Page 120 of Stardust Child

“Lord Hurrell’s mother died before they came to Aldeburke.” Her shoulders hunched. “And Lady Hurrell’s family lost their holdings in the Conspiracy. I don’t think she spoke to them anymore.”

“Would she have gone to them, after you left?” Juste asked, and she shook her head.

“No. I don’t think they had much. She always said how glad she was to go to the capital.”

They would have to learn more about Lady Bette Hurrell’s time in Segoile. It would not be easy; so many families had fallen in the Conspiracy, there was some information that was simply not available.

“But there is something else,” Juste said, cocking his head. “Messengers to Aldeburke? Some other contacts?”

He already knew of at least one:someoneat Aldeburke had been in contact with the Emperor, and not through his official couriers. But there wasn’t the least sign in Ophele’s open, innocent face that she knew anything about that.

“There were some people that came to Aldeburke sometimes,” she offered. “But I don’t know who they were…”

There were a few names she remembered, but Juste recognized none of them. She would have been a child in any case, with a child’s understanding of those strange grown-up gatherings. But the mere fact of their coming was interesting by itself. No respectable House would dare to defy the Emperor’s order of exile, when the penalty was so severe and the reward was House Hurrell, destitute and friendless. And as Ophele described them, it became clear that the gatherings had been at Lady Hurrell’s instigation, rather than the lord’s, and began several years after the death of Ophele’s mother.

“I don’t remember when the guards left,” Ophele said, her brows furrowing. “There was one guard I liked, he used to play with me andcalled melittle starling.He said he was sorry they had to leave, and they had been called away, but he never said why.”

“Perhaps to hide you better,” Justenin mused. “A guard corps in a place like Aldeburke would attract unwanted attention.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, but she did not meet his eyes.

Indeed, the more he questioned her, the more evasive she became. Oh, she answered his questions willingly enough, but anything about her childhood or the Hurrell family was vague, and all irregularities excused by her exile. As if an eight year-old child had decided all on her own to live in a library and forage in the forest for food.

Juste caught Edemir’s gaze, a silent instruction for him to take over, and sat back to listen. It didn’t take long to start poking holes.

“You said,Lisabe’stutor,” he noted, a few minutes later. “Did you have no tutor of your own, my lady?”

The way she blanched was as good as a confession.

“N-not of my own,” she stammered, and it was telling that her eyes went to Leonin, her cheeks reddening. “I was younger than Lisabe, so her teacher came first…I think in spring? After the guards left?”

It was a good excuse. Likely true, too, if only because Ophele was an absolutely abysmal liar. Juste let her talk a little while longer, noting the places where she hesitated, where she deflected the question, and where she glanced at Leonin and changed the subject, or rephrased Edemir’s questions into something she was more willing to answer. He might have confronted her directly, and ended this little dance, but Juste was learning a great deal about his duchess this afternoon, who was much cleverer than even he had suspected.

“Leonin. Davi. Perhaps you will guard the other side of the door,” he said, rising with the excuse of pouring more tea. “Will you have a cup, my lady?”

“Yes. Thank you,” she said, so miserably that he added a dollop of honey to her cup as an apology for the interrogation.

“Your office will be unbearable in another month, Edemir,” he said conversationally as Leonin and Davi exited, shutting the door. His eyes went back to Ophele. “I will not press you for confidences, my lady, but it is important that we understand the nature of your relationship with House Hurrell, so we may guess what might come next. Did Lady Hurrell ever give a reason why you had no teachers?”

“No,” Ophele said reluctantly. “I guess—I thought it was because it would cost money. And my mother had already cost them everything.”

“So it was vindictiveness?” Juste’s voice was quiet, outwardly calm. “Punishing you for your mother’s crimes?”

“Yes,” she whispered, a whole story laid bare in a single, wavering syllable. Well, Juste had suspected as much.

“It is likewise curious that she retained some ambitions for Lady Lisabe,” he observed, choosing to leave that line of questioning alone. “A tutor and a dancing master? I don’t suppose you were allowed to attend lessons.”

“No.”

“And yet, Lady Hurrell bore the risk and expense of summoning them to her place of exile,” Juste said, prompting her to ask the question.

“Yes? She did,” Ophele replied, her brows furrowing. “I thought…I thought it was what a lady should have. But it would have been a risk, wouldn’t it? For them, and for her, since we were banished.”

“Unless she believed she would not be punished,” Juste agreed. “Perhaps there was some other game she played. A scheme that ended badly, which forced them to flee? Or perhaps there came a summons, once her task was done.”

Her eyes lifted to his, stricken.

“But she was exiled,” Ophele managed. “Her task—you meanme?You think my father summoned them?”

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