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“At the tournament in Sawyer,” I said without hesitation. “It was the first tournament you came to watch as my wife. When Sir Leland knocked me from my horse, and you were so upset…fawning over such a small wound. I was sitting on the bench near the entrance to the gardens, and you were in front of me, looking over my hand and worrying. I just looked down at you and I knew…I knew I loved you.”
Alexandra’s smile encompassed my heart as she wrapped her arm around my neck. She pressed her lips against mine, and I held her body close to me.
All the years I spent preparing for my role as leader of Silverhelm, I had thought of many things. I thought of my duty as the leader of my army, my loyalty to my family, lands, and people, as well as my responsibilities to govern those around me. It was strange that when growing up, I had never considered my role as husband and father. Perhaps I thought such things would simply not matter as much as my other duties, or perhaps I never watched carefully the relationship between Camden and Sunniva, but I knew now that there was nothing more important than the woman in my arms and the child who slept next to our bed.
It was my wife—her kindness, generosity, and loving nature—that saved my kingdom, not my sword. She showed me how caring for our people and treating them with respect was also part of my duty to Silverhelm. She was the one who taught me that every life—regardless of station—was important. She showed me how each and every subject was once like the babe she birthed for me—with a mother and father to raise the child, and then later a man or a woman with a family of their own. They had brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins—just as the nobles and royals did.
In the end, my people proved more important to me than any of the other royals and nobles with their own agendas and desires. Without them, I might not have this beautiful woman and healthy child in my castle. Without Alexandra, they would have had no one to speak for them and make sure their needs were met. I had let them down—used them for my own gain without considering them—and I knew I would never do that again. Like my own wife, son, and children to come, each and every one of the citizens of Silverhelm was my responsibility, and I would not disappoint them once more.
And that is when I truly understood my role as the King of Silverhelm.
Chapter 6 Epilogue –Lovingly Live
With my eyes closed, I felt the sun warm my face as I left the dense spring coverage of the forest surrounding Silverhelm Castle. The steady thuds of Romero’s hooves against the barren trail had lulled me into complacent thought, and I had not even realized I was at the edge of the woods. When I looked ahead, I could see through the trees the very top of the wall surrounding Silverhelm Castle. A moment later, a low bark alerted me to Amarra’s presence. She must have come from the field when she heard my approach.
Amarra followed Romero and me back to the stables and sat patiently scratching as I removed Romero’s saddle and placed him back in his stall with straw and a small sum of oats. There were few left, for the crops had not been good the previous year, and I decided to lower the tributes from farmers.
They had to feed their families first.
“You may not be in your prime any more, but you are still my trusted friend.” I patted the old stallion’s flank.
Romero shook his head and whinnied.
Amarra walked at my heel as we headed out of the practice field and toward the castle. Like Romero, Amarra was a little slower after this winter, and I wondered if her bones ached as Sunniva claimed hers did in the colder months. The dog certainly preferred being indoors over being outside in the dog run with the rest of the hunting pack. I noticed she now spurned the advances of the male dogs as well and wondered if I should start looking for another pup for breeding this summer.
Many people stopped and bowed their heads to me as we approached the Gathering Place right outside the walls and adjacent to the market. The area was designed completely by my wife and was a place where commoners and nobility alike could sit, work, and play together. There was a large open field for children to play, stone benches nearby where their parents could watch after them, and also fire pits to keep people warm and to use for cooking. The nobles of the court had frowned on the whole concept, but Alexandra did it anyway. Once the area was complete, the commoners came first, but the nobles quickly acquiesced because it was such a nice place to be. I had also thought Alexandra insane when she first mentioned it a year ago, but since then, it had proven a popular place for all families to bring their children. They all played together with little fuss, regardless of their station in life.
I spotted my own children immediately.
In the field, eight-year-old Prince Branford led his new pony around—a gift from Sawyer—for the other children to see, while his young cousin Claire and brother Camden followed after him. Emma, who was the oldest of the group at nearly twelve years, refused to play with the youngsters—preferring to sit with Ida and Alexandra on the benches as they embroidered and spoke of the Sawyer’s hope for a son this time around.
“It is hard to believe with everything else that happened,” Ida said, “that you and Branford end up with three sons while Parnell and I have only daughters!”
“Branford says you are having a boy,” Alexandra said with a smile. “He has always been right about ours.”
“Humph!” Ida huffed. “He always says every baby is going to be a boy!”
“He’s never commented on yours before, though,” Alexandra said. “Perhaps he will be right again.”
Ida seemed to ponder this for a moment and was about to comment when she finally noticed me standing near their bench.
“Branny seems to be enjoying his gift,” I said with a smile. I had long since given up on discouraging the nickname of my eldest son and heir. When one cannot win, one might as well join. “Thank you again.”
“I have three ponies,” Emma pointed out before Ida hushed her.
“Do not speak out of turn.” Ida scolded the child.
“But it is only Uncle Branford,” Emma protested.
“He may be your uncle, but he is also your king. Do not forget that, and always treat him with respect.”
“She said nothing wrong, Ida,” I replied. I leaned over to kiss the forehead of my wife, quickly followed by the month-old baby up on her shoulder—our third son, Liam. I turned to my oldest niece and smiled. “I have seen your ponies. They are almost as fine as the war horses your family raises. Do you ever ride the larger horses?”
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, and the embroidery was quickly forgotten as she went into stories of riding, watching the colts in the spring, and feeding the mares pieces of apple from her hands. We all listened to her tales for a while until Ida informed her it was time to head back home.
Alexandra stood, handed Liam to me, and went to help Ida gather her sewing and the children’s toys into a basket, which fit neatly on top of Ida’s swollen belly. She groaned in protest and rubbed at her back for a moment.
“This one better be a boy,” she mumbled, “because there is no way I am going to do this again!”
