The Concubine Read online

  Of course there was what was most important to my heart—for if Branford had not made such a bold move, I would not have him as my husband. That in itself was unthinkable to me. If one could have looked into the future and changed one’s path, perhaps I might have found some other way to be with my Branford, but we cannot change what has been—we can only make do with where we are.

  My thoughts brought me back to those years when I was a servant to Princess Whitney and the brutality I had witnessed though seldom endured myself. I remembered thoughts I had as a child—envious thoughts that sometimes plagued my slumber.

  “When I was young, I dreamed of being like Princess Whitney,” I said, confessing my inner thoughts to the queen. “I thought having servants and beautiful clothing would be so much…fun.”

  “And now?”

  “I think if given a true choice, I would rather be a commoner again.”

  “What do you mean a ‘true choice’?”

  I wondered if I should tell her what Branford had suggested. I decided it would do no harm since we would never do such a thing.

  “Branford said we could leave,” I said quietly. “He said he would take me far away so we would not have to suffer this.”

  I pulled back and looked at the queen’s face.

  “The thought was born of fear, Sunniva. He would never have truly considered…”

  “I know, Alexandra,” Sunniva said. A small, sad smile crossed her face. “There is not one of us who has not entertained such thoughts from time to time. Even now, as my husband is likely living through his final months, I wish I could take him away from his duties and his worries. But his duties would not magically disappear were he to go into hiding. Someone must care for our people, and if he does not, it must fall to Branford even if he is not ready for the responsibility. There are still those in Silverhelm who suffer for every poor decision either Camden or Branford has made. Think of how they would suffer with no leader at all. If Branford did not take the throne, what would become of our people?”

  “They would be vulnerable,” I said. My gaze dropped to my hands in my lap. “Without a clear leader on the throne, Silverhelm would be open for attack from more than just Hadebrand.”

  “Hadebrand, Peaks, Seacrest—they would be like vultures tearing at the bones after a feast—a feast made of our people’s flesh. Look at what has happened to Wynton since the loss of the war.”

  “The people there suffer greatly,” I said with a nod. “I heard Branford and Camden speaking of the famine there and how Edgar will not allow food to be brought in. He considers it punishment for Lord William’s defiance. Branford said Sir Rylan in Seacrest may be able to—”

  “Hush.” Queen Sunniva placed her fingers against my lips. “Do not speak of such things, not even here.”

  I nodded and found myself looking around the room. Who could have heard us here? Was the possibility of spies so great I could not speak of Branford’s allies sneaking food to the people who used to be subjects of Silverhelm? Perhaps it was.

  “I spoke with Lady Susan a fortnight ago.” Sunniva reached out her hand and took mine. “The conditions in the village worsen each week. Many are weakened by the lack of food and have fallen sick.”

  “Silverhelm itself would be so much worse if left undefended,” I said. I knew King Edgar continued his vendetta against anyone who was considered a friend of Silverhelm. If his influence spread farther or if he gained more control over Silverhelm, our people would be targeted, abused, and killed.

  “Precisely,” the queen said with a nod, “which is why you will endure for the sake of our people and our kingdom. We will endure everything we must.”

  I nodded but could not stop my tears from coming again.

  “I know how hard this is for you,” she said softly. “Your position is not unlike mine nearly was many years ago. Camden had to consider the same thing when I did not become with child. It tore at his heart even more than it did at mine. I imagine it is the same for Branford.”

  “He does not want to do this,” I said.

  “I know,” the queen replied. “He and Camden have spoken often of what to do. I wanted him to discuss it with you, but the idea of bringing you pain is abhorrent to him. He was convinced you would become with child eventually and did not want you to suffer with such thoughts unnecessarily.”

  Sunniva reached over to me again and took me into her embrace.

  “He loves you so,” she said softly. “I hope he tells you this.”

  “He does,” I assured her. “Very often.”

  “I am glad to hear that.”

  “I knew he was concerned. I knew he was worried about it. He prayed about it in the church all the time. I didn’t know we had so little time…”

  “If Camden was in better health or the relationship with Hadebrand not so volatile…” The queen’s voice trailed off. She did not need to spell out how our circumstances would be different had Silverhelm not lost the war. It had not only decimated Branford’s army, but the conditions of Branford’s surrender—the concessions given to Hadebrand to ensure Silverhelm would not be razed—had allowed Edgar a strong voice in the court. Many who had not agreed with Edgar’s opinions before were now being swayed by him.

  “He blames himself,” I said. “He pushed for the war when he was not ready for his enemy. He did not realize how many men Edgar had. Even when his own scouts told him of the numbers, he did not believe it.”

  “He learned a valuable lesson,” Sunniva said, “at a very high cost.”

  “He continues to pay the price for his mistake.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “And now he pays the price for my failure,” I said quietly.

  “Oh, Alexandra…my child,” the queen whispered as she held me. “I have been told God has His reasons and His plans for us though we may never understand them ourselves. Perhaps He tests your love for each other or your love of Silverhelm.”

