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Branford dismounted, reached up, and lifted me from Romero. He pulled the basket containing our lunch from the back of the horse’s saddle as I spread the bright green blanket on the ground. Branford dropped the food on the edge of the cloth and looked over into the woods.
“Come sit with me?” he asked, and he reached for my hand.
“Of course,” I replied. His fingers covered mine, and he pulled them to his lips before settling us both on the blanket.
“You recall last month when I attended court in Hadebrand without you?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
“I rode past Sterling Castle,” Branford said. “I took another route, which was not the straight path, just so I could get a better look at it. It had been so long since I had seen it, but I do not know what to think of what I saw there.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“Many men—workers, mostly. They could have been carpenters, masons, or both. They were bringing building materials from the field outside the castle walls into the gate. I could not determine exactly what they were doing, only that they have completely torn apart the east tower.”
“Why would they do such a thing?” I asked. “I thought Edgar wanted Sterling Castle?”
“As did I,” Branford said. “His actions make no sense to me.”
The sun warmed us as we ate and spoke softly to each other. Though Branford attempted to keep the conversation light, I was hoping out here—where there were no ears—he would speak more freely.
I was mistaken.
“I heard Whitney harassing you in the gardens,” I finally admitted.
Branford looked at me sideways.
“Eavesdropping again?”
“You still do not tell me everything.”
“I knew you were listening,” he said with a shrug. “You always look over that spot when you are thoughtful.”
I didn’t realize he had noticed.
“She wants to claim you,” I said.
“And her argument is always the same,” he said with a nod. “At some point…”
“At some point, what?” I asked.
“We still have no child on the way,” he finally said, “and the summer is getting late.”
“There is still some time,” I said.
“Not according to the court,” Branford replied. There was something in his tone I disliked immensely.
“Will they side with him?” I asked quietly. Though Branford’s word would still be taken as law, not to have the support of the cou
rt in his decisions could lead to distrust and eventually upheaval or even worse—revolt.
“Edgar has officially made the declaration I have known he would,” Branford said. “He has decreed you unfit as the wife of a noble and a queen. He has demanded that I denounce you and take Whitney as my wife. If I do not, he will take Silverhelm by force and place Sir Remy on the throne here.”
Branford turned and placed his hand on my cheek.
“I refused,” he replied softly.
“He has declared war? Openly?”
