Page 2 of Stardust Child

Esmene’s lips curved with satisfaction as they turned to face the Seer together, and in his heart, even as he spoke his marriage oath, Bastin swore another: he would find a way to be free of her.

Thirty-one years later, he was still trying.

From the wide windows of his office in the Imperial Palace, he gazed down into the gardens at the evidence of his failure. In those gardens walked the Empress and his half-Melun daughter, Selenne, who was the same pale platinum beauty as her mother. The birth of Selenne was a victory for the Empress that he could never undo, but though he had tried to hate his child for the crimes of her mother, he had failed there, too. Though Esmene had done her best to keep his daughter from him, Selenne still came to walk in the gardens he had forbidden to anyone else, and he endured the hated presence of the Empress.

Among the begonias a short distance from the two women, a small white animal appeared and vanished again, swift and silent as a ghost.

“Divinity,” prompted one of his secretaries. “The petition?”

“I am minded to grant it,” the Emperor said, turning away from the window. Picking up the letter on his desk, he skimmed it again, feminine writing that used many more words than necessary to obscure its vulgar quid pro quo. “Draft the necessary documents and I’ll sign them.”

“Yes, Divinity.”

The years had not been without victories. Bastin was not the weak man his father had been. Over the decades, he had reminded the Empire that he was sacred in ways they would never forget. He had built his power and influence, augmented by the enormous increase in Imperial resources that came in the aftermath of the Conspiracy. He had tripled his lands and wealth from that incident alone.

And Bastin had learned that even in defeat, there were still ways to snatch a species of victory.

“Send for Master Geheim,” he ordered, prompting an exodus of scribes from the room. Master Lariot Geheim’s visits with the Emperor were not recorded for posterity: another victory. It had taken twenty years of patient work for Bastin to bend the Tower of Scholars to his will, but the record of his reign was now under his control.

Turning back to the window, he watched as the Empress waved farewell to her daughter, sweeping off into the roses with her ladies behind her, fluttering like so many aged, dignified butterflies. Empress Esmene was fifty-five now, and her slender elegance was beginning to show signs of brittleness. It was an aging court. But as long as she died before him, Bastin would count that a victory, and every day of life without her would be sweeter for her absence.

Crown Princess Selenne was another matter. Bastin had been preparing the battleground for her betrothal almost since the day she was born. She would not be bound, as he had been. She was his last chance to set things right. His last opportunity to triumph over the House of Melun and make the House of Agnephus a power in its own right. It would be satisfying, if ironic, if his enemies aided him in this ultimate victory.

“Divinity?” Master Geheim stepped inside and bowed, a lean man who might have been any age from forty to sixty. His black hair and gray eyes conveyed all the warmth of a puddle. Nominally, he was in charge of the Emperor’s Land Office, with its vast network of couriers and messengers, who often carried more unofficial orders. Over the years he had handled a great deal of the Emperor’s clandestine work.

“Master Geheim.” Bastin waved him to a chair and sat down on the other side of his desk. “We have some messengers to dispatch.”

Chapter 1 – A Tale of Wolves

YEAR 826 OF THE DIVINE HOUSE OF AGNEPHUS

On the other side of the Empire, the Emperor’s enemies were still enjoying their honeymoon.

Of course, Ophele had already been married for nearly eight months, but she had onlyfeltmarried for a week or so. It was as if she had wandered into another, more beautiful world. Flowers were everywhere. The very air seemed more satisfying, as if she had never taken a proper breath before in her life. If her husband had his way, her precious feet would never touch the earth.

She didn’t even mind getting up early anymore, if it was Remin doing the waking. Back in Aldeburke, she had hated it; the person waking her was unlikely to be gentle and certainly not someone she liked, so for years she had slept in hidden places and awakened when it suited her. Remin’s dawn risings had seemed particularly sadistic at first, but that was before she knew that he was the handsomest, sweetest, bravest, most wonderful person that had ever lived. Ever.

Big hands caressed her into wakefulness. The feel of his bare chest at her back, always warm, solid as a stone wall. Ophele stretched, mewing with pleasure as his fingers slid over her breasts and moved between her legs, his mouth inscribing a biting caress at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Behind her closed eyelids she sensed a dim light, but her sleepy mind wondered no further whether it might be daylight or firelight; all that mattered was…

“Remin,” she murmured, squirming as his fingers found the new spot between her legs that they had discovered a couple days ago. She was still a little sore from the previous night—having found a new pleasure center, Remin wouldn’t leave it alone—but it felt so good that her breath caught, and he muffled her moan with a kiss.

“Good morning, my wife,” he whispered, his deep voice vibrating into her bones, and his hard length moved between her legs. His hand tightened on her breast, pinching her nipple between his fingers, and both of them sighed as he drew back and stroked against her again.

It felt so good. Normally he would have turned her onto her back and moved over her, but as she met his gaze, the same thought occurred to them simultaneously.

Could we do it this way?

“Yes,” Remin said instantly, his black eyes heating. Catching under her knee, he angled his body behind her, always game to try something new. She felt him catch at her opening and then press forward, stinging just a little as she stretched to take him. But it was an entirely new position, a new pressure, a new friction, and they gasped together as he sank inside. “I like this,” he said, his voice breathy, and he withdrew and thrust again. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes, yes,” she moaned. It was still so hard to be quiet, especially when his other hand was moving, his fingers circling that spot. “We can do it like this?”

“I don’t see why not.” His hair tickled her neck as he buried his face in her shoulder to muffle a groan. “I never heard that we’re only supposed to do it one way. Ahhh,haaa,you’re squeezing me, wife—”

“I can’t help it when you do that…” The words ended with another gasp and then neither of them could talk anymore, lost in the new sensations and drowning together, which was more or less how they had spent the preceding week.

Was marriage really supposed to be like this? The unions she had observed at Aldeburke had never hinted at any great passion, but maybe they were just better at hiding it. Ophele loved the games she and Remin were playing, teasing and touching and discovering so many surprises in each other’s bodies. Remin liked it when she bit his ears. Ophele melted instantly when he kissed her neck. At night, she barely even noticed thehowls and cacklings of the devils because she was waiting in a fever of impatience for Remin to come home. Sometimes he didn’t even get all his armor off before he pushed her into bed.

Was she supposed to pretend that she didn’t like it? None of the romances she had read went further than the wedding, and though Remin promised that other women would soon arrive in the valley, there was still no one she could ask. Surely, it could not be right tolieto him. When he was holding her in his arms and looking at her with such love, the last thing she wanted to do was push him away. It was all so new and wonderful, like living inside a love poem, adoring each other and teasing each other and rousing each other all over again.

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