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“No! Oh, please, God! No! Branford!”
I continued to scream his name and struggle against the arms that held me, but I could not break free. Two other men stepped forward, and their glaring eyes were full of determination when they grabbed my legs and lifted me from the ground. I wanted to keep struggling, but I was afraid of harming the child if I fell.
One man held my arms while two others each held one of my legs. I was carried in this way for many yards until I was dropped to my feet near a group of men on horseback. I recognized none of them, and there was nothing on their armor to tell from which kingdom they may have hailed. As I was manhandled and pushed toward a cart, many of the men turned their horses and began to head down the road toward the south, in the direction of Silverhelm castle.
And Hadebrand, I thought to myself.
There were still many around me—two holding my arms at my sides and two leading us through the men and horses still on the road. The babe inside of me chose that moment to roll and kick, leaving me quite aware of what my body protected. I clenched my muscles and felt hot tears run down my face. What could I possibly do? I would not have a chance against a single one of them, let alone four. There was only one other option—beg for mercy.
“Please…do not hurt me…my child…”
The pleas were met with a swift slap to my face.
“Silence!” one of the men roared at me, and a moment later a bag was pulled over my head, and I could no longer see. I was lifted and dropped again—this time in what felt like a pile of straw. I realized I must have been placed inside the cart, much like the way Lady Kimberly had been delivered to us by Sir Rylan.
The thought threw me into a panic.
I screamed and screamed and screamed until the cover over my face was lifted just long enough to shove a dirty cloth into my mouth.
I fought against the hands that surrounded me, but there were just too many.
I could not think straight.
My baby…my baby…
Branford…oh God…Branford!
Was he all right? Had they killed him? Would they kill me and the child inside of me?
I was rolled to my side and my hands were bound behind my back. My ankles were similarly tied, and a moment later I felt the lurch of the cart as it began to move.
For what seemed like hours and hours, I bumped along in the back of the cart. My nose itched from the smell of old straw and burlap, and my arms ached—not just because of the way they were tied behind my back—but because I desperately wanted to wrap them around the child in my belly.
Branford’s child.
I no longer tried to quell the tears from running down my face as I thought of him lying on the ground, motionless and silent. I openly sobbed as I tried to twist and turn my wrists to loosen the bonds, but to no avail. I could hear the stomping of the horses’ hooves and the voices of their riders, but I could not make out what was said.
As much as I did not wish to think of it, my mind could not help but consider that Branford could be gone. My heart seemed to halt in my breast as hot tears covered my cheeks. Another sob choked my throat as I thought of him never seeing his child, and screams of near hysteria made my throat raw when I thought I may never lie next to him again and feel his protective arms encircle me in the night.
As much as I may have preferred it, I did not manage to fall into unconsciousness as we traveled, so I was immediately aware when the cart slowed its pace. I could hear muffled voices and the rumble of the cart’s wheels as it began to travel over stone. The sounds of more people surrounded us, and I heard louder voices and cheers.
“So much for the commoner queen!” one voice yelled out.
“How dare she think she could carry a king’s heir?” asked another.
“She will know her place now,” said a third.
The cart stopped, and I felt the ties around my ankles released. I was lifted out and pushed forward, knocking me to my knees. I struggled as someone grabbed my arms to right me, but then a sharp blow to the back of my head stunned me. I cringed, not just from the pain, but from realizing the same person could have chosen to hit me in the stomach instead.
Without additional fight, my bound arms were wrenched painfully behind my back, and I was shoved forward again. My feet stayed underneath me this time, and I managed to keep pace with my abductors until we came to an abrupt halt, and the sack over my head was removed.
As my eyes adjusted and my vision focused, I looked into the eyes of Princess Whitney of Hadebrand. She sat in a regal chair with her hands folded in front of her and a look in her eyes that was filled with both hatred and glee at the same time. She leaned forward and bared her teeth.
“Did you think you could really get away with this?” the princess said with a snarl. “Branford was meant to be mine—always! Since we were babes, everyone knew our marriage would unite Hadebrand and Silverhelm!”
Before I could respond, a man stepped out of the shadows behind her, his long dark hair and beard hiding most of his face from view. I could see little but his dark, expressive eyes and heavy brows. He moved to my side and his lip turned up in a cruel snarl. I could see the remnants of an old scar across his eye, and I cringed even before I saw what was in his hand. He held up a knife in front of my face, and Whitney laughed as he brought it down and
cut through the ropes around my wrists.
