spot where his fingers had played, and I felt him reach inside me, moving gracefully and penetrating me deeply. As his fingers curled upward, he pushed down with his tongue and sucked at me as I came undone around him, crying out his name.
I could feel his smile as he kissed up my body. His fingers slipped from inside of me and spread moisture throughout my folds. The tip of him pressed solidly against my opening, and he pushed slowly with his hips.
I was surprised at how he stretched me as he entered—my body resistant to the intrusion it had not felt in so long. He moved slowly, gently filling me until I felt him inside of me completely.
“Are you all right?” Branford asked softly with his lips pressed to my ear. “You feel so tight around me…”
“Yes…please…more…” It was all I could manage to mutter in reply.
He obliged and began his slow movements in and out of me, creating the friction my body desired as he moaned softly into my hair. I wrapped my arms tightly around his back, and my hips rose up to meet his thrusts, rising partway off the mattress as I strained to touch more of him. This is what I had missed—not the act itself or the pleasure it brought but the feeling of the way he gave himself to me completely as I gave my heart and soul to him.
With my head tossed backwards, I cried out for my husband as my body shook and trembled in ecstasy. His long fingers stroked over my shoulders and breasts as his mouth tasted my skin over and over again. I felt the tension in his broad shoulders as his movements inside of me quickened, and his eyes closed as he filled me deeply. He was still for a moment, and then his arms seemed to give out as he collapsed on top of me.
I could hear his whispered words of prayer though I could not make them out. He tried to roll a little to the side in order to relieve me of some of his weight, but I held fast to him, relishing the feeling of his body atop mine.
He found the spot on my neck with his lips, and I felt the trace of his tongue over my skin. He licked and sucked and kissed there for a minute before settling his forehead against my shoulder and letting out a long, slow breath.
“I love you, my beautiful wife,” he whispered into my skin. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I promise I will be better to you. I will think of everything you need—be it of mind or body—and I will, someday, be worthy of the love you have bestowed upon me.”
“You are everything to me, my Branford.”
*****
My head felt heavy and warm with the coming of sleep.
I was wrapped in my husband’s arms, feeling the slow, methodical brush of his hand over my hair as my head lay against his chest. Though my thoughts were still in turmoil, I could feel the warmth and security of his embrace once again against my heart.
Though I did not wish to think of it, my mind replayed the threat Edgar made in the great room, and my thoughts ever since had been conjuring images of what might happen. Would he truly do as he said? What if he did come here with his army, and Branford were killed? My stomach clenched as I thought of what he said he would do to me, and an involuntary shudder ran through my body.
“What are you thinking?” Branford asked quietly.
I shook my head quickly, trying to avoid the answer, but I felt his hand under my chin, and I looked at his face. His eyes were deep with worry.
“You are thinking of what he said?” Though it was a question, I knew from his expression he was well aware, so I nodded slightly in response. “I wish you had not heard such talk. I never wanted your beautiful face contorted in fear of him.”
“He has said these things before?”
Branford nodd
ed.
“You did not tell me.”
“I did not wish to encumber you with those worries.”
“I want to know,” I told him. “I wish to share your burden. Will that not be my duty as queen?”
“It is my duty,” Branford said, “and my load to bear. I want you to think only of joyous things, not to be plagued with the worries I suffer.”
“I would rather know,” I said. My skin crawled from my own words as it often did when I told a servant what to do or expressed a difference in opinion to my husband or another royal. I reached up and touched the side of his face. “Otherwise, I think…I thought you did not love me any longer.”
“Alexandra,” he whispered, and his brow furrowed, “I will never stop loving you.”
“Branford,” I said as I sat up a little. His hand dropped from my hair. “Am I not your wife?”
“Of course you are!”
“Then please…please let me also care for your mind as well as your body,” I said, using the words he had spoken to me earlier. “Let me share your burden.”
He looked at me for a long moment before his hands rose to cup my face.
“You truly wish this?” he asked softly.
“I do.”
He seemed to contemplate, then gave a slight nod.
“You are—as always—my better,” he said, and he lifted his head from the pillow to capture my lips. I kissed him softly and then lay my head back upon his chest to listen to his slow, steady breathing and the beat of his heart.
“I love you,” I told him.
“And I love you,” he replied. “I hope I will be better at showing you this in the days before us. It is my wish for you to be happy—”
A knock at the door interrupted Branford’s words, and he growled as he slipped from the bed and went to see who was there. A moment later he returned, his face ashen and his eyes staring toward me without seeing.
“Camden…” he whispered, his voice shaking on the single word.
And that is when I knew our king was dead.
Chapter 5—Finally Discover
Though I should have expected it, the blaring of the trumpets startled me.
I looked up at the castle walls and could not begin to count the number of people there—trumpeters, nobles, and commoners alike. Though I had attended spectacles where most of the castle-dwellers and several nearby commoners were present, it was nothing like this.
When I first learned about Branford’s kingdom, he spoke of the prior census of the lands, indicating some three thousand men, women, and children occupying the lands surrounding the castle. It seemed as though every one of them was here now.
They were here to witness the coronation of their new king.
Messengers had gone out in the middle of the night, announcing at the same time the death of King Camden and the crowning of King Branford. The ceremony was a formality—a spectacle for the people, since the crown had been placed on Branford’s head as his father’s body cooled. The kingdom could not be without a king—not even for a moment.
My mind summoned memories of the early hours of the morning.
I had followed Branford back to the king’s chambers and was immediately met by a crushingly distraught Sunniva. I held her, keeping her from falling to the floor as Branford approached Camden’s bed. I stared, unable to remove my gaze from Branford as he reached out and touched his adoptive father’s hand. He flinched back immediately, and I could see a shudder run through his bare shoulders.
