They had to feed their families first.
“You may not be in your prime any more, but you are still my trusted friend.” I patted the old stallion’s flank.
Romero shook his head and whinnied.
Amarra walked at my heel as we headed out of the practice field and toward the castle. Like Romero, Amarra was a little slower after this winter, and I wondered if her bones ached as Sunniva claimed hers did in the colder months. The dog certainly preferred being indoors over being outside in the dog run with the rest of the hunting pack. I noticed she now spurned the advances of the male dogs as well and wondered if I should start looking for another pup for breeding this summer.
Many people stopped and bowed their heads to me as we approached the Gathering Place right outside the walls and adjacent to the market. The area was designed completely by my wife and was a place where commoners and nobility alike could sit, work, and play together. There was a large open field for children to play, stone benches nearby where their parents could watch after them, and also fire pits to keep people warm and to use for cooking. The nobles of the court had frowned on the whole concept, but Alexandra did it anyway. Once the area was complete, the commoners came first, but the nobles quickly acquiesced because it was such a nice place to be. I had also thought Alexandra insane when she first mentioned it a year ago, but since then, it had proven a popular place for all families to bring their children. They all played together with little fuss, regardless of their station in life.
I spotted my own children immediately.
In the field, eight-year-old Prince Branford led his new pony around—a gift from Sawyer—for the other children to see, while his young cousin Claire and brother Camden followed after him. Emma, who was the oldest of the group at nearly twelve years, refused to play with the youngsters—preferring to sit with Ida and Alexandra on the benches as they embroidered and spoke of the Sawyer’s hope for a son this time around.
“It is hard to believe with everything else that happened,” Ida said, “that you and Branford end up with three sons while Parnell and I have only daughters!”
“Branford says you are having a boy,” Alexandra said with a smile. “He has always been right about ours.”
“Humph!” Ida huffed. “He always says every baby is going to be a boy!”
“He’s never commented on yours before, though,” Alexandra said. “Perhaps he will be right again.”
Ida seemed to ponder this for a moment and was about to comment when she finally noticed me standing near their bench.
“Branny seems to be enjoying his gift,” I said with a smile. I had long since given up on discouraging the nickname of my eldest son and heir. When one cannot win, one might as well join. “Thank you again.”
“I have three ponies,” Emma pointed out before Ida hushed her.
“Do not speak out of turn.” Ida scolded the child.
“But it is only Uncle Branford,” Emma protested.
“He may be your uncle, but he is also your king. Do not forget that, and always treat him with respect.”
“She said nothing wrong, Ida,” I replied. I leaned over to kiss the forehead of my wife, quickly followed by the month-old baby up on her shoulder—our third son, Liam. I turned to my oldest niece and smiled. “I have seen your ponies. They are almost as fine as the war horses your family raises. Do you ever ride the larger horses?”
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, and the embroidery was quickly forgotten as she went into stories of riding, watching the colts in the spring, and feeding the mares pieces of apple from her hands. We all listened to her tales for a while until Ida informed her it was time to head back home.
Alexandra stood, handed Liam to me, and went to help Ida gather her sewing and the children’s toys into a basket, which fit neatly on top of Ida’s swollen belly. She groaned in protest and rubbed at her back for a moment.
“This one better be a boy,” she mumbled, “because there is no way I am going to do this again!”
Alexandra stifled a laugh. When she glanced up at me, I raised an eyebrow, silently reminding her how miserable she was just last season when Liam was due to be born. Before those last few weeks, I would have sworn my wife never complained about a single thing a day in her life.
Well, except maybe about her husband when he was being an ass. Thankfully that didn’t happen too often these days.
Parnell gathered up his daughters, and we bid my sister’s family goodbye. We would not see them again until after their next child was born since travel was becoming difficult for Ida. Once they were off down the road, Alexandra and I headed back inside to prepare for the night.
Sunniva was waiting for us when we entered, and she fussed over the babe for a few minutes before she tired herself out and had to hand him back to his mother. I worried for my adoptive mother and knew in my heart she had no more than a few seasons left in her. In some ways I was surprised she had lasted so long without Camden at her side. I wondered if I would be able to survive a decade without Alexandra and quickly determined that I would not.
Prince Branford and Prince Camden ran up to their grandmother and hugged her tightly before they were ushered off by Edith to their own bedrooms. Greysen was still out in the barracks with the new recruits and would train them well into the night, so Edith would have a while to get the children to sleep before her husband returned to her. The leader of my army had his work cut out for him even without the threat of war upon us.
While Edith tended to the older children, Alexandra and I took our newborn to our own room and laid him down in his basket near our bed. He was certainly the loudest of all our sons and had not yet learned that those around him needed their sleep on occasion. We had barely had more than a couple hours of sleep at a time since he was born.
Alexandra changed her clothing quickly and crawled into bed. I knew we would soon be able to come together again, but I wondered if she would have the energy if Liam did not begin to sleep longer. Perhaps if I was better about getting up when he woke, she would not be so tired.