  I tried to take a slow, deep breath, but it remained ragged.

  “What if I fail this test?”

  “I have faith in you,” Sunniva said as she held me tighter. “I have faith in you both.”

  The Queen of Silverhelm stayed with me for some time before she went back to her own chambers at my insistence. Though I finally slept, my sleep was not restful, and I awakened many times. Each time my eyes opened, I would look carefully around the dark room for Branford, but he was never there. As the hour grew later, I became concerned. I had assumed he would return quickly.

  I wanted him to return quickly. I did not want to think about how long he would be with her. At the same time, I also didn’t want him to return to me at all in the night because I was frightened of the state he may be in when he did return. He could be angry or worse, and I was not sure if I could soothe him this time.

  My husband had always turned to me when he was distressed. Whether because another spy had been found trying to infiltrate the new army he tried to recruit, or because of his adopted father’s failing heath, Branford found solace in my body. Sometimes his anger would lead him to take me forcefully, and his hard muscles and quick thrusts would have me crying out his name as his fury raced through me. Other times he would hold me close to him, slowly moving in and out as he held me and whispered softly how much he needed me.

  What would become of that now? Would he seek Hadley in those times instead with the hope she would become with child more quickly?

  The thought sickened me.

  As the hour grew impossibly late, I could not contain myself any longer and went looking for him. Amarra jumped from her cushion by the fire and followed me as I went searching for Branford. I did not get far before someone else found me instead.

  “My lady?” I heard the familiar step combined with the thump of a crutch and turned to find Dunstan approaching.

  “Hello, Dunstan,” I replied. “It is very late.”

  “I was going to say the same to you,” Dunstan replied. “It is too late for you to b
e out on your own. Sir Branford would not be pleased to see you about at such an hour.”

  “It is Sir Branford I am trying to find,” I said.

  “I thought you might,” Dunstan said. His eyes were full of worry.

  “You have seen him,” I stated.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He was in the garden some time ago,” Dunstan said, “but he left when I…when I tried to help.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  Dunstan shook his head.

  “Not in any way that could be mended with bandages, my lady,” Dunstan said. “He was more ill, I would say.”

  “Ill?” I repeated. Sunniva’s talk of Wynton and the sicknesses of the people there came to mind. “In what way was he ill, and where is he now?”

  Our loyal servant’s face became pained, but he did not respond immediately.

  “Dunstan, please, just say what you mean.”

  “I found him in the garden,” Dunstan said again, “on his knees and quite literally sick, my lady. Whatever meal he had eaten last was most certainly wasted.”

  “He is no longer there?”

  “No, my lady. He went outside the walls. I believe he was heading in the direction of the stables or maybe the kennel.”

  “Thank you, Dunstan,” I said.

  “Lady Alexandra,” Dunstan said with an insistent tone, “please, at least allow me to escort you. I could not in good conscience let you wander alone. If you must move quickly, I can find another.”

  His gaze moved to the slot in the wall where guards were ever present.

  “You may accompany me, Dunstan,” I said with a sigh. I could not deny it—he was quite correct. Branford would be angry if I walked outside alone even with Amarra at my side. Already this month three agents of Hadebrand had been discovered within the castle walls.

  Surrounded by the chill night air, we walked through the empty marketplace and across the field toward the stables. I pulled my wool cloak around me for warmth as I looked inside the wooden building, but no one was there save the horses. Next we went to the kennels, and as soon as I peered inside, I made out Branford’s form on the ground near the back.

  “You are no longer needed Dunstan,” I said. “Thank you.”

  He bowed slightly in acknowledgement but stayed at my side as he eyed Branford with caution. I took a step toward my husband, who sat with his back against the raised platform where the dogs found their resting places at night. In the dim light from the torch on the wall, I could make out both Argo and Helo near him. Branford’s knees were bent, and his arms rested across his legs as his hands dangled between them.

  “You may go now, Dunstan,” I said quietly and with a bit more conviction.

  The former soldier nodded and turned back around to the path. With my heart pounding in trepidation, I walked slowly to where my husband sat, gathered my skirts around me, and sat down next to him.

  “Branford?” I said softly. He did not startle, so he must have heard my approach even though he did not move.

  “You should not be here,” he said. His voice was strained and gravelly as though he had been shouting for a long time. “Go back to our rooms.”

  “Why are you here?” I asked, ignoring his command. He was silent for a moment but finally raised his eyes to me. They were red and swollen.

  “I thought this a fitting place to sleep,” Branford finally said as he made a sweeping gesture toward the dogs and their sleeping platforms covered in straw. He took a deep breath as he reached up to stroke the head of one of the dogs.

  “Did you…” I halted my words, steeled myself, and tried again. “Have you been with—”

  “Do not say it,” he commanded, “lest you wish to tend to my illnesses.”