Others in the court had gathered in the hallway as the news spread through the castle. Father Tucker approached, stepping around Sunniva and me as he made his way to Branford’s side. He spoke quietly to him, and I could not make out the words. He also reached for Camden’s hand and then touched his face and the side of his neck. He stood and turned toward the open doorway.
“The king is dead,” he said to all in the room. He turned back to the king’s body and took the crown from the small platform above Camden’s head. Branford stood motionless as the symbol of the kingdom’s leadership was placed upon his head. “Long live the king!”
“Long live King Branford!” the voices from behind me began to chant. Branford turned slowly to them, looking upon his subjects with a pale face and shock in his eyes.
He didn’t look that different now.
As Branford left my side and walked through the swarm of people, the crowd barely contained by the guard, he managed to hold in the numbness I knew he still felt in his heart. He would not display it in front of his people.
I felt Ida’s hand against my back, signaling me to follow Branford’s strides toward the raised platform near the castle gates. As I walked through the opening and into the view of the crowd, a cheer rose up that was even louder than the cries for their new king. I felt my face burn in embarrassment but managed to force my feet to take me through the throngs of people and up the steps to stand next to my husband and king.
Though the crown was already officially transferred, Sunniva placed the simple gold circlet upon Branford’s head. He then, in turn, took the crown that had adorned Sunniva’s head for many years and placed it on mine. As the crowd continued to call out to us, Branford leaped up on Romero, and I was placed in front of him before we rode slowly around the castle.
The people cheered as Branford waved. I gripped his arm as he held me against his chest, and his mouth breathed warm air to my ear.
“They love you,” he said. “They see you so clearly.”
I felt heat rise to my face again as Branford pressed his lips to my cheek, and the cheers of the people of Silverhelm grew louder.
“Long live King Branford! Long live Queen Alexandra!”
The chanting became deafening as Branford slowly directed Romero down the streets, the stallion’s tail swishing at the ruckus around us. People who could get close enough to us reached out to touch Romero’s flanks as well as Branford’s legs and the skirt of my dress.
“I believe they would do anything for you.” Branford sighed as his arm held me tighter. “I have so much to learn—so much to make up for—but I can only hope to be as good a king as you will be a queen.”
*****
Our deadline was fast approaching.
Within a week, I would either be in the Women’s Room yet again with my husband’s concubine in tow, or one of us would be with child. If this did not happen, King Edgar would strike—either with his army or with his daughter.
King Edgar and Princess Whitney had come to the castle on their weekly visit in order to make that fact as clear as possible to Branford, who still struggled with the loss of his adoptive father, the grieving former queen, and his wife whose body would not produce the heir he needed.
Most of the court, myself included, had been removed from the great hall hours ago. I had stayed in the royal chambers to try to place things where I wanted them, for we had been moved into our new rooms only a few days before. Amarra walked around the room, sniffing at the corners and examining the spot by the fire where her bed had been placed on its platform. Janet arranged my dresses, and I took care of Branford’s clothing. He did not like my handmaid touching his things.
“Where shall I put these?” Janet asked as she held up a small box filled with jewelry Branford had purchased for me.
“Over there,” I said as I pointed at the chest of drawers near the bed. “Up on top.”
“Yes, Lady Alex—yes, my queen.”
I chuckled a little. It had been difficult for Janet, who addressed me so frequently, to change my title. She apologized for it often, and it reminded me of the first days with Branford, when I could not stop referring to him as my lord.
My Branford.
Janet and I continued to organize the rooms. I was glad she still seemed to be able to chat with me, regardless of the crown that was now on my head.
“Watch, Janet,” I said as I bent down to organize all of Branford’s things on the shelf under the water basin. He was quite particular
about where they went, and I was careful to put them in the same positions they had been in before.
“I see, my queen,” Janet said. She stood up and smiled at me. “I keep thinking maybe if I…if I can do everything right, maybe someday…”
She did not finish her sentence, but I knew what she meant.
“Branford has a very difficult time accepting people,” I told her softly. “It is his nature to not trust.”
“I have tried to serve him as I do you,” she replied. “What else can I do?”
I shook my head slowly.
“There is nothing, I’m afraid,” I told her. “Perhaps in time he will become accustomed to your presence enough not to be so harsh with you.”
“Does he think my performance inadequate?”
“No,” I said, trying to reassure her. I walked over to Janet and placed my hands on her shoulders. “Your service is exemplary, and I have told him such. Besides, you are also a good friend to me.”
Janet’s cheeks darkened, and she smiled shyly.
“Surely not,” she said quietly. “I am but your servant.”
“You are my friend,” I said, insisting. When she looked up at me, I hugged her. She placed her arms around my back and held me for a moment. When I released her, there were tears in her eyes.
“Thank you, my queen,” she whispered. “I enjoy being at your side more than you will ever know.”
We went back to our work for a time, but soon I needed a reprieve. I stepped out of the room just to get away from it for a while. It felt very strange to be in the royal chambers at all. I had been comfortable in our rooms before, and now all I could think was that Camden had died here. Even though the bed and the rest of the furniture were from our other room, it still felt unnatural. The only thing I truly enjoyed about the room was that it was there where I could remove the crown that had been placed upon my head.
Branford had talked before about not wanting the crown—not wanting to be king. I had never really thought much about how it would change my position. Everything in my life still felt so strange to me, even after more than two years. In my mind, I spent more days feeling like a servant than I did a noble.
