Page 86 of Stardust Child

“Oh, dear, dear.” Lady Hurrell crouched down to Ophele’s level. “I have told you and told you that fibs aren’t nice. Apologize to the lady. Go on, now.”

Ophele’s face blazed scarlet, a hot, prickling blush that made perspiration bead on her forehead, but she knew better than to protest. The truth was whatever Lady Hurrell said it was. Her heart was jerking in her chest as the lady pushed her forward to stand before all those terrible eyes.

“I-I lied,” she said. “I’m sorry…” The silence was so deep, the words sounded as if they were falling into a pit. Ordinarily Lady Hurrell would have made her repeat herself until the apology came out loud and clear, but not before these witnesses. She was already swooping down as Ophele began to tremble all over.

“She is a sensitive child,” Lady Hurrell apologized, bending to pick Ophele up. “There, there, Ophele. You did just as you ought. There, there…”

This was all that Ophele wanted. The fear and humiliation were almost worth it, if someone would only be kind to her. Burying her face in the lady’s shoulder, she submitted to being embraced and consoled, listening to the rise and fall of Lady Hurrell’s voice as she moved slowly through the crowd, one hand rubbing Ophele’s back. The lady hardly ever held her for this long. Ophele cuddled against her, breathing the familiar scent of rose sachet, and closed her eyes, wishing she could stay just like this forever.

“Here,” Lady Hurrell said in quite a different tone at the parlor doors, and hands gripped Ophele’s arms, prying them loose from the lady’s neck.

“Sorry, my lady,” said Leise. “We were looking for her, I swear we looked everywhere.”

“Never mind. Ophele, let go.” Disentangling herself, Lady Hurrell pushed the child toward the maids, wrenching her arms painfully as they lowered her to the floor. When frightened badly enough, Ophele had taken to hiding in unlikely places around the house, and Leise and Nenot did not appreciate being made to search.

“I’m sorry,” Ophele whispered, pleading. “I didn’t know—”

“Then you should have held your tongue,” Lady Hurrell replied. “We will speak of it later. Take her to her room.”

Her cold glance promised that the conversation would not be pleasant.

* * *

In the darkened cottage, Ophele woke up confused.

At first, she turned automatically to burrow into Remin’s reassuring warmth, but his side of the bed was cold and empty, and then she remembered that he was still in council with his men, planning the long journey to the Spur.

She would have to get used to an empty bed.

Slipping out from under the covers, she wrapped the pink blanket around her shoulders and padded over to the fireplace. It had burned low since she had gone to bed, but the floor before the hearth was still pleasantly warm on her bare feet, and she added a few logs and stirred up the embers, puffing lightly until the dry wood caught.

She didn’t go back to bed. Her long hair pooled around her on the floor as she crouched before the fire, gazing into the leaping flames and feeling the silence of the night.

It wasn’t bad to be alone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had reallybeenalone, without her guards or Elodie or Lady Verr. Lately she had felt besieged with people. Good people, kind people, with nothing but praise for her from all sides, but so very many of them.

She should be happy. Of course, she liked to be praised. It was good to receive approval from the people around her, and especially frompeople who she respected and admired. Only that afternoon, Sir Edemir had asked her advice about a problem in the harbor, where in spite of a theoretically adequate number of docks, porters, and warehouses, the ferries kept having to anchor offshore and wait to be unloaded. It was exactly the sort of problem that she liked, and Sir Edemir believed that she could solve it.

And there was Sir Justenin. His approval meant nearly as much to her as Remin’s. He was her teacher, and his quiet way of leading her through a question until she discovered the answer for herself suited her exactly. Sir Justenin had not said a single word of praise. Instead, he had given her three new books to read, one on philosophy, one on economics, and one that she was sure was from the advanced Imperial curriculum.

“These will be difficult for you, my lady,” he had said, meeting her eyes with a mingling of challenge and approval. “Read them very carefully.”

He meant that he had thought they would betoodifficult before. But he did not think so now.

Fat tears welled in her eyes and splashed onto her bare toes.

Would they still be so proud of her if they knew she didn’t even know her grammar? Or the parts of a sentence? That she hadn’t even known a sentencehadparts until Leonin happened to mention it to Jacot? She still didn’t know what they were, unless they might be the bits between the punctuation.

But grammar wasn’t even the real trouble. The trouble was all the things that she didn’t know she didn’t know, lying invisibly before her like traps waiting to be sprung. The things that she had no way of learning from books, like dancing, or how to play music. The things she inescapably was.

A lying bastard. A little mouse. A poisoned sweet.

Maybe she had had a nightmare. Even now, alone in the dark, she felt as if a thousand eyes were upon her, crushing her until she couldn’t breathe, and her hands crept up to cover her ears as if that would muffle the phantom whispers.

That was how it would be, when everyone learned what she really was. How disappointed they would be. And how much worse it would be now, when they were all so proud of her.

Somehow, in some way she couldn’t anticipate or avoid, she was going to fail them. There were so many things she didn’t know, it wasinevitable that sooner or later she would make a mistake. And then they would know she had deceived them, she hadliedto them and humiliated them all. The more they boasted of her now, the more embarrassed they would be later.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she rocked, silent tears streaking down her cheeks. She wanted Remin. And she was so glad that he was leaving. It was all too easy to picture his face, the sound of his voice when he said he was soproudof her, and imagine all that love and pride bleeding away, the look of angry betrayal when he realized the scope of her deception.

---