  My mind went blank, forcing me not to consider what I knew had occurred. I wanted to know both everything and nothing at all. Had he taken his time and been kind to her? Had he hurt her at all?

  Was she already carrying his child?

  “Is she…alone?” I asked.

  “Samantha tends to her,” Branford said quietly.

  I could only nod. It was a relief, for I was not sure if I could tend to her myself. As much as I knew it to be necessary, and as much as I did not harbor a grudge toward either my husband or my friend for what they had to do for Silverhelm, I could not help the feeling of dread that washed over me.

  Would he want me now, too?

  Would he not want me now?

  Which was the lesser of the two evils?

  I looked at Branford sitting on the ground with a piece of straw in his hands. He slowly pulled it apart with his long fingers.

  “You are sulking,” I said. I tried to keep my tone light though I wasn’t completely successful. “Will you do this every time you must…must…”

  “Please do not speak of it,” he whispered quickly. He dropped his head into his hands. “I cannot…I cannot even think of…of what I’ve done…”

  His voice hitched in his throat, but when I reached out to comfort him, he withdrew from me.

  “How can you still bear to be in my presence?” he asked. He looked at me, and his pained expression hit me in the chest.

  “You are still my husband,” I said, reminding him as I tried to keep my tears from reappearing. I moved closer beside him in the straw. “That has not changed.”

  “I failed you,” he whispered. “I kept this possibility from you…did not prepare you for what could come. It is the same as how I failed to prepare for war, denying myself thoughts of a possible loss and what it would mean. I was blinded by my arrogance.”

  “You have not failed me, Branford.” I leaned my head against his shoulder, and he did not pull away. “You have done what you must do for your people.”

  “What if I fail them again as I failed them in war?” he asked though I did not believe he expected an answer from me. “What if Hadley does not…”

  “Shh.” I hushed him as I moved closer. “Let us cope with one difficulty at a time, shall we? I do not honestly believe I can handle more than the present one right now.”

  He finally looked directly at me and reached out his arms. I moved my arms around his neck as his encircled my body. His head rested against my shoulder, and he took several slow, steady breaths before speaking again.

  “You will be far better as a queen than I will ever be as a king.”

  I placed my fingers under his chin as he had often done to me in the first months of our union. I tilted his head up and moved mine to one side as I spoke.

  “You will be a fine king, my Branford,” I told him. “The people of Silverhelm love you and look to you as their prince.”

  “They love my choice of wife,” Branford said with a snort, “not me. I have only caused them war and pain. You are the one they cherish.”

  “You have often told me we are one and the same,” I reminded him. “Of one flesh, we are. Will you take back those words?”

  He tilted his head sideways, and his eyes closed partway. His chest rose and fell with his breath before he turned his gaze back to me.

  “Never,” he whispered. “You complete me.”

  “Our people love you,” I said again. “You have made your mistakes, and you have tried to rectify those as much as you can. Someday, you will set it all right again.”

  “But in the meantime, I am at the mercy of that bastard in the next kingdom.” Branford pushed at the ground with both hands until he stood. He took several steps away from me, toward the opposite wall from where he sat. He placed his palms against the wood slats in the kennel and leaned heavily on them.

  “There are days I wish I had died in that war.”

  “Branford, no—”

  “Many days,” he said, interrupting. “When I look at the families of the men who died in my war or see Dunstan trying to hold his head up as he limps around the castle, I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could somehow trade my life to erase all the damage I have done to my p
eople. There are only two things that keep me bound to this earth—my duty to my kingdom and you.”

  “I already betrayed my kingdom because of my lust for vengeance,” he said quietly. He did not move from his position facing the wall. “I thought…I thought at the very least, I would never betray you.”

  He turned slowly toward me, his green eyes blazing in the torchlight.

  “And now I have.” His voice cracked. “And if she does not become with child this month, I will have to do it over and over again until she does.”

  My stomach clenched, and I felt that I, too, might be sick. He was right, of course, and I knew this, but to hear him speak the words aloud was almost more than I could take. I stood, wanting to scream and deny what he said, but I knew I could not. It was something that simply had to be done.

  I stood and took a step toward him. When he did not flinch, I went to him and threw myself into his arms. I pressed my face against the soft material of his shirt and inhaled the scent of him. The closeness had come to represent security and safety, and still I felt the warmth of his skin enveloping me and calming me.

  Branford ducked his head, and I could hear his deep breath as he buried his face in my hair. He stroked from the top of my head to my waist again and again.

  “This will kill me,” he whispered against my skin. “I wanted to…to pretend I had done it…but then she would never have a child. By summer I would be pushed again to denounce you and marry Whitney.”

  “You must have an heir,” I said. “I cannot give you one.”

  “You still may,” he insisted.

  I shook my head.

  Branford wrapped his arms around my shoulders and brought my body as close to his as possible. His lips touched my jaw, and he moved as if to trail kisses along my face, but he only moved up close to my ear, where his whispered words were just barely audible.