Page 16 of Stardust Child

Remin gave her a sharp glance as he went to fetch his horse. His saddle was already waiting in its usual place, the leather carefully cleaned. He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he push this point, to make her wary? Overnight she seemed to have convinced herself that no one in Tresingale was capable of doing such a thing, and while he could have absolutely provided evidence to the contrary, he didn’t really want to. What if it made her more timid? It had only been a few months since he had finally coaxed her to speak to him.

“I am not persuaded,” he said, electing to let the issue lie for now. “I’m not going to order Edemir to blindly obey you, wife.”

“I…don’t want that,” Ophele said slowly, her delicate eyebrows drawing together.

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t want to bother you when you’re busy,” she said, with enough emphasis that Remin looked at her in surprise. It didn’t sound like a capital crime to him.

“I don’t mind,” he said, swinging atop his horse and offering a hand to pull her into the saddle before him. “I don’t think you’re a bother, wife.”

“I mind.” She settled into the crook of his shoulder. Out in the open morning air and with everyone else hurrying about their business, Remin wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing their conversation. “It was embarrassing,” she went on, low. “They all made such a fuss, and I didn’t understand why. I wasn’t hurt. And they wouldn’t evenlistenwhen I said I was fine, and they made you come all the way back home, as if…as if I were a little girl who wanted her nanny.”

This was the closest to angry he had ever heard his gentle wife, and Remin thought about it as they headed south on the road, his horse’s hooves clacking on the cobblestones. They had no particular destination. These morning rides were one of his favorite parts of the day, a perfect time for this kind of conversation.

“I want to know,” he said finally. “If something happens to you. I want my knights to tell me right away. But…”

Maybe they had all overreacted. Remin’s knights had been away to war as long as he had, with similarly limited contact with women, and Ophele was a particularly petite and lovely specimen that roused everyprotective instinct they had. Edemir’s message had been pungent and delivered by a secretary who had galloped to the barracks as if his horse’s tail was on fire, and Remin had bolted home in a black fury, expecting to find Ophele terrified and sobbing, if not something worse.

“It wouldn’t have been bad, if it was just a message,” she offered.

“Then I have to be able to trust you to tell me when you really need me,” he said, looking at her seriously. “No telling me you’re fine if you’re not. If I come home to find you’ve been hurt, or something happened, then I will be very angry.”

“I will. And you have to tell me too, if something happens,” she replied, with a mutinous and adorable pout to her lower lip that made Remin want to agree to absolutely anything she asked.

“All right,” he said, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Since there was no one nearby, he slowed his horse to a walk and bent to kiss those pouting lips, wondering if all men were such fools.

It was a fair distinction to draw for Edemir later that morning, and Remin forced himself to let Ophele make it, when his natural instinct would have been to leave her at the cottage and have a word with his knight himself. Especially when Ophele was red-faced and obviously embarrassed, after yesterday. But Remin thought there was some justice to her complaints about being treated like a child, and he had learned this lesson already, with his squires and soldiers. He couldn’t do this for her. If she wanted his men to respect and obey her, Ophele would have to learn to assert herself.

“I understand why you didn’t want to…explain yesterday,” she began, standing before Edemir in the hallway outside the offices, where at least there were no witnesses. Behind her, Remin avoided Edemir’s eyes to make it clear that he wanted Edemir to deal directly with her. “But if I say not to trouble His Grace, please don’t. We can send a message,” she added, looking up at Edemir. Her fingers knotted together nervously. “Is that fair?”

“Yes, my lady.” Edemir gave her a bow. “I would have been neglecting my duty, if I hadn’t sent a message yesterday. I’m sorry if it distressed you.”

“I understand why you did,” she said, with an odd note in her voice. “But I don’t want to interrupt him unless it’s really necessary. Or any of you,” she added honestly. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Yes, my lady.” That won a smile from the stolid knight. “Though I hope it won’t often be necessary. Are you here for the rest of the day?”

“Yes, except for an hour with Jacot. His Grace said you wanted my help?” she asked, following him into the office as he beckoned her on. This surprise was a few days ahead of schedule, but Remin trailed after her in great anticipation.

“Yes. Rem told me about Master Didion’s request for information about the devils, and there are other reasons why we need to make a study of them,” Edemir explained, wending his way through the worktables to a small space at the back of the room. “Do you remember what I told you about the structure of knowledge?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes widening as they came to stop by an Ophele-sized worktable and chair, set by a narrow window. “Thesis and components? About the devils? Is this for me?”

“Yes,” Remin said, unable to restrain himself any longer. “You’ll be working here in the afternoons, and you can interview my knights and soldiers, around the other duties Edemir assigns. You can ask all the questions you like, lit…wife.”

The pet name almost slipped out, and her smile was so bright, he felt the back of his neck redden and had to avoid Edemir’s eyes for quite a different reason. He had been pleased to have a project like this for her, though it did hurt his pride that the best he could offer was a table and chair in the corner of a warehouse. One day, he would give her an office of her own, with wide windows and wood paneling and carpets of Bhumi silk. An entire library for her reference. With twin pages in livery to carry golden inkpots for her, if that was what she wanted.

But Ophele looked as pleased as if the golden inkpots were already hers, and Remin was glad to be able to tell her honestly that this wasn’t makework. Edemir wanted her on hand to help with the accounts, and Remin greatly preferred to haveherinterviewing his men than a passel of nosy academics from the Tower, to borrow Miche’s turn of phrase.

“Would you like to begin by interviewing me, my lady?” Edemir asked, with an air of resignation. Having spoken often with Ophele over supper, he knew exactly how bottomless this well of questions could be.

“No, not yet, please,” she said, gentle but decided. “I need to think first. Could I have some paper?”

That was a good time for Remin to say good-bye, while Edemir went off to fetch her some, and he shifted to block her with his body so he could take her hand unobserved.

“Try to get good descriptions of the wolf demons first, for Sousten,” he said. “You can borrow one of his secretaries for sketching. And keep your interviews to an hour or so, men start losing focus if you question them longer than that.”

“I will,” she said, nodding as if she were engraving the words on the inside of her skull. “Remin, you really need me to do this? It will help?”

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