The room was unnaturally dark for midday. Heavy curtains stayed drawn, smothering daylight. The fireplace had been left unattended; it now sat cold and neglected, and of the few candles lit, most had already burned out.
Brand stepped into the king's study and his gaze immediately found Alexander, seated away from his table, staring into a snifter of whiskey, as though it were a crystal ball relaying messages to him, or some prophecy only he could decipher. With an easy raise of his hand, he commanded Edmund to remain before striding in to meet his brother. Behind him, Edmund silently closed the door.
"You sent for me." It was no more a whisper.
Alexander's eyes snapped up to him, then briefly to the door, and he set the snifter down. "I wish to spar." He declared, rising, "Fight with me, brother."
Brand's brows knit together. "You commanded my presence that I might cross swords with you?" his gaze flickered to the abandoned glass. He had been drinking. Was he almost lost to the brief freedom of wine?
Alexander had been a fine drunk—an indulgent one—who was lost on countless occasions to his cups, yet never so much that he failed in his duties. He took every moment there was to indulge, taking even moments that did not demand for it. Until he had met Lady Gwen. She had unknowingly taken his interest and fondness for his cups and set them upon herself.
But perhaps not enough.
"Set your eyes from my glass," Alexander suddenly said. Brand's eyes shifted back to him. "I have not indulged in it. I had been contemplating it, though," he gestured to the snifter, "or a spar. Had you arrived any later, the contemplation would have ended." He inhaled deeply. "But now you are here, which is a goodness as I'd rather set my anger free with a sword."
Brand's right eye blinked. "What has set you in such a destructive mood?"
Silence.
After a long pause, "Your faithful man told me that you have been foul-tempered since the visit of Brundrett and Michaelson." Alexander made a harsh sound. Brand continued. "What madness did their visit invoke?"
"They spoke of Adamson." He said bitterly. "Did they think I had no knowledge of it? That I was ignorant of her truth?"
Brand easily planted himself in one of the sofas. "I suppose news flies about of her true heritage."
"Why should I care?" his brother asked, his tone dismissive. "I do not care for the mindless words of idle lords, grown fat on meat and gossip. She is Guinevere Williams now, my wife, and that is all to it. That is all that matters."
Brand exhaled, staring.
Lady Gwen, once as Lady Fitzgerald, had indeed been Lady Adamson at birth. When her father was executed for treason, the Fitzgeralds had taken her in and raised her as their own. A truth bathed in fear that kept her and Alexander apart, rather than the lack of affection. She had dreaded that Alexander would despise her when he would discover her true heritage, when in fact, Alexander had known for the longest of time.
"She has never been an Adamson, not once. Not even as a baby," Alexander continued, "and the crime of Adamson never belonged to her."
"Perhaps, you should reaffirm this to the prying lords."
His brother accorded him a mean glare, his eyes burning with anger. "I did. If they should ever speak rudely of their queen, they shall find their bodies without heads," his lips pulled with a wicked smirk "Or their sons without inheritance." He added darkly.
Brand's eyebrows rode high. They were indeed brothers, fated to suffer matters of betrayal from those about them, while secretly rejoicing at the punishment awaited to the meted. Brundrett and Michaelson had the greatest of thoughts for the country, it would be rather unfair to have them suffer for their faithfulness, or his brother suffer in the act of defence.
He crossed his legs, remarking dryly. "History would appoint you as the beheading king."
"I do not care." Alexander harrumphed, dropping heavily into the chair beside Brand's. He made a dismissive sound. "Perhaps I should make true my word."
Was his brother mad? He certainly seemed to be maddened with the commanding cloud that was love. "It will be of no consequence."
"It will fulfill my wrath."
"And in turn, grieve Lady Gwen." Brand said, blinking deliberately.
Alexander exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. Then, he ran his hand through his short hair. "Do you suppose she has heard any of the gossip?"
If the lords had told their wives, then surely the gossip would reign supreme. There was no doubt. The king had no fear of gossip, only that it would hurt his beloved wife.
"We should pray not." He said.
Alexander made another harsh sound. It was sad.
Good thoughts be damned, if Michaelson was to continue toiling his current path, perhaps history might indeed remember his brother as the king who took heads in court, even though he was more than that.
Above his threat of beheading and dismemberment, he would be written surely in history as the king who valued love and family above all else. A king who had laboured tirelessly to bring peace and prosperity to his kingdom, even from a young age.
"And they dared to branch the topic of our children—or lack thereof," Alexander breathed out, murmuring into the silence. He lightly punched the armrest of his chair. "Are they eager to send me to my death? My lineage is strong, with or without heirs beyond Guinevere and you. Whether I am to father children, or not, it matters nothing to Michaelson or any of the other lords."
Brand sat still, silently watching the other man.
Has a new form of madness overcome Michaelson? Who would dare speak of the queen as they wished, knowing how fiercely protective of her the king was?
He tolerated no discussion on the matter, not from lords, nor nobles, not even from Lady Gwen, knowing how much she would be hurt. They had taken a long time to find each other, and having fought hardship and multiple rejections to find happiness, his brother would not allow anyone to steal his joy, or cast a shadow over it. He would not stand for the notion. He was that selfish.
Brand sighed. "Where is Lady Gwen now?"
Alexander rubbed his temple again. "She is away from the castle, attending a flower arrangement luncheon at the McCornick's estate. It is an additional charity effort for the foundation." When Brand made a face, Alexander smirked, adding, "It is something she does."
It certainly was. "And her business with Cossington?"
"Well underway." His jaw tightened and he knocked his fist three times against his armrest. "I do not allow much discussion in that line."
Brand stared at his brother, his gaze lingering. Alexander's jaw continued to harden, and his glance gained fierceness with each passing moment. He wondered of the stirrings within him at the thought of Lady Gwen in close counsel with Cossington. He had never claimed to understand the inner chambers of his heart, but if his maddened love for Lady Gwen could bring happiness, then jealousy, which was the most corrosive of sentiments, had found a hold upon the king as well.
"Come, there is something I'd like you to look into."
Brand sighed but rose as Alexander did, returning to the table. And they wondered why he preferred the seas. It was not the true reason, but there, no one dared reprove his authority.
"I do not know why I put up with this," he muttered under his breath.
"You put up with it, because except for Guinevere and I, no one else would tell you the truth," he said, rummaging through a mighty pile of parchments. "Why I put up with you, on the other hand, is a mystery even to me. I am neither lonely nor favoured by you."
"I wonder though why you put up with the queen's business with Cossington." He ventured.
Alexander's smile wavered. "She is the queen and may do as she pleases." He paused, "Besides, keeping busy sets her heart at peace, and I will not have you deny her that." He pulled out a parchment and studied it.
Brand turned to his brother. "You hope to distract her from the matter of becoming with child?" Or not becoming with one? He added to himself.
Alexander paused, his shoulders becoming tense. He held out the parchment. It was a financial statement. "This is why I refuse to further do business with the Chinese. Study it and understand, so you can give them a lasting answer, or continuous rejection, if they prove too stubborn."
Brand bowed slightly, folding the parchment and tucking it away. He still was curious. "Alexander?"
"Yes?" Alexander replied. He had turned his back, searching now through the shelves.
"Would you care if Lady Gwen never bore a child?" he asked bluntly.