The Concubine (Unexpected Circumstances 5)

Chapter 1—Nearly Destroyed

I felt warmth, then dizziness, and then the floor of the bedroom I shared with my husband seemed to be rapidly approaching my head. The words he spoke continued to revolve inside of my head, pushing me further down into oblivion.

“She is coming here as my concubine.”

As I fell, the dizziness worsened, but before my head hit the floor, I felt Branford’s strong arms encircle me. Then everything went completely dark. Though my mind was in turmoil within the blackness, I could still hear his voice.

“God…please…no…”

I still felt Branford’s arms around me though I could not open my eyes. I felt myself lifted and held against the hard warmth of his chest.

“Why? Why are You doing this to her? I understand if I need to be punished, but not her! Not her!”

I felt motion—my body rocking back and forth—still encased within the security of my husband’s embrace.

“I am sorry, my wife…my love…so, so sorry…”

I didn’t know how long my mind rejected all that was around me—the room, the words I had just heard—everything. I had not given him what he must have. I had not given him an heir. Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I knew there would be consequences. I knew something like this was possible.

“Do not punish her so…please, God, please!”

When I was finally able to bring air into my lungs, I slowly opened my eyes. Branford’s arms were wrapped tightly around me as he sat in our chair and held me against his chest. He rocked slightly, cradling me like, ironically, a child. The side of my face was pressed between the palm of his hand and the spot above his heart as he held me and rocked us both.

“Not her…not her…”

Somehow I managed to keep my eyes open, but I was still dizzy, and my vision was blurred. I looked up at my husband’s face, his eyes cast to the ceiling as he cried out over and over again. The light from the fire was on his face, and his cheeks glistened. I reached up and touched his cheekbone, finding it wet.

Never before had I seen my husband’s tears.

His gaze fell to me, and his pain washed through me and merged with my own.

“Please…Alexandra, please,” he said, begging. “It was not my wish…you must know this…”

“She will come here…to bear your child?”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and he nodded once before he opened his eyes slowly.

“Is there no other option?” I whispered to him, and his remorse multiplied in his eyes.

“I did not want this, Alexandra,” he cried. I felt the pressure of his fingertips against my side. “If there were any other way, I would seek it. I swear to you! I do not want this! I was given no choice!”

I could not find breath in my lungs.

His words rushed through me, chilling me far more than the winter winds ever could have done. My mind tried to push the words away from me—denying that they had ever been spoken at all.

But they had been.

“Has Camden demanded it?” I didn’t need to hear his reply—it would be the only way he would have acquiesced.

“He has,” Branford said, confirming my fear.

“What was discussed before I returned?” I asked, knowing I did not truly wish to hear this at all, but I had to know.

Branford took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. He cupped the back of my head and pulled me against his chest. I could hear the muffled beating of his heart below my cheek.

“The need for an heir has been discussed before,” he said, “between Camden and myself. Edgar has made his thoughts on the matter clear.”

Branford growled out the name of the man who had turned our kingdom upside down over the last year, continually demanding more and more from us. His constant threats to bring war directly to Silverhelm if we did not comply with his wishes had put him in a position of great power over our king.

“I should have told you,” Branford said, “but I did not want you suffering the dread I have felt since the summer—the first time Camden expressed his concerns that you had not become with child. I did not want you living with the fear of what could be demanded.”

His grip on me tightened as he continued.

“Edgar has brought it up on numerous occasions. He enjoys my reaction when he tells me I should have married his daughter, for in his eyes, commoners should not bear future kings. I have ignored and endured his comments, but as the months went by, he kept repeating them. He all but demanded I renounce you as my wife and take Whitney’s hand. I refused to comply. I will not do that, but Camden and the rest of the court concurred—I must have an heir. The kingdom is too unsure—too volatile after the loss of the war with Hadebrand. They need to know the line of succession is not broken. They must be able to have faith in their king…and their future king.”

I felt his lips on top of my head, and he brushed his hand through my hair.

“Camden is not as strong as he would like others to believe even though he cannot hide it all the time. He is not long for this world, I fear. If I take the throne without an heir, it will leave us vulnerable not only to Hadebrand but to others who side with them. They said it had to be done—that I must have a child—before next spring.”

“Next spring?” I echoed. It would mean no more than a half-year before Branford has an heir on the way.

“Edgar said again that my clear option was his daughter,” Branford told me. “I said some choice words regarding my feelings on the matter. Camden said if I had no other alternatives to suggest, he would command me with a royal decree to annul my marriage to you and take Whitney in your place.”