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“Not in any way that could be mended with bandages, my lady,” Dunstan said. “He was more ill, I would say.”
“Ill?” I repeated. Sunniva’s talk of Wynton and the sicknesses of the people there came to mind. “In what way was he ill, and where is he now?”
Our loyal servant’s face became pained, but he did not respond immediately.
“Dunstan, please, just say what you mean.”
“I found him in the garden,” Dunstan said again, “on his knees and quite literally sick, my lady. Whatever meal he had eaten last was most certainly wasted.”
“He is no longer there?”
“No, my lady. He went outside the walls. I believe he was heading in the direction of the stables or maybe the kennel.”
“Thank you, Dunstan,” I said.
“Lady Alexandra,” Dunstan said with an insistent tone, “please, at least allow me to escort you. I could not in good conscience let you wander alone. If you must move quickly, I can find another.”
His gaze moved to the slot in the wall where guards were ever present.
“You may accompany me, Dunstan,” I said with a sigh. I could not deny it—he was quite correct. Branford would be angry if I walked outside alone even with Amarra at my side. Already this month three agents of Hadebrand had been discovered within the castle walls.
Surrounded by the chill night air, we walked through the empty marketplace and across the field toward the stables. I pulled my wool cloak around me for warmth as I looked inside the wooden building, but no one was there save the horses. Next we went to the kennels, and as soon as I peered inside, I made out Branford’s form on the ground near the back.
“You are no longer needed Dunstan,” I said. “Thank you.”
He bowed slightly in acknowledgement but stayed at my side as he eyed Branford with caution. I took a step toward my husband, who sat with his back against the raised platform where the dogs found their resting places at night. In the dim light from the torch on the wall, I could make out both Argo and Helo near him. Branford’s knees were bent, and his arms rested across his legs as his hands dangled between them.
“You may go now, Dunstan,” I said quietly and with a bit more conviction.
The former soldier nodded and turned back around to the path. With my heart pounding in trepidation, I walked slowly to where my husband sat, gathered my skirts around me, and sat down next to him.
“Branford?” I said softly. He did not startle, so he must have heard my approach even though he did not move.
“You should not be here,” he said. His voice was strained and gravelly as though he had been shouting for a long time. “Go back to our rooms.”
“Why are you here?” I asked, ignoring his command. He was silent for a moment but finally raised his eyes to me. They were red and swollen.
“I thought this a fitting place to sleep,” Branford finally said as he made a sweeping gesture toward the dogs and their sleeping platforms covered in straw. He took a deep breath as he reached up to stroke the head of one of the dogs.
“Did you…” I halted my words, steeled myself, and tried again. “Have you been with—”
“Do not say it,” he commanded, “lest you wish to tend to my illnesses.”
My mind went blank, forcing me not to consider what I knew had occurred. I wanted to know both everything and nothing at all. Had he taken his time and been kind to her? Had he hurt her at all?
Was she already carrying his child?
“Is she…alone?” I asked.
“Samantha tends to her,” Branford said quietly.
I could only nod. It was a relief, for I was not sure if I could tend to her myself. As much as I knew it to be necessary, and as much as I did not harbor a grudge toward either my husband or my friend for what they had to do for Silverhelm, I could not help the feeling of dread that washed over me.
Would he want me now, too?
Would he not want me now?
Which was the lesser of the two evils?