After tossing enough logs on the fire to keep away the chill of the night, I slid under the blankets and pulled my wife close to me. Though I would always want more if given my choice, I was also content with holding her against me and running my hand through her hair. Just having her close to me and safe was all that I needed.
I kissed Alexandra’s temple and sighed. Maybe Father Tucker was right after all. Maybe I had paid for my sins, and now I did deserve what I had attained. I strived to be a man, in every sense of the word, who deserved a woman like Alexandra, and though I still made stupid, insensitive mistakes, they were much fewer and further between.
More importantly, they tended to only impact me, and even then, it usually came down to whether or not Alexandra was too angry with me to share my bed. That in itself was deterrent enough to change my behavior, and I was still quite upset to hear that my own sister had suggested such a “punishment” after I had backhanded one of the men for taking too long carving the stone benches for Alexandra’s Gathering Place.
I supposed I deserved it. I rarely let such things get to me now, but the habits of my former years were difficult to break. I tried, and when I failed, Alexandra was there to remind me how important our people were to us.
As if I could forget such a thing.
Tonight she was not upset with me but only exhausted from a long day and frequent sleepless nights. With smooth motions, I gently massaged her shoulders, and she let out a long, cleansing breath as I silently thanked God for everything and nothing in particular.
I touched her forehead with my mouth, and I held her close to me as a small grin refused to leave my lips. Before long, Alexandra’s breathing slowed into a steady rhythm, indicating her slumber. She was peaceful, safe, and loved, which is all I really wanted for her. I understood that now and did my best to meet those goals.
Having my people content, well-fed, and happy gave my wife peace.
Maki
ng sure the kingdom was serene kept her safe.
Holding her close to me as she slept told her she was loved.
Just as she relaxed into me fully, I heard a slight stirring from the edge of the bed and Liam’s cries echoed through the room. Alexandra startled at the sound and then let out a groan.
“I have him,” I whispered into her hair. I slipped out of bed and picked up my youngest son, cradling him against my chest as I brought him back to our bed and laid him between us. Alexandra rolled to her side, and I placed the babe next to her breast. He took the nipple in his mouth and sucked greedily for a minute before he closed his eyes again.
Alexandra curled her arm underneath her head to give Liam the room he needed before she closed her eyes as well. I reached out and placed my hand on her side, effectively wrapping my arm around them both as I smiled at my wife and my newest child. I was quite positive there was nothing in the world more beautiful.
And that is when I knew peace.
~~The End~~
Author’s Notes and Bonus
Wow! What a ride! I hope you enjoyed it! If you wanted a little more time inside of Branford’s head, keep reading! The next chapter is Branford’s account of being injured in the tournament, and his first realization that he was in love with Alexandra. Don’t miss it!
Thank you all for joining me on this journey!
Until next time,
Shay Savage
Bonus Chapter—Fearfully Rage
Trembling, mind-numbing heat accompanied the rage, and as I was lying on my back in the center of the arena, I was instantly transported into the tight, dark box inside the carriage. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear. I could hear the screams, the cries, the muffled voices, and the laughter, but I was incapable of action.
It was like this every time, and it almost seemed my anger had become worse over the years instead of better, as I knew my adoptive mother had hoped that it would. It may be a small thing or a grand thing that triggers it, but once there, I would lose control so quickly I had often acted before I had considered what the action meant.
Such as randomly choosing a wife out of a group of handmaids sitting in a row.
I shoved myself up and out of the sand and began to stalk off the field. I could hear the applause and the condemnation as I walked out of the arena—trying to withdraw as quickly as possible before I broke down completely. Though most in the kingdom knew of my wrath, it would not be best to have such a large number of them witness it. I was not too far gone to remember my place though it was a close call.
I shoved at Michael as he tried to assist me. He, at least, should have known better. He was still young but would eventually be an excellent page and had potential to join my army when he matured. Still, he seemed to have trouble understanding when to back down. I screamed at him to get out of my way and stomped off the arena grounds, through the archway, and toward the gardens and stables.
There was a stone bench off to the side, and I marched over there and threw my helm at the wall beside it. It clanged off the edge and plopped to the seat of the bench, and I dropped myself down next to it. My sword dug painfully into my leg, so I had to struggle to stand up again in my armor, pull the blasted thing out of its scabbard, and drop it to the side as well. My arm and hand ached, but it was not the injury that angered me but the knight who had managed to inflict it.
Sir Leland.
A knight in name only for his actions were in no way bound by the laws of chivalry. I was by no means a perfect man, but he was without character. If he was not of noble blood, his insults and actions would have caused his death long ago—if not by my hand, then by another’s. To be bested by him in a joust…
And in front of my new wife.
Darkness overwhelmed me again, and muffled cries burned into my ears. I could still feel my body, and on some level, I knew I was in Sawyer’s lands just outside his arena, but deeper inside my head, I was inside the carriage bench—impotent and useless. I knew I was shaking, and my body was rocking back and forth where I sat, but I was unable to open my eyes. My throat clenched, and I felt as though I could not breathe even when I could feel the air rushing in heavy pants into my chest. I dropped my head into my hands with my elbows resting on my thighs while I tried to push the memories from my head though it never worked.
