My nerves did not calm as Michael led Vanquish over to an area beside the arena and handed the reins to Sir Rylan, who would hold the wagers until the contest was complete. Janet stood beside the horse, looking very much like the commodity she was—confused and unsure as to what was happening. Sir Leland’s page had already completed suiting up the other knight and was now off to the side as Sir Leland began swinging his sword in practice.
“Come along, Sir Branford!” he called out. “Quit stalling and prepare to be defeated again!”
He laughed as Branford ignored his taunts. Sir Parnell finished with the last touches of Branford’s battle attire and took a step back. He spoke low into Branford’s ear, and I saw my husband nod in return and take possession of his sword. They were ready to begin.
Ida gripped my hand as Branford stepped into the arena.
Branford’s face was completely expressionless as he walked with purpose toward the center of the arena. His gaze was trained on Sir Leland as he made an arc in the sand. I could see the muscles of his arms flex through the tightly linked chains of his mail shirt and the strain of the tendons in his neck as he stretched it from one side to the other.
Sir Leland walked in from the other side with a wide grin on his face. He swung his sword from side to side in broad, menacing strokes. I felt Ida’s fingers tighten around mine. She had not been nervous during the tournament games, and her reaction to the confrontation was actually making it more difficult for me. It confirmed the situation was as I expected and far more dangerous than Branford had divulged.
They approached each other slowly with swords drawn but Branford’s not yet risen. Sir Leland continued to hurl laughter and insults at Branford, who remained silent. Eventually, Sir Leland must have grown tired of his taunts, and without warning, he lunged at Branford.
My husband’s blade neatly blocked the attack, and Sir Leland danced backwards.
“Is that all?” Branford asked bluntly.
Sir Leland came at him again, all taunting forgotten as the sound of their swords striking hard rang through the morning air. I barely had time to draw a breath before they had gone from standing nearly still to an incredible frenzy of metal and flesh against the backdrop of the sandy battle arena.
Sir Leland swung low, and Branford pulled his sword across his body to block it before countering with a quick swipe toward Sir Leland’s head. Branford neatly dodged his opponent’s blade as he turned to the side, and they struck swords with a mighty clang. Again and again, their swords thrust together, pulled apart, parried, and thrust again. There seemed to be no end to it.
As my own panic regarding Branford’s safety heightened, Sir Leland stepped forward, swinging low as Branford jumped over his opponent’s blade and countered with a swing to his head. He missed but came right back again, swinging, dancing easily to the side to avoid another blow and then swinging again. It was then I heard the sharp clang of metal on metal and then the sudden intake of breath as Sir Leland’s foot hit Branford in the stomach, and he went flying backwards, landing a few feet away in the sand. He kept his sword in his hand, and when Sir Leland moved to stab toward Branford’s side, Branford blocked it neatly with the flat edge of his blade. He rolled to his side, righted himself, and lunged at Sir Leland, knocking him off his feet and spinning him to the ground.
From where I stood off to the side, I could see Sir Leland’s hand as he ran it through the sand and filled his palm with the grains. I immediately knew his intent though there was no time to either do or say anything. He took his handful of sand and threw it into Branford’s face as he turned back around. Branford dropped, his hand over his eyes, rubbing at them as he tried to blink and see his opponent while Sir Leland stalked to one side of him. Branford held his sword out in Sir Leland’s direction, still obviously unable to see but listening to the footsteps in the sand.
A small noise escaped from my throat, and Ida’s free hand reached over and grabbed mine. She held both of my hands tightly. I couldn’t look at her—my eyes would not leave Branford. His hand still covered his eyes, swiping at them with near desperate movements to remove the grit as he swung out blindly in Sir Leland’s direction. He could not find his mark.
With a kick into Branford’s face, Sir Leland was suddenly on top of him, and his boot stepped down hard on Branford’s wrist, pinning his sword to the ground. The strain in Branford’s voice was apparent as he tried to free himself and failed.
I heard Sir Leland’s dark laugh—the same one I had heard inside the stables—as he stood over Branford with his sword pointed at Branford’s throat. I pulled my hand from Ida’s grip and took several steps toward the arena before I felt Parnell grab my arm.
“Release me,” I said, though there was little command in my voice.
“Not this time, Lady Alexandra,” he said softly.
I knew he was right though it did not make me want any less to go to my husband. I looked quickly to Parnell. His eyes had moved back to the fight, his worry apparent on his face. I tried to swallow, but my throat was unwilling. I looked back to Branford where he lay on the ground with Sir Leland’s sword so dangerously close to his flesh.
“Maybe you are not quite the man you think you are,” I heard Sir Leland yell out. “Maybe I will have to show your lovely new wife what a man is really—”
Everything occurred so quickly and all at once, it was hard to determine exactly what happened first. I heard what could only be described as a roar coming out of Branford’s mouth. Sir Leland’s malicious grin dropped quickly from his face, and blood began to drip to the ground.
“Dear God,” Parnell muttered under his breath.
