Page 59 of Stardust Child

The heat was beating in his blood. Stars, she was so soft, she smelled so good. He dragged his face against her body, covering her with his mouth, letting her dazzle all of his senses so he didn’t—hecouldn’t—think of anything else. Freeing himself from his breeches, he thrust urgently inside her.

Her hands clutched him. His breath was harsh and rasping in his ears as he pounded himself into her, blind and deaf and blissful. The feel of her wiped away everything except their union and he was panting when he finished, shuddering as he ground his body into hers. And as he filled her in great, searing bursts, he prayed with all his might:stars and ancestors, let her conceive.

“What was that about?” Ophele asked softly when it was over and they were lying together, her fingers running lightly through his black hair.

“I wanted you.” Remin felt very limp and peaceful.

“You tore my dress apart,” she whispered back, her golden eyes warm as honey. “Are you all right?”

“It was a hard day,” he admitted.

“Can I help?”

“You already did,” he replied, closing his eyes as her fingers stroked his cheek. It was true. He was basking in his garden, his place of perfect peace.

Chapter 6 – The Feast of the Departed

Ophele was anything but peaceful when she undertook her own small quest the next day.

Clutching her stack of papers to her breast, she hurried across the street, feeling as if she were offering up her firstborn child. In a moment of wildest insanity, she had confided to Justenin that she had nearly finished her work on the devils, or at least that part Remin wanted to present to the scholars.

Sir Justenin had offered toread it.

What else could she say but thank you? Not just because he was kind enough to make the offer, but if it turned out her work was embarrassing drivel, it was best to find out before she shamed Remin before the Tower of Scholars.

Her stomach gave a slippery, nauseating roll. She had truly done her best, but effort did not equal outcome. Nothing plus nothing did not equal something. Making her way through the maze of worktables in the offices above the storehouse, she found Sir Justenin talking with Sir Edemir and stiffened her spine. Her face felt hot.

“This is it, my lady?” Sir Justenin turned politely toward her, holding out his hand. Right up until the moment his fingers touched the pages, she was an instant from snatching them back and saying no, it wasn’t ready after all, so sorry fortroubling you.

“Yes,” she made herself say. “Everything about the devils I learned. I’m sure you already know it. It’s probably not very good. I’ve never…”

It was strange how many endeavors ended with this stack of paper. By now, she had interviewed hundreds of Remin’s men. Men who had heard the first howls of the wolf demons. Men who had stood those long, lonely watches. She had tried to capture their experience in pages upon pages of notes, so messy evenshecould barely decipher them, and then spent pages more thinking about them, organizing them, presenting her new knowledge as clearly as she could.

She had rewritten it a dozen times. She had laid awake at night arguing with herself, testing her own logic and conclusions. And ultimately, she had produced her own version ofThe Will Immanent,first defining the nature of the devils, and then providing her own speculations and conclusions about what that nature implied.

“…never done anything like this before,” she finished, looking up into Sir Justenin’s pale, placid eyes.

“Are they your honest conclusions?” he asked. It was a question he had asked more than once over supper, when he thought Ophele was insufficiently confident in her assertions.

“Yes,” she said truthfully.

“Then we will make sure they impress the scholars of the Tower,” he said, inclining his head and riffling through the pages. Something about the way he said that made her prickle with alarm.

“We have word that they will be arriving next month, Your Grace,” Edemir explained kindly. “A Master Forgess from the Library of Beasts and Master Torigne, of the Library of Alchemy. With others to follow, if all goes well.”

“Oh. Good,” she said, her hands knotting at her sides as she resisted the urge to snatch her papers from Sir Justenin and run.

She had known they might come. She had known that if they did not, a copy of her research would be sent to the Tower anyway, as a Remin-style rebuke for their neglect. But she actually felt light-headed as she forced herself away, turning toward the steps with every word she had written flashing before her eyes.

“Sorry for dragging you about,” she said as she descended the steps with Sir Davi before her and Sir Leonin behind.

“It’s our job, my lady,” Davi repeated, holding the door for her. It was a fine, warm afternoon, a gentle autumn warmth with a vibrant blue sky. “And if what you wrote is anything like the stuff you’ve been saying, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked anxiously, falling into step between the two men. Sir Leonin always pretended that he wasn’t there and hadn’t heard anything, even when he was interested in the conversation, but Davi was perfectly willing to comment on her activities.

“I do. I hadn’t thought about how we never saw the buggers breed til you said so, but you’re right,” he replied. “Ain’t never seen devil eggs, nor little baby buggers, nor even tell of one devil covering ano—”

“This is hardly a proper topic for conversation on a public street,” interceded Sir Leonin, who was a bit of a wet blanket.

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