“Forgive me, King Edgar.” Sir Branford spoke in his fluid voice. All the anger he had been projecting only moments ago had completely vanished. “You offered the hand of any eligible female. If you had intended for me to wed the princess, perhaps you should have offered me her hand. I'm afraid now that Alexandra has accepted my proposal, it would not be chivalrous of me to renege.”
“I haven't heard her response,” King Edgar snarled, looking straight at me. I quickly dropped my gaze.
“Are you doubting my word?” Sir Branford's tone was suddenly quite cold.
“I'm doubting your sanity,” Princess Whitney piped up. “You come all this way for tournament and return to your own lands with a…a…a handmaid?”
“I will give you another chance, Sir Branford,” King Edgar said, effectively silencing his daughter. “We will pass off your stunt on the field as just that—a stunt. Take my daughter's hand, and we will set this right.”
“Forgive me, King Edgar,” Sir Branford said, “but I will not be marrying your daughter. I have already stated a reason.”
“It's not good enough.” King Edgar snarled through his teeth. “You will set this right and do so now.”
Branford raised himself up to his full height and looked down on the King.
“I will not marry the Princess Whitney,” he stated.
“And why not?” the infuriated king shouted.
“Because she is not a virgin,” Sir Branford said simply.
For a long moment, there was silence in the stable. My stomach felt as if it were twisting inside of my body as I looked into the stunned face of the princess.
“How dare you!” King Edgar stepped forward, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword.
“Let her be tested, then!” Sir Branford took a step forward, meeting the king’s challenge. I did my best to remain behind him, but he did not release my hand from his arm and kept pulling me to his side. “If she's shown to be innocent, then I will marry her on the spot!”
“You bastard.” Princess Whitney’s voice was low and full of venom. “You dare to insult me in front of my own—”
“Princess Whitney,” Sir Branford replied, “I merely spoke the truth. Are you prepared to have the nuns at the abbey test your purity?”
“Enough!” she screamed at him. “Let him have the wench! I wouldn't consent to marry him anyway!”
Princess Whitney stormed away from her father with the other handmaids following quickly behind her. I started to follow, both reflexively and because I was unsure of what else to do, when Branford caught my arm and held me to his side.
“You no longer serve her,” he said into my ear. He then turned back to the king. “Alexandra will need two servants to prepare her. We will be married in the abbey tomorrow.”
“She has no family,” King Edgar stated. “There is no one to provide dowry.”
I dropped my gaze to the ground. I was beginning to see quite clearly that King Edgar was going to find a way out of this position, and I would return to an angry and humiliated Princess Whitney. She could be vicious and cruel—I had seen it many times though it had never been directed at me. I should have thought through what I was saying when I agreed to marry Sir Branford. I must have had a lapse of sanity. How could I ever think something so implausible would happen to me?
“Dowry is not required,” Sir Branford stated. “She is my prize. Now if you are done trying to weasel your way out of the reward you promised in front of your kingdom, I have some wedding plans to make.”
Branford turned away from King Edgar without a proper goodbye and pulled me behind him by the hand. The other knight, who had remained silent throughout the encounter with the king, followed closely behind us.
“I don’t want to waste any time,” Sir Branford said to the knight. “I’ll not have King Edgar come up with another dozen reasons why this cannot be done. We ride to the abbey immediately and entrust my fiancée to the nuns there until tomorrow. We’ll have the wedding at sunset.”
“Ida is going to kill you,” the other knight said quietly and without emotion.
“That is entirely possible,” Sir Branford said with a nod, “but my sister’s ire is not enough to discourage me from my wedding.”
He glanced down at me and offered that same crooked half smile. Once again, he reached out and captured my fingers, slowly bringing them up to his mouth. As his lips touched the skin of my fingers, I felt my cheeks flame.
“Lovely,” he murmured softly.
And that is how I found myself engaged.
Chapter 2—Warily Celebrate