Branford sat up and adjusted his seating in the saddle, pulling me closer to him in the process. I tucked my legs to the side and smoothed out my dress. He pulled at the reins and Romero slowed as we went down a steep incline. Once we were at the bottom, Branford leaned to the side and placed his cheek against mine.
“I’m sorry, my wife,” he said suddenly.
“For what?”
“For not knowing what you need to know,” he said, “and for assuming too much. I have been bred for this life, this position, and you have not. Even then, I don’t know what a queen should know, only what I need to know. I’m not even sure how much of what I have learned since I was a babe in arms would be taught to you as well. More than I think, I would guess.”
He settled back and pulled me tightly against his chest, adjusting my riding cloak so it was securely around my shoulders. I tensed a little, suddenly aware of our closeness as he moved his hips against my back. He began stroking my stomach, and the warm sun sneaking through the leaves of the trees was making me feel sleepy again. I relaxed against his broad chest.
“Alexandra?” The tip of his nose touched the edge of my ear.
“Yes, Branford?”
He tilted his head to look at me from the side, and I turned my head to face him.
“I truly wish to know you,” he said. “Not just because our queen demanded it. Even the very first time I looked at you—when I was in the arena and you blushed so beautifully—I wanted to know more about you.”
“I will tell you anything you wish to know.”
“I know you will.” He nodded. “But I don’t always know what questions to ask. I will learn, my wife. I promise you that. I am not going to fail you again.”
The ride back down the hill was more difficult for both us and the horse. Branford gripped me tightly, only occasionally slowing enough to press his lips to my cheek or hair. My head was still filled with sleep, and my long nap, combined with Branford’s warm arms and the steady movement of the horse, almost lulled me back into slumber. Though it must have taken nearly as much time to return, it seemed like the castle walls were in view in almost no time at all.
Branford tightened his arm around me and leaned close to kiss my cheek.
“We’re almost home,” he said.
I looked up to the towering walls of the castle, and I could see the shadowy figures of archers as they patrolled the wall-walks. The stables emitted the sounds of horses as they came in for the night, and in the distance, I could hear the bark of Branford’s hunting dogs. The red and golden hues from the sun’s lowered rays across the fields were breathtaking.
And that is when I knew I wished to call Castle Silverhelm my home.
Chapter 3—Regretfully Question
The evening breeze whipped random pieces of straw around the entrance to the stables as Branford rode through the doorway, dismounted from Romero, and then lifted me easily to the ground. One of the stable boys held the reins as Branford barked orders at him.
“Make sure Michael exercises him both in the morning and later in the afternoon. I want him ready to ride with armor the day after tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir Branford!” the stable boy chirped. He began to lead Romero into his stall.
“Feed him well this evening, and make sure he has enough water. If I see his pail empty again, someone will pay for it.”
“Yes, Sir Branford!”
“Tell Michael to check with the armorer in the morning, and make sure my armor has been properly repaired as well, including the helm.”
“Yes, Sir Branford!”
Branford held his arm out to me, and I took it. The sun was just starting to set behind the castle walls as we walked through the gate, up the path, and into the castle proper.
“I assume Sunniva has already planned on sending us dinner in our rooms,” Branford was saying as we started up the stairway. “After we dine, we can…sit for a while.”
I looked up at him, and he was smiling ever so slightly. I nodded, understanding what he meant, and I considered what questions I might ask him. I wanted to know more about his sister and Sir Parnell but wasn’t sure if that was the type of topic he wished me to broach in our chair. We had just reached the top of the stairs leading to the hallway and our rooms when we heard a shout.
“Branford Sterling!”
I felt Branford’s body tense as Queen Sunniva stalked down the hallway toward us. Branford’s fingers tightened on top of my hand as he watched her approach.
“You scared poor Dunstan half to death with that talk!” she said, scolding him. She placed her hands on her hips and scowled.