When I woke to the dim light of daybreak, the nuns informed me I had visitors.
Both Hadley and Edith had been allowed to leave Princess Whitney long enough to be brought to the abbey to help bathe me and adorn me in the most beautiful white dress I had ever seen. It wasn’t overly fancy like a real lady or princess might have worn for her wedding, but I thought it was beautiful. It was by far the most extravagant thing I had ever worn. It was soft and covered in fine lace with a train flowing out in the back. There was a sheer veil, which Hadley affixed to my hair and pulled down over my face. When Hadley pulled a looking glass over, I could hardly believe it was me looking back in the mirror. Edith also helped Hadley dress in a gold gown with black trim as my maiden of honor, the colors a tribute to Sir Branford’s banner.
Everything happened so fast, my head was still spinning when I found myself at the end of a long aisle, walking along a blue carpet toward the altar inside the chapel at Saint Anthony’s Abbey. King Edgar was there beside Queen Margaret. I also recognized Lords Maxton and Clifford and spied Princess Whitney’s other handmaids. Princess Whitney was also in attendance, her dark eyes glaring at me. She sat between her young sister, Hedda, and her older brother, Gage. There were also perhaps six dozen lords and ladies of the kingdom in attendance, and they were all watching me as my cheeks flamed, and I looked down at my feet. When I finally gathered enough courage to look up again, I could see Sir Branford Sterling, my soon-to-be husband, at the end of the aisle, standing next to the knight who had argued with him in the stable.
Since I had no living family, Father Charles held my arm and walked me down the aisle to the altar, where he placed my hand in Sir Branford’s before starting the ceremony. My head was so full of confusion, I didn’t even hear Father Charles’s initial words, nor did I hear Sir Branford’s response. Father Charles nodded at me, and I lowered my eyes to my satin shoes. I had never worn such finery before this day, and being dressed in such amidst all these nobles was quite frightening. I kept waiting for someone to realize who I was and tell me to leave the room. I could feel the palms of my hands moisten with my nervousness, and I was sure Sir Branford would feel it as well.
Standing immobile, I was somewhat aware of Sir Branford repeating the vows of marriage as dictated by the scriptures of his God. The words were not familiar to me though I echoed the priest’s words as he told me to do, hardly able to hear my own voice.
“Alexandra Fay”—Father Charles’s voice boomed, bringing me out of the near trance I had been in since yesterday afternoon—“do you take Sir Branford Sterling, son of Branford, Champion of the Golden Dragon, Champion of the Painted Arrow, Champion of Saint Anthony Arena, Champion of the Grand Tournament, Duke of Peaks, Lord of Sterling, nephew to King Camden of Silverhelm, and heir to the throne of Silverhelm, for your husband?”
My throat tightened, and I found I could not swallow nor find enough wind to speak the words I was supposed to recite. All those titles! I didn’t even know what most of them meant. I had no titles and found myself wondering how I was going to be announced. Handmaid to the Princess Whitney? Sole survivor of the Fay household? I heard King Edgar’s quiet scoff in my direction, and I forced some semblance of sound from my throat, questioning the words even as I spoke them.
“I will.”
“And will you, Sir Branford Sterling, son of Branford, Champion of the Golden Dragon, Champion of the Painted Arrow, Champion of Saint Anthony Arena, Champion of the Grand Tournament, Duke of Peaks, Lord of Sterling, nephew to King Camden of Silverhelm, and heir to the throne of Silverhelm, take Alexandra Fay to be your wife?”
Alexandra Fay. Of course that is how I would be introduced, for I had no title to announce.
“I will,” he said simply.
I felt his hand grip mine ever so slightly, his thumb rubbing lightly over the back of my fingers before he reached for my left hand and brought it up. He took a simple gold band from the man beside him and slipped it over the third finger of my left hand.
“In front of God and these witnesses, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Kiss?
Branford turned me toward him and reached for the front of the sheer veil covering my face. He pulled the veil up and laid it over the top of my head, cascading the lace down my back. His gaze met mine, and he cupped my cheek with his hand. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and I wondered if
I would be the first bride to faint in front of the altar. I only realized my teeth were biting into my lower lip when his thumb ran across my chin and pulled until my lower lip was released. He gave me another half smile and leaned in slowly, pausing barely an inch away from my mouth and locking the gaze of his piercing green eyes with mine for a moment. His eyes fluttered closed, and the warmth from his mouth covered my lips.
It was brief. It was chaste. And it completely took my breath away.
His fingers stroked my cheek, and I realized I was gawking up at him but couldn’t make myself stop.
“Be sure to breathe, Alexandra,” he said softly so only I would hear.
He took my hand again and turned us both to face the group of witnesses for a moment before linking my arm around his and walking me back down the aisle, out of the chapel, and into the fading sunlight. It was then I noticed the glint of the sun in his ebony, silken hair, and panic overtook me again.
I had just married this man, and I hadn’t even known the color of his hair.
“Alexandra,” I heard him whisper near my ear, “are you well?”
“I’m fine, my lord,” I answered automatically. I didn’t want him to know how afraid I was.
“You’re trembling,” he responded, obviously seeing through my thin façade.
“I might be a little nervous,” I said. His soft laughter filled my ears.
“I believe that’s customary for brides.” He reached for my face again and ran his thumb over my cheekbone. He spoke to me softly and intently. “Do not fear, my wife. You will always be safe with me.”
Hadley appeared behind us, holding the arm of Sir Branford’s best man.
“Alexandra,” Sir Branford said, turning me to face the other couple, “I apologize for neglecting this earlier, but may I please introduce my distant cousin, Sir Parnell, son of Lord Sawyer, Champion of the Iron Horse Tournament, and betrothed of my sister, the Lady Ida of Sterling, Duchess of Peaks?”
Sir Parnell bent at the waist, and I felt heat cover my face that such a man would bow to me.
“Sir Parnell, may I introduce my wife, Alexandra.”