“Then stop acting like a conceited ass and think of her first.”
“Is it too late?”
“Only Alexandra can answer that question,” Ida said conclusively. “If she does give you the opportunity, which you do not deserve, you will have your work cut out for you. No more half-truths and hiding things from her. Tell her everything, Branford. Let her know you. She will either accept you or not, but at least it will be out in the open. You are not such an awful man even if you are an ass.”
I could hear their soft laughter, the murmur of additional words, and the closing of the door before I heard Branford’s footsteps getting closer. The dim light from a candle he carried flickered over the walls as he approached me sitting up in our bed.
“You’re awake,” Branford said quietly. He sat himself on the edge of the bed and placed the candle on a nearby table but did not come close enough to touch me, and I was grateful. Remembering I still had not changed out of the dress that had started all of this, I pulled the bed sheets up to my shoulders.
“Only for a minute,” I replied though I realized he would wonder what I had heard of his conversation with his sister. I did not want to be deceitful to him, so I answered the question I knew he would ask. “I heard you and Ida talking.”
“She was afraid you would think she had something to do with it,” Branford said, gesturing toward me and the accursed dress. “She wanted you to know she had a proper dress for you and sent Ramona to deliver it and help you get ready. Something happened to her along the way. Ramona is trusted. We thought she had been with you all afternoon.”
Perhaps I should have felt comforted by his words, but I did not. My mind was still hazy from sleep, and my eyes were sore from the tears I had already shed. Remembering myself walking into the room with all those people looking at me and seeing Branford’s eyes made me shudder.
“When I saw you walk in, wearing that…that dress”—Branford’s voice turned cold and hard, and I flinched back toward the headboard, gripping the sheets tighter to my chest—“I thought the worst. It was irrational—I know that now—but at the time, all I could think was you had somehow managed to trick me. I thought you were a traitor sent to spy on Silverhelm.”
I could almost feel the phantom grip of his fingers on the flesh of my arm as he growled that word—traitor—into my ear as he dragged me back to these rooms. I closed my eyes, both to him and the memory.
“Look at me, Alexandra.”
I tilted my head and opened my eyes again slowly. He had leaned forward with one of his elbows propped against his knee, and his eyes flickered darkly in the candlelight.
“I was wrong,” he said. He spoke in a quick, hushed whisper. “I realize that now. I know you didn't...you didn’t wear that intentionally.”
I didn't understand his change of tone or the look in his eyes. He seemed almost as if he were in pain, and I fought back the same desire I had when I had shaved him—to run my hand through his hair and tell him everything was all right—because it was not all right. I didn’t even know what he now planned to do with me. Even as I tried to make meaning of the queen’s words in my conscious mind, I didn’t know if he would heed her wishes.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“God no,” Branford said immediately. “Alexandra, I won't hurt you.”
He sighed, and I watched him run his hand through the strands of his hair, much in the same way I wanted to do myself. He closed his eyes and placed the heel of his hand tight against the skin of his forehead.
“But I've lost any chance I had of gaining your trust,” he said.
Trust. Did he no longer trust me?
“I didn’t mean…I didn’t know…” I started to say, but the tears overflowed yet again, preventing me from speaking clearly. It didn’t matter what I said to him—he didn’t trust me. He was not going to listen to my word over that of two noblewomen. Branford’s hand reached for my arm, but I cringed away from him.
“Hush, Alexandra,” Branford said in his soft, calming voice. “Please don’t talk of it just yet. I must speak to you first if you are willing to hear my words at all.”
“Of course,” I replied. My stomach tightened, and I found myself nearly disgusted by the ingrained responses that flowed so easily from my lips when the words I wished to use were caught in my throat, refusing to come out.
Branford reached out and grasped my hands before I could move away, and then he stood, pulling me from the bed to stand in front of him. I wanted to bring the sheets with me to keep myself covered, but he took them from my clenched hands as I stood. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I watched him slowly lower himself to the floor, on his knees in front of me. He then opened his eyes and looked up at me. My mouth dropped open, and I stared at him.
“What are you doing?” I asked with a gasp.
“Alexandra,” Branford said, “I don’t deserve the opportunity, but will you please, please hear me out?”
“You shouldn’t…be like that,” I whispered. I tried to pull back on his hands to encourage him to stand again, but he shook his head.
“Please, Alexandra. Will you listen?”
“Of course, Branford.”
Branford took another deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Alexandra,” Branford said. “I’ve acted in a most hideous manner toward you this evening for something I know now was not of your doing. I should have known it then, but I let my emotions get the better of me, and my mind did not follow with any proper reasoning. I was angry, and I directed my anger at you, which was not deserved. I’m sorry for what I said and what I did tonight, but there is much more I need to say to you.