I tried grabbing onto my hair and pulling at it, as if I could physically remove the thoughts from my head. Pain shot up my left arm, and I grimaced as I held it out from my body. I tried flexing my fingers a bit, but it still hurt. Unfortunately, it didn’t hurt enough to keep the sounds out of my head.
“Branford! Branford! No! No, please no!”
“Silence!” The voice was all too familiar…my friend…my mentor…
I heard a branch snap, but the sound did not come from my memories. I looked up quickly, ready to tear into whoever dared to draw near me at this time.
God in Heaven…no.
My wife approached.
My beautiful, innocent wife.
Every time I looked at her, I wanted to drop to my knees. I wanted to worship every inch of her body with my hands and my mouth. I wanted to hold her against me and give her anything and everything she could possibly desire. I wanted to run my hands through her thick, lustrous hair and taste the skin of her neck. She had exceeded every expectation I may have had for a wife and brought along with her traits I had not even considered long enough to desire. I had already come to want her at my side at all times and not just in my bed at night. I wanted to be near her—to hear her laugh and speak my name—nearly every waking moment of the day.
But not now.
At this moment, the danger to her was far too great, my anger too unmanageable. I could only barely focus enough to understand where I was and who was approaching me. Had it been anyone else—anyone—and I may not have even bothered to give warning before an attack.
“Get away from me!” I screamed at her…my Alexandra…my beautiful wife...and it pained my heart to speak to her in such a way. But if she did not get away from me and quickly, I did not know what I might do. The thought was enough to bring me just a little further away from the dark, enclosed space in my head.
“I wanted to make sure you are all right,” she said quietly as she continued to walk closer to me.
I most certainly was not, but there was nothing she would be able to do to change that. I just needed to keep her safe—protect her, as I said I would—even if it was from me. I knew she would not understand. Though she might already know me better than those who have been in my presence for years instead of days, she could not understand the state I was in. I did not understand it myself. Those who knew me best knew to stay away. All others had felt my wrath. Not all of those had survived.
“I said, ‘Get away!’” I felt myself rise from the bench and take a step toward her. My hands balled into fists, and a combination of the pain in my injured limb and the look in Alexandra’s eyes held me back. My muscles strained—wanting the fight I could not have as I lay crushed inside a small wooden bench while my parents were slaughtered—and tried to get to anyone…anything…I could possibly grab and destroy.
My mind screamed not to do her harm, but my body did not wish to comply. This fury that would overtake me at times was beyond my control, and I was terrified for her. If I hurt her…even if I could earn her forgiveness, I would never pardon myself. I remembered her eyes back in our rooms at Silverhelm—the terror expressed in them when she thought I would hurt her—and the memory reined me in, if only somewhat.
“Give me your hand,” she said softly and calmly, as if she was completely ignorant of the madman in her midst. My teeth clenched, and I wanted to scream at her again—maybe even frighten her enough to cause her to run. It would have been better than some of the alternatives.
“You need to leave,” I told her, silently begging her to believe me and get herself to safety. “Now.”
“I am not leaving until you let me look at it!”
/> Her words belted me across the face—each one another blow to my skin. I was completely taken aback by her outburst and tone, for I had never heard her raise her voice in such a way before. Always when she had spoken to me—even when I was at my worst and deserving of her wrath—her voice had been soft and demure. It was never sharp or forceful.
“Please.” Her soft voice floated on the air between us as she slowly walked closer to me, either ignoring the obvious danger or oblivious to it. “Let me make sure you are all right.”
I stared at her a moment as my mind reeled and tried to reconcile my apparently diffident wife with the stubborn woman in front of me, ignoring her own safety to verify my injuries were not grave. I was going to have to convince her I was fine, or she was not going to leave me be. I snarled under my breath and dropped back down on the bench with a loud clang. I ran my hand through my dampened hair again and growled at her in an attempt to persuade her to go.
“It is nothing. It is not even my sword arm. Go back to the stands. I do not wish to speak with you or anyone else!”
Paying my words no heed, she came to stand beside me for a moment before dropping to her knees on the dirty ground. Her beautiful dress splayed out around her, undoubtedly getting covered in mud. My mind flashed to women I had known from the court, and I wondered if any of them could have found any reason valid enough to cause them to smudge their dainty clothing.
As she dropped to the ground, she reached for my injured hand. I pulled back instinctively, but she did not back down. Eventually I let her take it, trying not to flinch too much as her adept fingers examined my bruised skin.
Her touch felt so…strange to me. As her fingers glided over my fingers and wrist, everything else in my head slowly faded away until all I seemed able to experience was the feeling of her skin on mine. The darkness gave way, and the tight feeling in my chest released. I even felt my body sink slowly down against the cool stone bench as my muscles relaxed and let loose.