Sir Leland’s wide eyes looked at the blade of his sword, which was firmly grasped in Branford’s left hand. Branford twisted it sideways as blood poured over his wrist and arm. He pulled it toward himself and off to one side, dragging Sir Leland off balance as he fell toward Branford’s supine body. Branford’s feet rose up and kicked at Sir Leland’s middle, and the knight toppled to the ground with an audible thud. A moment later, with his bloodied hand still holding the wrong end of his opponent’s sword, Branford was on top of him. Sir Leland tried to grab the hilt of the sword, but Branford grasped the sword in both of his hands as he held the blade across Sir Leland’s throat. Sir Leland could only grip Branford’s wrists to stop the blade from entering his neck.
“Surrender!” I heard Branford yell down at him. “Surrender of your own will now, or I will kill you where you lie.”
Both men were completely still, the only movement from their bodies, the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed heavily. Sir Leland stared up at Branford for a long moment before he released his grip on Branford’s wrists and dropped his head back into the sandy ground.
“I surrender to you, Sir Branford.”
Branford pushed back from the defeated knight and stood up tall, his shoulders rising and falling with his exertion. I watched his left hand as the fingers slowly uncurled from the blade of the sword before Branford tossed it far to the side. He kicked once at the dirt near Sir Leland’s face, tossing dust into the air around his eyes, and then walked backwards a few paces to retrieve his own sword from the ground. He sheathed it as he turned and walked out of the arena.
With his head tilted forward as he trudged away from a battered Sir Leland, I felt as unsure about what to do as I had on our wedding night. Branford’s eyes looked glazed as he stared at the ground, and blood from the gash across his hand continued to fall in drops to the dirt below. Michael approached hesitantly with a strip of cloth, which Branford snatched away from the page and then wrapped it loosely around the wound. He used the back of his other hand to wipe the blood off the cut on his lip.
I desperately wished to throw my arms around him, but I was not sure if that was the proper course of action, and there was no time to ask Ida for advice before he was near us again, telling Michael to get Vanquish back to the stables and prepare both him and Romero for the journey home. Our
eyes met only briefly before he looked away again.
Unable to stop myself, I reached out and brushed my fingers over his mail-clad arm. He looked down at my hand and then back up to my eyes.
“Branford…” I did not know what to say and instead reached to his face and touched his battered lip with my fingertips. He did not flinch but pressed his lips lightly to my fingers.
He seemed about to speak when footsteps came from behind him, and we both turned to look. I tensed as Sir Leland approach but noticed his shoulders were slumped somewhat. His sword was sheathed, and his look was one of chagrin. As he walked past Sir Rylan, he grabbed at Janet and dragged her behind him.
“Here,” Sir Leland said, his free hand still rubbing at his own bloodied face. He took Janet by the shoulders and shoved her in Branford’s direction. “She is all yours.”
“Master?” Janet looked at him, then back to Branford.
“Not anymore,” Sir Leland grumbled.
The girl looked back and forth a few times, confusion clouding her expression. Sir Leland had obviously told her nothing about the possible outcome of the competition. She slowly moved over toward Branford and dropped down to her knees.
“Am I yours now?” she asked quietly.
“Hrmph.” Branford grumbled. He did not look down at her but watched Sir Leland and his entourage as they gathered up their belongings and left the arena. Branford took a long, slow breath and then looked down to the girl at his feet. “I have no need for slaves.”
He turned and walked away from her.
“Master?” she called after him.
“I am not your master,” Branford said, snapping at the girl. “You are free to do as you will.”
“Free?”
“Yes, free,” he said again. “I have acquired you and done with you as I will, and that was to set you free. You may…”—he waved his hand around in the air—“do as you wish.”
Branford walked over toward Vanquish and Michael, and Janet’s gaze met mine.
“What do I do?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Where do I go?”
My mouth opened and closed soundlessly, for I had no words to give her. I shook my head slowly and watched her look over to Sir Leland’s retreating form with longing. I wondered if she would truly consider returning to that horrid man if she had no other options.
Janet walked slowly away from us as I wondered what the answers to her questions would be. Where she would go, and what she would do, indeed? My thoughts all along had been to save her from her abusive master, but what would life bring her next? What would even stop Sir Leland or another equally vile man from taking her again?
After Branford’s wounds were attended to and pronounced to be not as bad as they appeared, Branford gathered up his belongings and began walking back to the castle. It would soon be time to return to Silverhelm, and he seemed to be wasting no time getting ready to leave. I walked quickly to catch up with his long strides and reached for his arm. He stopped and turned toward me.
“Branford, we cannot just leave her here,” I said as he began walking again.
“Why not?”
My eyes widened, and I was surprised by his lack of understanding of her plight.
“Where will she go? What will she do?”
“That is not my concern,” he replied with a short shake of his head.
“She is one of your subjects.”
“Only in the most general way, Alexandra,” he said with a sigh. “She can find work here somewhere if anyone can look past her former status.”
“And what if they cannot? What will she do then?”
Branford stopped walking and put his hands on his hips as he looked to the ground.
“What else is it you think I should do?”
“She could…” I paused. I was almost afraid to utter the words. “She could come back to Silverhelm with us.”
