As soon as I entered, all eyes turned to me, and the room was drenched in complete and total silence.
Not knowing if the quiet was to be expected or not, I continued walking swiftly, but as my eyes met the expressions of some of the people in the room, my stride began to slow as a chilling sense of dread started at my shoulders and cascaded over my body, making me feel heavy, as if I had donned a suit of armor.
Indeed, I was beginning to wish I had.
On the far side of the table, away from the others, was Kimberly with Nelle at her side. They had both changed their dresses and now wore matching cream and rose-colored dresses with high collars and long sleeves. Nothing but the very tops of their necks was exposed.
As soon as I saw them, I knew. I knew before I ever shifted my gaze to Ida’s shocked expression, the look on the face of the King of Silverhelm, the wide-open mouth of his queen, and my husband’s furious eyes.
“Excuse me a moment.” Branford’s dark voice floated over the table and down the hallway to my ears. He stood, tossing whatever had been in his hand down to the table as he shoved his chair back, circled the end of the table, and stalked toward me. I took an involuntary step backwards as he approached and cringed as he reached me, took me roughly by the arm, pulled me down the hallway, and yanked me through the doorway. Once we were in the corridor beyond, Branford turned abruptly, his fingers digging into the flesh of my arm through the sleeve of this obviously inappropriate dress, and hauled me up the stairway toward the private wing of Branford’s family.
“There can only be so many accidents, Alexandra,” he hissed low in my ear. “I don’t know what it is you are trying to accomplish, but we’re going to have to have a little discussion regarding your loyalties.”
And that is when I knew some people truly couldn’t be trusted.
Chapter 2—Profusely Apologize
Branford half walked, half dragged me back to our chambers as my mind whirled. His harsh words under his breath sent shivers down my spine—and not the same kind of shivers I had experienced the night before. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t swallow, and I could barely draw breath. I couldn’t hear every word he said, growling under his breath, but what I did hear chilled my heart.
Scheming.
Traitorous.
Liar.
When we reached the door to our rooms, Branford threw it open and pushed me inside. My body screamed for me to run—either back out the door or at least to the other side of the room—but my mind knew the action would be fruitless. With a push from Branford’s palm on my back, I was jarred against the wall in the morning room.
Before I could turn, I heard Branford’s roar followed by a crashing sound, and I nearly threw myself right out the eastward-facing window. He had lifted one of the couches and thrown it into the wall near the fireplace, breaking off chunks of the wooden legs and causing it to collapse in a heap. I could see his hands grabbing for the small table next to the door right before he flung it toward me. It splintered into pieces against the stone, and I finally found my voice long enough to scream.
“I just want to know how”—Branford snarled as he slowly stalked closer—“how in the world did you do it? How did you get me to pick you? Did Edgar plant nothing but spies in his audience? Tell me!”
He grabbed a large log from the stack near the fire and flung it into the shutters of the window, causing further damage as he marched across the room. He towered over me as I raised my arms up to protect my head and face.
“Please, Branford!” I cried. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”
Branford’s fist slammed into the wall right next to my head, and I screamed again. There was no point in trying to explain—it would have been the same as when the carriage driver had begged for mercy, and there was no one here to stay Branford’s hand. I had no doubt that he was going to kill me.
“Tell me how!” he screamed right next to my head, and I jumped. “And to think I was buying that innocent little servant girl act of yours!”
“No…Branford…I didn’t…I swear…”
“No more lies!” Again, his fist hit the wall next to me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks, but I made no move to stop them. I tried to cover my head with my arms, but Branford grabbed my wrists and held them to my sides. “How did you do it? How did you get past all my senses?”
Before I could even consider trying to either answer his questions or beg for his mercy, a shout from behind him startled me nearly as much as Branford’s own yelling had.
“Branford Sterling!” I heard the Queen of Silverhelm’s voice but couldn’t see her from my position up against the wall. “Get away from her this instant!”
“I don’t think so!” Branford shouted without turning toward the queen.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that was a request, Sir Branford.”
Immediately, the grip on my wrists relaxed. I pulled my arms back up and covered my face with my hands as I tried to turn away from my husband, seeking comfort from the cold, stone wall. I could not turn though, for Branford’s body was still pressed up close to mine, and his rapid breaths blew over the bare skin of my shoulder.
“You hadn’t even shown me this much of you.” Branford’s low whisper burned my ear as his hot, rapid breaths coated my skin and caused me to shiver. My skin went cold as he stepped back, and I dropped to the ground, curling my legs up underneath me and holding my arms protectively over my head. I tried to remember if he was already wearing his sword or if I would have to wait for him to retrieve it before he cut me down. Sunniva’s voice registered in the back of my head, but the meaning of her words didn’t penetrate as I waited for the final blow.
“Have you lost all your reasoning?”
“I’m just seeing the light, Mother.”