Page 48 of Stardust Child

“The scary lady in the kitchen?” Miche tucked the letter dutifully into his saddlebags. His horse was also making the voyage across the river. “If she’s willing to face down a knight with a ladle, I expect she’s well enough.”

“She did used to hit me with a spoon,” Ophele said hopefully, and lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “I almost forgot, there’s a nook above the bay window in the library, all my favorite books arehidden up there, I expect no one’s touched them. And I left a few in my bedroom, just ask Germain to fetch them, I don’t want anything else. And I had a stack in the barn, Tam can show—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sir Miche interrupted, looking amused. “Master Gibel! Lend me your scribe, if you please.”

The dockmaster was trailed by a journeyman with a lap desk, and the two of them were charged with tracking all arrivals, departures, and shipping manifests. Miche signaled the stocky young man to pull out his desk and looked expectantly at Ophele. Blushing, she repeated her requests, though Sir Miche’s look of exaggerated amazement made her start giggling halfway through the recitation.

“Like a squirrel,” the blond knight said, shaking his head as he took the list from the scribe. “Sure there’s nothing else? I’ll ransack your mother’s chambers, if you say the word.”

“No, you don’t have to.” That hurt was so old she barely felt it. “Most of it belongs to Lady Hurrell.”

“Hmm.” Borrowing the quill from the scribe, he scratched his own addendum to the bottom of the list. “Lady Rache…Pavot’s…belongings,” he said, sounding each word out with a little relish as he wrote. “I’ll see what I turn up. Rem!” he bellowed abruptly, striding down the dock toward the slip where Remin was conversing with the captain of theAsphodel,one of six ferry boats. “Where’s your seal?”

“Oh, no, but Lady Hurrell won’t like it,” Ophele protested, hurrying after him. “I don’t want to cause trouble—”

“Is she going to come at me with an axe, my lady?” he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder, though he did slow his long strides before she tumbled off the dock in her haste to follow.

Put that way, it did seem ridiculous. What exactly was Lady Hurrell going to do to a Knight of the Brede? But there was a great deal she mightsay,including the unspecified crime of Ophele’s mother, and Ophele’s hands bunched anxiously in her skirt. All at once, she regretted this whole mad venture.

“No,” she said anxiously, subdued. “I don’t know…”

It was impossible to explain. No one could understand Lady Hurrell’s viciousness unless they had suffered it. With outsiders, she was more subtle, ruling her small social circle with an iron fist in a silkenglove. Ophele had been unwilling witness to a number of smiling social assassinations, and some of her victims would likely have preferred a straightforward stabbing.

That was what she had threatened to do to Remin, Ophele remembered, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the wind off the river. Totell.That was what Lady Hurrell did. She knew things, and told them to the right people at the right time.

“I don’t know,” she repeated, her hands knotting together with a familiar blend of shame and dread. “Sir Miche, she’s…not very nice sometimes.”

“Miche,” he corrected, handing the list to Remin.

“Please be careful,” she said, her stomach knotting with anxiety.

“Please be careful, Miche,” he said remorselessly, and grinned when she made a face at him.

“Miche,” she repeated, accepting the comfort of Remin’s hand on hers. The sight of the list in his hands might as well have been a declaration of war. “I don’t really need any of it,” she said desperately. “It’s not really mine, the library was there even before I was born—”

“Every time she says that, I want to steal something else,” Miche told Remin. “You will need dishes, won’t you? Blankets? I could empty all the linen closets. Is there any particular horse you fancied?”

“No,” Ophele said, her eyes widening.

“Are you sure? I remember seeing some very nice carriages. We have roads now.”

For a second she considered it, and yelped as he reached for the paper in Remin’s hand.

“No! No, I don’t want any carriages! Remin, make him stop,” she pleaded, torn between laughter and panic. Her fears seemed ridiculous when she was standing with Remin and Miche, two of the most renowned knights in the world. What could Lady Hurrell possibly do to her, or to them? Remin hadsaidhe wouldn’t blame her for anything her mother did, hepromised…

“Stop,” Remin ordered, glancing down at her with a flicker of humor in his eyes. “Why are you so worried, wife? All of it’s yours.”

“I want…ourthings,” she said lamely, which was technically true, though certainly not the primary reason for her objection. “Things of our own.”

Remin gave her a look but took her at her word, affixing his seal with her signature to the page and adding it to the scroll of orders. They looked terribly official, wrapped in black and silver ribbons and sealed with Remin’sRAstamp. And enclosed in that scroll was a letter.

Greetings to Lord and Lady Hurrell, Lisabe, Julot, and everyone at Aldeburke,she had written.I am sending this letter with Sir Miche of Harnost, who you may remember from his visit earlier this year, with the rest of the Knights of the Brede. Please extend to him your kindness and hospitality. He has offered to bring a few things from Aldeburke to me, which I do not believe will in any way inconvenience or discomfit you…

That was why she had only asked for books. She could not recall any of the Hurrells ever visiting the library, but she knew she was treading a fine and dangerous line. Everything in Aldeburke was hers, but she had no right to any of it. It was a ransom she owed for her mother’s ruin of House Hurrell. Didn’t she owe them every last page in the library?

As I have reached my majority, I am encouraged to take an interest in the estate and will be sending Mr. Thiry Cambert to manage the books going forward. This is only to relieve you of the burden you have assumed for my sake all these years and I hope will only give you more leisure to enjoy yourself, in gratitude for your work all these years.

Remin and Sir Edemir strongly encouraged this interest. Implacably, even. Remin because he took the responsibilities of a lord very seriously, and Sir Edemir because the thought of not collecting the money she was due apparently ate at his soul. The normally articulate knight had been so befuddled by her reluctance, he had been reduced to repeatingbut it’s yoursover and over, as if he thought the problem was one of intonation.

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