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“Please, Branford!” I begged. “It was an accident—please!”
I felt his hard, tense bicep muscle under my fingertips as I gripped him as hard as I could. I could feel his arm shaking under my fingers from the exertion of staying his hand. I knew if he decided to swing, there would be no way I could stop him, but I kept my grip regardless.
“You could have been hurt,” Branford said, his voice cold and hard. I could see the tension in his jaw as he spoke, not taking his eyes from the prostrate man at his feet.
“I wasn’t,” I said, reminding him.
“That doesn’t change the fact that his carelessness could have injured you,” Branford said. “I’ll not have anyone cause you harm!”
“I’m fine, Branford, please,” I said again. “Please, don’t do this.”
For several, silent seconds, Branford’s gaze flickered from the driver to me and back again. He didn’t move, save the motion of his chest as he breathed heavily. I wanted to beg him, as the man at his feet was begging him, silently with my eyes, though I didn’t know if he could read the plea in my expression. Finally, Branford took a step back and his arm dropped.
“Be thankful to the lady,” Branford commanded the carriage driver. “She saved your life.”
Branford pulled his arm easily from my hands and stalked back toward Parnell, sheathing his sword as his purposeful strides took him near the castle gate. The driver grasped me around my ankles, thanking me over and over again, swearing his life to me if I should need it. I stepped back, disengaging myself from his hands. He tilted his head up to me, tears still in his eyes. I took another step back, but the driver grabbed for me again. I didn’t want this…this…I didn’t know what this was. This man was like me—a servant who lived and potentially died at the whims of those nobles above him—and it was my clumsiness that had endangered his life. He shouldn’t be thanking me; he should be infuriated with me.
“Alexandra!” Branford called without turning to look at me.
“Yes, my lord,” I responded automatically. It was hard to draw air into my lungs as I took another step back and turned to walk as quickly as I could to catch up with Branford and Sir Parnell. Branford immediately reached for me and grasped me firmly on my arm, pulling me close.
“We will talk of this later,” Branford said into my ear.
“My lord, I only—”
“Later!” he growled.
I tried to keep my nerves calm as we walked swiftly under the huge portcullis which served as the main gate, Branford’s hand still on my arm. He veered to the left, toward a stone hallway and staircase, but before we got there, we were approached by a boy in messenger’s garb. He ran up to us, and Branford glanced over his shoulder to speak quickly to him. “Tell my uncle we will meet with him shortly.”
“King Camden said he wants to see you immediately upon your arrival, sire,” the messenger indicated. “He was quite clear on the matter.”
Branford stopped short and growled under his breath.
“You are just going to have to go as you are,” he said, glancing quickly over my mud-stained dress. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. They will understand you fell.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed the words, especially considering my husband was about to execute the man he thought responsible for my clumsiness. What if Branford told them the driver was responsible, and King Camden demanded his life? One look at Branford’s face told me I had already taken too many chances today, so I remained silent. Of course, he didn’t even know of my eavesdropping and nearly disloyal internal ramblings. Again I considered confessing what I heard though now was certainly not the right time. I looked down at my splattered outfit and cringed. If I had to meet his uncle in my current state of dress…well, there was nothing I could do about it.
We turned again, and Branford dropped my arm as he followed the messenger down a large corridor, lit with torches along the grey stone walls. Banners like those from the wedding reception hung evenly spaced down both sides of the corridor. Long before we reached the end, I could see two massive wooden doors looming ahead of us, stretching from the floor to the high ceiling. As we approached, the guards on either side met in the middle of the doors and pulled them open.
“They are currently holding court,” one of the guards told Branford after bowing low to him. “They are all in the main hall.”
Branford nodded his acknowledgement and glanced over his shoulder to me.
“Walk behind me on my left,” he said quietly. His lips turned up in a smirk as he glanced toward the heavens. “God be with me.”
I moved to walk a step behind his left shoulder, figuring this was something I could at least do correctly. Sir Parnell moved to stand to his right, and Branford led us both through the gigantic doors and into a grand hallway with incredibly high ceilings. Both sides of the hall were filled with people—all in clothing far too spectacular for anyone other than a noble. I continued to follow dutifully behind my husband as we entered the grand hall and made our way across the woven carpets of black and gold. I kept my eyes on the ground, partially because Branford had not divulged to me if I should look up, but also because I could feel the eyes of all in the court as they stared at me. I didn’t want to be able to see their looks as well. I could only imagine what they must think, for my mud-stained dress made me look exactly like what I was—a dirty commoner who had no business being here. This was a place meant only for the likes of me if there was cleaning required. I tilted my head down, and my hair fell across my shoulders, effectively hidi
ng at least part of my face from the onlookers. Unfortunately, that did not stop my ears from hearing some of their hushed words.
“Who is that?”
“What is she doing here?”
“What happened to her clothes?”
Though it would have been more in my nature to blush, I instead felt all color drain from my cheeks, and my stomach was quite uneasy. I glanced up just a little—peering off to one side as we approached the king and queen of Silverhelm. There was a small set of stairs at the end of the hall leading up to the dais where the king and queen both sat on their thrones. Aside from the many nobles standing to one side of the hall or the other, a small, dark-haired woman stood next to the Queen, her eyes glancing quickly from Sir Parnell to Branford to me. There were two other women standing just to the bottom of the stairs with mouths agape, their eyes boring into me unabashedly. One had beautiful, straight, silver-blonde hair, while the other’s hair was a more golden hue. They both had stunning features and beautiful clothing.
Branford reached the space at the bottom of the steps, pulled his sword from its scabbard, and dropped to one knee. He held his sword out flat in front of his body using both of his hands.