“Absolutely not!”
“Why, Branford?” I asked as I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his arm. “Why can we not find work for her there?”
“I know nothing of her, Alexandra,” he said. “From where does she even hail?”
“We could ask her,” I suggested. “Can we just give her a chance? If you decide she is not what you want, we could at least—”
“For the love of God,” Branford suddenly yelled, and I took a step back, releasing his arm and preparing for the worst. He gripped his hair, and his eyes narrowed and darkened at me. He then let out a heavy breath through his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. “Fine.”
He stomped over toward the stands where Janet still sat, her hands in her lap and her head bowed. Branford approached and stared down at her. She looked up in trepidation and worry.
“My wife is in need of a handmaid,” he said. “Can you perform such duties?”
“Y…y…yes! Yes, sire!” the girl exclaimed.
“Then you may return to Silverhelm with us.”
Janet scrambled off the bench and dropped down to her knees in front of Branford, her hands reaching out for his feet.
“Thank you…thank you, master!”
“I am not your master,” Branford said as he yanked his leg from her reach. “You will not serve me. You will serve my wife. In that respect you are to be her servant and will have to work hard for your wage and boarding. Is that understood?”
“I will…I will still be free?”
“That is what I just told you.”
She looked up at my husband, awestruck and dazed.
“Yes, please, Sir Branford.”
And that was how Janet came to our household.
Chapter 3—Covertly Entice
Our trip back to Castle Silverhelm was largely uneventful. Janet seemed excited and possibly in shock, considering the difference between her life just this morning and the potential for it now. I learned a little about her. She was originally from Seacrest. Her parents had died when she was young, and she had recently turned fifteen years old. She seemed to have endless energy, or perhaps she was having an attack of nerves. She continuously thanked Branford for allowing her to come with us until he grew tired of her and yelled at her to speak no more. Properly chastised, she held her mouth closed and did not speak again during the entire journey.
By the time we reached Silverhelm, it was late in the evening, and I was forced to part from Branford. My monthly cycle had begun, and I was not to have any unsupervised physical contact with males during that time, not even my husband. It was a sacred time for women, and they tended to bond together then. At least this tradition was one with which I was familiar. It was the same in Hadebrand.
Both the king and queen of Silverhelm greeted us when we arrived, and Sunniva quickly assigned Ramona to establish a place for Janet to sleep in the servants’ quarters so Janet could help me prepare my belongings for my stay in isolation.
Branford was obviously distressed and even angry as I gathered, with Janet’s assistance, some of my clothing and moved myself into the Women’s Room for the duration of my monthly time. He took his frustration out on everyone who came near him but especially Janet, snapping at her at every turn until she was practically cowering behind me whenever he moved.
“Branford,” I said softly, trying to convince him with just a look to be calm since we really could not touch each other. It did not appear to work well.
“Can I not have even a moment with you?” Branford moved closer and looked down at me, his eyes desperate and pleading.
“It is not…proper, Branford,” I whispered back. “You know this.”
He growled a curse under his breath and ran his hand through his hair as he stared at the ceiling. He looked back to me for a moment with his brow furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. His gaze flashed to Janet, who still stood in the doorway, and glared with hatred at her very presence—as if my cycles were somehow her doing. Finally he took an extraordinarily deep breath, blew it out forcefully, and stomped out of our rooms.
Janet was visibly
relieved at his departure. I tried to smile and reassure her.
“It can take some time to get used to him,” I said. She nodded silently with her gaze cast to the ground. What had begun as adoration for her savior had quickly turned to fear. I wished I could tell her he was like a toothless, barking dog, but I could not. I knew my Branford’s teeth were quite sharp.
With everything gathered up, Janet and I walked through the morning room and out the door. Branford was in the hallway, speaking to the guard, Dunstan. He pointed toward the Women’s Room.
“Unless she is locked behind that door,” he said, “you are not to let her out of your sight. Colin will relieve you at dusk and you are to relieve him at dawn.”
“Of course, Sir Branford,” Dunstan said with a nod.
“She is never to be alone. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir Branford.”
Branford took a step closer to the young man, standing up to his full height and glaring down at him. His voice was quiet, dark, strained through his clenched teeth, and nothing short of deadly.
“Let me make one more thing perfectly clear,” he snarled. “If I ever, ever catch you looking at her in any inappropriate way, I will make sure you never father children. Do you understand my meaning?”
“Y-yes! Yes, Sir Branford!”
Branford’s gaze flew to mine once more with an intensity I could feel in my backbone. He spoke no more words, but he did not have to do so. I could see in his eyes what he felt, for it was surely echoed in my own. I did not wish to be apart from him at all, and the very idea of not having him with me at night was nearly frightening though I had only been in his company for a handful of days. How strange it was to be so attached to his presence when I did not know of his existence just a fortnight ago.
A late dinner was provided in the Women’s Room for me, Janet, a woman from the kitchens, and two younger women—girls, really, for they could only just be old enough to be included in this room at all. I found out they cared for the garden in the center of Castle Silverhelm.