Page 5 of Stardust Child

“Got it all right?”

All Remin could see of his wife was her hands on either side of the heavy wool mattress.

“Yes,” she said, muffled.

“All right, lift,” he said, hefting it from his end. It didn’t feel heavy to him, but it was an awkward burden, and it took some maneuvering to squeeze it through the door, setting it out to air on a nearby patch of grass. There wasn’t much to be done in the way of household chores, in a cottage so small; Ophele liked to dust and tidy it herself and Remin kept the woodbox full, but they didn’t need to cook, and laundry was a chore best not contemplated.

Their bed, however, was a problem.

With the shutters open to let in maximum light, Remin sat down on the floor and heaved the frame upright, timbers creaking in protest. Ophele crouched beside him, her long skirts pooling around her feet.

“It’s just…tied together,” she said, pushing at the loosely connected rail. There was a hole bored in the end so it could be tied to the post, and a web of ropes to support a mattress, which would have been perfectly fine for a single, motionless sleeper. Unfortunately, their bed had been getting a lot of hard use.

“I could tie it tighter,” Remin said, frowning.

“That won’t stop it squeaking, though.” Their eyes met in rueful acknowledgement of the real problem.

“Hand me the rope, wife. We could still go to the carpenters.” He knew she was going to shoot that idea down.Hedidn’t have a problem going and telling the carpenters that they wanted a bed sturdy enough to withstand Remin Grimjaw’s amorous activities, but Ophele would combust with shame.

“But they have to finish the work by the north gate. And the barracks. People are still sleeping on floors,” she said, plucking the knife from her belt to trim off a length of rope. And part of Remin would always fixate on the flash of the blade, his body automatically stiffening. But in his mind’s eye, he pictured the moment she had flung the knife away, hoping repetition would make him believe it.

“They can have our bed,” was all he said, grumbling. Looping the rope through the hole in the rail, he pulled it around the post, knotting it so tight the wood creaked. And even then, when he shook it, the damned thing still squeaked.

It wasn’t as if he needed more reasons to curse the Emperor, but the fact that he didn’t dare shrug off his guards so he could make love to his wife in the sturdy, soundproof confines of the storehouse was another. He was tired of being careful. He was tired of being quiet.

Though by now there were few residents in town who weren’t aware of a new…friendliness between their duke and his wife. Certain muffled noises had been heard from the cottage. Yvain and Dol, never known for gossip, had lately become very expressionless whenever Their Graces were mentioned. And more than once, passersby had reported giggling in the woods near the manor house.

This honeymoon period was hard on everyone. Riding along in company, it was as if the quality of the air would suddenly change around the duke and his lady, and Remin’s knights swiftly adopted thousand-yard stares to avoid seeing anything in the vicinity of a certain black warhorse. It was a sight so novel, so shocking, that even the Knights of the Brede weren’t sure how to handle it. Except for Sir Miche of Harnost, who could not stop laughing.

Remin wassmiling.

He was as aware as anyone else of this uncomfortable state of affairs. He had been calledGrimjawsince he was sixteen. But all it took was a look from Ophele to make him feel like the world was made of blue skies and birdsong. If it hadn’t been for his guards, the Emperor’s assassins could have killed him a dozen times over.

It happened again later that day. Remin tried to involve Ophele in all decisions regarding their house, and so he stopped by the cottage to pick her up that afternoon on the way to the manor, swinging her up onto Lancer at a trot to make her squeal with laughter.

“Master Didion wants to see us again?” she asked as he settled her before him on the horse.

“We have to pick our guardian dogs,” he explained. “They’re supposed to be built along with the house, apparently, but he had a fit when I told him to just put a mastiff or something there.”

“Are they meant to be something in particular?” she asked. “We had them at Aldeburke, but I never knew they meant anything.”

“Not that I know of. They had sand hounds at Ereguil,” he said thoughtfully. “And I saw all kinds in Segoile, one even had wings. You can ask him about it when we get there.”

The master architect had more to say on the subject than anyone in the world could conceivably want to know. Normally Remin would have cut him off after twenty seconds, but Ophele was listening with such fascination that it seemed a shame to spoil her fun.

“They are built in tandem with the house,” Sousten explained, gesturing to the empty pedestals at the foot of the steps, awaiting their occupants. “Dogs are one of the five great gifts of the stars, the companions and guardians of men, and it is only fitting to show appreciation for the blessing. And they will look quite distinguished among the pansies.”

“Mastiffs are distinguished,” Remin remarked. Honestly, he had no particular preference, except that Sousten stop asking him this question.

“Mastiffs areunimaginative,”the architect said scathingly. “The Duke of Andelin cannot have a commonhoundat the doors of his—”

“Iamthe Duke of Andelin,” Remin retorted. Sometimes it seemed like Sousten needed reminding. “The Duke of Andelin’s official position is that as long as it has fangs, I don’t care.”

“Does it have to be a dog?” Ophele wanted to know, glancing between them anxiously. “I mean, an actual canine?”

“The House of Melun has lion dogs in front of its house in Segoile,” Remin told her, so instantly gentled that Sousten’s lower lip edged out sulkily. “There’s some latitude.”

“Well, we do have a sort of dog in the Andelin…” she offered hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t want to offend anyone, I’m sure they’ve killed so many people….”

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