Page 29 of Traitor Son

“Under the stars and before all here assembled, I, Sir Tounot of Belleme, swear my fealty and homage to the House of Andelin and its new lady, Her Grace Ophele, Princess of Argence, and now the Duchess of Andelin.” Only a born nobleman could have so effortlessly ordered and recited her titles, and in the Empire, a woman’s principal title devolved from her husband’s. “I will defend the safety and honor of my lady even at the cost of my own life, and further offer the fealty of all my heirs, so long as House Andelin endures. Should I violate this oath, or fail in this trust, let my life be forfeit.”

Ophele knew the proper steps of this ceremony. She had read it dozens of times in various books, sometimes in excruciating detail. At this point, she should take his hands—as if he needed her help to get up—and offer him the sword he had laid at her feet. But the duke had firmly vetoed the idea of her standing to accept the oaths of forty-some men, handling swords, or even allowing her to rise just for the amount of time it would take for the formal clasping of hands.

Ever since she had failed to tell him she was hurt the morning they left Celderline, he had been so determined to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Like a bear, she thought as she looked up at his forbidding face, big and black andgrumblingin a way that was almost…sweet. It made her feel both guilty and grateful.

“Speak up,” the duke reminded her now, and she sat up straight, trying to forget all the men watching from the other side of the fires. At least she didn’t have to think of what to say. She had read these words countless times.

“In return, I swear to guard my honor with sincerity, so that I never bring shame to my House, my Lord, or his retainers,” she replied. “And to be careful of my own safety, to honor the sacrifices of my defenders. Please rise, Sir Tounot of Belleme. I accept your sword.”

It was sobering to look into a man’s face and listen to him tell her that he was willing to die to protect her. What had she ever done to deserve that? And more to the point, considering what her mother had done to the man looming at her back, Ophele knew exactly how unworthy she really was.

But there was nothing for it. She was the duke’s wife now, joined inseparably to him unto death and beyond, and her honor was now the honor of his House. The only thing she could do was treat her own life and honor carefully, so as not to betray these men further. And hope that they never ever found out what Lady Rache Pavot had done.

“Sir Justenin,” said the next knight, a lean man with sandy hair and a scar bisecting his left eyebrow. “I joined His Grace’s army as soon as the Emperor gave him command of the forces of the Andelin.”

He gave no place name or family name. Was it because his parents died along with the rest of the duke’s extinct House? She supposed that the children of some of their servants and retainers had escaped, and then gone on to serve Remin, the last son of their vanished House, because of the same oath Sir Tounot had just sworn.The loyalty of my heirs.These men were promising not just their own service, but the loyalty and service of their progeny.

She would have to think about that later. The duke’s big hand pressed lightly against her back and she straightened again, searching for something to say.

“I…I never thought about the service all of you have already given His Grace,” she began hesitantly, looking from Sir Justenin to the rest of the assembled knights. “I will do my best to learn from your example. Thank you for serving him so well, all these years.”

She thought that was a good thing to say. Sir Justenin bowed his head and repeated the same oath Sir Tounot had given, and so the night wore on. Conscious of the solemnity of the oaths they were taking—and the long wait as the men shuffled forward to take their turn kneeling before her—Ophele tried hard to pay attention, and say her own words each time with the same sincerity she had said them the first time.

“You did well,” the duke said when it was over, escorting her to one of the fires, which had burned low over the course of the ceremony. “Do you want more tea?”

She nodded, too tired to pretend she didn’t. The second day of riding hadn’t been as painful as the first, but the duke had still dosed her with more wine in the morning and she felt dull and achy from her head to her toes. She only dimly remembered getting on the horse after the noon meal yesterday, and things had been blurry until she woke up for supper today.

“Here,” he said, handing her more bread and cheese. At night they usually had a hot meal as well, a sort of stew made with dried beef and root vegetables that were hard as stones after passing the winter in the bottom of a sack, but it would be some time before that was ready. A tin kettle was already on the fire, steaming its way to a boil.

“Thank you.” To her surprise, he sat down beside her and stretched out his long legs, ripping into a chunk of crusty brown bread with his fingers. Uneasily, she watched him through her eyelashes. Before, he had given her food like he was putting down hay for his horse and then left to talk to his men, but lately he had been staying to talk with her.

“We’ll be stopping in Granholme tomorrow,” he said. “It’s a small town, nothing like Celderline, but there’s a market and a few shops. If there’s anything you need, we can buy it.”

“I’m f—” she began automatically.

“We will be buying more dresses for you,” he interrupted, looking down at her with narrowed eyes. “And whatever other things women need. You’re my wife, you’ll have clothes that fit. The Knights of the Brede want a lady they can be proud of.”

Oh. She looked down at her lap. She knew she wasn’t a princess anyone would admire, but she hadn’t thought that implicit in all the oaths she had taken tonight was the promise that she would try to be, that she owed it to the people in her service to try to make them proud of her.

“All right,” she agreed quietly.

He sighed.

“You mumble,” he told her. “Speak up. And you mistake my meaning. I don’t know anything about the things women need. But I want my wife to be as comfortable and well-dressed as any other noblewoman.”

“The maids at Aldeburke had four new dresses twice a year,” she offered hesitantly, watching him from the corner of her eye.

“I would hope I could do at least that much.” His eyebrows lowered ominously. “How many dresses does the Lady Lisabe have?”

“Oh, I don’t need that many,” she said, her eyes wide at the very idea. “Gowns are so expens—”

“How many?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “A lady dresses for afternoon and for supper, and then there are kirtles and chemises and stockings and br—other things.” The Duke of Andelin could not be the least bit interested in women’s fashions. “I don’t need that much.”

“Well, it will be a long time before we go back to the capital, and there aren’t likely to be any balls in Andelin for a while either,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t see a point in buying finery you won’t have reason to wear. But I won’t have my wife dressing like a maid. If you need something, tell me.”

She nodded solemnly, and he looked at her hard.

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