The Handmaid (Unexpected Circumstances 1)

“Alexandra,” Branford said. He stopped and turned me to look at him. “If there is something you want from there, tell me. I will get it for you.”

“It sounds so…silly,” I said with a shrug.

“Not if you want it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me!” Branford demanded. I startled and looked down at the ground.

“There is a…a bowl,” I mumbled. “I think it was my mother’s. I don’t really remember her, but it was given to me, and I was told it was hers.”

“What happened to your parents?” Branford asked. His voice was calm and quiet again.

“No one seems to know exactly,” I told him. “There was a sickness at the time, and many people were dying. It is assumed my parents died from the sickness. I was brought to Saint Anthony’s Abbey as a young girl.”

“You came from that village just outside of Wynton, did you not?”

“I did,” I said with a nod. “The Village of the Eagle.”

“Nearly the entire population was wiped out one summer,” Branford nodded. “I was just a child—perhaps eight years at the time, but I remember how they had to burn the whole village down. Even though the lands were Hadebrand’s, Edgar offered no help. Had the village still been in Sterling hands…”

Branford’s voice trailed off.

“How old were you?” he asked after a moment.

“They said I was around two years,” I told him. “I don’t know for sure.”

“I’m surprised you were not raised by the nuns at the abbey. That would be more common for an orphan.”

“Princess Whitney was in need of a playmate,” I told him. “We were of similar age.”

“And you spent all your life in King Edgar’s care?”

“Yes. Princess Whitney chose me from the abbey, so I became her playmate when she was young and her handmaid as she came of age.”

“I’m surprised I had not encountered you before if you have been with her for so long.”

“I never traveled with the Princess,” I said, shaking my head.

“And this was my first trip to Hadebrand in many, many years,” Branford told me. “I suppose that would explain it.”

We entered the courtyard and saw Sir Parnell standing beside a carriage, speaking to the driver. I saw Sir Branford’s dapple gray stallion tied to the back of the carriage along with another which was likely Sir Parnell’s steed. Branford took my hand and helped me aboard. Within minutes we were bouncing down the road to the north and the next kingdom. We rode for some time in relative silence, Branford and Sir Parnell speaking of mundane things such as the care of their horses and past tournaments. Sir Parnell again mentioned the impending ire of his fiancée, Lady Ida of Sterling, regarding the wedding.

“She’s never going to forgive you, Branford,” he said. “Even if you do allow her to hostess another reception, you will never live it down.”

“She’ll survive, Parnell,” Branford replied. “Once she has her initial fit over the whole thing, she will probably be relieved I didn’t come home with Whitney.”

“They were never friendly.”

“You put it mildly.”

“Regardless, I will plan on maintaining a position that does not place my body in between you and your sister,” Sir Parnell said. “Perhaps you should have me dropped off in Wynton, which should be a safe distance.”

Branford laughed and called up to the driver to halt for a break. He brought out a basket of meats, cheeses, and bread from the back of the carriage, which I prepared while Branford and Sir Parnell stretched their legs and watered their horses. The sky had darkened, and before we were moving again, rain had begun to drop from the sky. Within a minute, we were back inside the carriage, slightly damp, and heading down the bumpy road again. I was surprised at how tired I was from just sitting in the carriage all day and could

n’t help it when a yawn escaped me. Perhaps it was the weather pulling the sleep from me.

“Are you tired, my wife?” Branford asked. I considered insisting that I was not, but the look in his eye told me he already knew the truth.