Page 21 of Stardust Child

“Noooo…” she said, drawing the word out thoughtfully. “Your mouth’s not big enough, unless you chopped up—”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Auber said loudly, picking her up bodily under his free arm and bowing to Ophele. “My lady.”

Ophele’s shoulders were shaking with silent giggles as he marched away.

“Did you know they were going to do that?” she asked, hiding her face behind her feather fan.

“I don’t think even Auber knew that was coming,” Remin observed dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “She’s no lady’s maid, but it will be good for you to have someone to fetch and carry for you.”

“I have a friend in mind for her,” Ophele said, her golden eyes dancing.

“Matchmaking already?” he teased, and let his fingers brush hers. “Juste said that you—there’s Miche,” he interrupted himself. Taking her hand, they went to stand together at the rail before the dais.

The townspeople had been arriving during Elodie’s interview, filling the benches and sitting on blankets outside the string barrier, and the loquacious Miche was the obvious choice to wrangle them. For as long as Remin had known him, he had always been one to draw the eye, one of those charismatic people who excited admiration in both men and women. His long blond hair was pulled back in much the same style as Auber’s and his armor was no more decorative than anyone else’s, but somehow Miche of Harnost always contrived to shine.

“Good people,” he said, his booming baritone slicing through the noise of the crowd. A knight knew how to make himself heard. “Welcome to Tresingale’s first tourney. In appreciation for the labors of his people and seeking the blessings of the stars for a bountiful harvest, His Grace the Duke of Andelin has declared today a holiday. Let us pray for the continued health and prosperity of the House of Andelin, our sacred lady, the Daughter of the Stars, and all the good folk of this valley.”

A murmured prayer swept through the watching people, and at the far end of the field, knights, archers, and horsemen knelt on one knee, making the sign of the stars’ blessing in Remin’s direction. He was not much fonder of the attention than his wife, but this was necessary, and he let the people have a long look. Ophele’s fingers in his palm were cold.

“All of you are welcome,” Remin said briefly, his deep voice carrying to the furthest benches. No one wanted to hear speeches when knights on horse were in the wings. “Enjoy the tourney.”

“Archers!” called Miche, and Remin and Ophele took their seats.

“They can aim from so far away?” she asked, watching as the line of archers moved onto the field. The targets were at the opposite end and looked impressively far away from the dais.

“Archery in competition is two hundred yards,” he explained. “On the battlefield, their effective range is twice that, but they aren’t precision shooting at that distance. Argencian longbows, the best in the world.”

“They are?”

“Powerful and accurate,” he said, nodding. “They train to it from childhood, that’s why their shoulders are like that. Watch the ninth man down, and the fourth. My money is on Tancrede, the fourth man. It’s windy today, he’s better at compensating.”

“Then I will bet on the ninth man,” she said, glancing up at him with a little mischief in her eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Heben Barleul.” He almost smiled at her, in full view of the entire crowd. “What will you bet me, wife?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her eyes opening wide that they wereactuallybetting. “I don’t have any money…”

“You have quite a lot of money,” he replied, surprised. “Even aside from mine. What about Aldeburke?”

“Oh. I…I never needed money before,” she stammered. “I suppose that’s true, now that I’m eighteen…”

He hadn’t thought of that either, that she still had an estate of her own. He had assumed Lord Hurrell would administer it, as he would have done since she was a child, but now that he thought of it, Ophele hadn’t sent a single letter to her former guardians. Well, a tournament wasn’t the time to discuss it.

“A forfeit,” he said, to spare her. “Anything I name.”

Deliberately, he added a rumbling, suggestive purr to his voice to make her blush, and it worked.

“Remin,”she whispered, scandalized.

“Well?”

“All right,” she agreed, a smile playing on her lips as she turned to watch the archers, drawing their arrows at the center of the field.

“Notch!” Miche called from the opposite end of the field, lifting his arm. Longbows bent, creaking, the massive shoulder muscles of the archers rippling in a single motion. “Draw!” His voice boomed with only the space of a breath before he roared,“Loose!”

The sound of arrows in flight was a burring screech, almost like the cry of a bird of prey. They rose in a graceful parabola and descended at the far end of the field, thudding into their targets. Those arrows were powerful enough to punch through plate armor. Of twenty arrows, six were bullseyes.

“Oh, look at that!” Ophele said breathlessly, her voice almost lost in the cheers of the crowd.

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