“I’ve always been at the mercy of others,” I said. “If I had been a princess when you chose me—”
“Who do princesses usually end up marrying?” Branford interrupted again. “Do you think they have any more choice in the matter than you did? I at least gave you the opportunity to refuse if you so desired. Do you think the princesses of the realms have that luxury? Their fathers choose some man based on his political influence, not the man’s concern for his daughter. Edgar was ready to marry Whitney off to me, and I hate her. That whore threw herself at me after a tournament at Sawyer Castle. I won, I was celebrating, and I was quite drunk. She helped me back to the inn where I was staying, and then I helped her out of her clothes. In the morning she told me I would have to marry her, and I laughed.”
“Why did you laugh?” I asked, for it seemed a logical assumption on the princess’s part.
“Because, Alexandra,” Branford said. “Because I am free. I am a noble, and I am a man. I can do whatever the hell I want. I can take God’s name in vain. I can kill on a whim, and I can sleep with any woman I choose. The Church will offer me forgiveness, and no one will consider me any the less because of it. The most I will ever have to put up with is the ire of my king and queen, which is not to be taken lightly. Whitney is a fool. Not only did she give her virginity to me, she’d made it clear she was trying to trap me into a wedding. As if I would let someone so close to my enemy into my household.”
Branford turned toward me, his eyes blazing but not in the same way they had when he touched me the day before. There was anger and hatred in them but also that quiet, desperate sorrow I had seen before.
“Do you see?” Branford asked. He walked back to me and held the sides of my face. He was gentle—his fingertips just barely pressing into my skin—and I had no fear of his actions, even as his eyes burned into me. “Do you see why I couldn't marry her? Even when Camden told me to? I couldn't. I wouldn't be wed to the daughter of the man who killed my parents. Do you understand, Alexandra? Please, please understand. I couldn't do it. I couldn't.”
“I understand,” I said. His eyes closed and he rested his forehead against mine.
“Do you really?” Branford asked. His tone was abruptly cold again. “Do you really understand, or are you just saying it because you think that's what I want from you?”
I didn't know how to answer, and I could not help but feel a cold chill run up my spine at his harsh tone directed at me.
“Please, don’t look like that,” Branford said in a soft, no longer chilling voice. “I wasn’t trying to frighten you…I just want to hear the truth. You are so apt at hiding what you feel inside, I’m never quite sure if you mean what you say.”
“Do you believe King Edgar really ordered the murder of your parents?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“Then I understand,” I told him, trying to keep my voice as firm as I could manage. Branford’s eyes looked into mine for a moment, and then he nodded his head.
“Thank you,” he said. “I want you to always speak what you truly think and believe when we are here alone.”
“But not when we are in the company of others?” I asked for clarification. Branford scowled a moment.
“I would not want you to contradict me in front of others, no,” he said. “As long as that is not your intent, you should be able to speak freely most of the time. If there are others above your station, which is now restricted only to immediate royalty—kings and queens, princes and princesses by birth, not marriage—their word takes precedence. Otherwise, your word is as good as theirs.”
“But you don’t speak of these things in front of others, do you? You don’t talk of the…betrayal of your family or of war with Hadebrand.”
“No, definitely not.” Branford’s voice was harsh and dark. “Speaking of it could alert them to my plans. Edgar killed my parents. I may not be able to prove it, but I know it in my heart. He may not have done the deed with his hands, but he was still behind it. He wanted our lands—took most of them, too. Only by the will of the Church do I still have rights to Sterling Castle itself, but many of the lands around it are now Edgar’s.”
“That’s why you chose me as a wife—to anger Edgar into war.”
At first, I simply nodded to myself, and then I stopped breathing as I realized the words had actually exited my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say it—not out loud.
“Why did you say that, Alexandra? Sunniva did not speak of those details.”
There was no way around it now. If we were truly beginning again, I would have to confess my indiscretion and hope he would have mercy on me. I again remembered the carriage driver begging for leniency where there was none to be had. I glanced up at Branford, and he stood above me with his head tilted slightly and one eyebrow arched upwards.
“I heard you talking to Sir Parnell,” I finally said quietly. “I wasn’t asleep, and I heard what you said. I planned to tell you. I didn’t mean to overhear; I just wasn’t quite asleep.”
I closed my eyes and braced myself for whatever his reaction might be. For a long moment, the room was silent. Finally, Branford spoke quietly.
“What did you hear?”
“Everything, my…Branford.”
He was silent for some time.
“You seem to have a habit of listening to conversation not meant for your ears,” Branford said. I couldn’t tell from his tone if he was angry or not. “What else have you heard that I don’t know about?”
“Nothing, my lord,” I said quietly. “I never meant to keep it a secret. I meant to tell you all of it, I swear.”
“It doesn’t matter, Alexandra,” Branford said. “It seems I have nothing to hide from you anyway.”