Page 47 of Stardust Child

“There must be some way,” he said, frustrated. “We have greater matters to concern us. I don’t want to build myself a beautiful prison. Or one for Ophele,” he said, guilt striking him anew.

“It won’t last forever,” Juste replied. “I swear it. We will win the peace in Segoile, as we won the war in Valleth. It can be done.”

“And how long will that take?” He was being unreasonable, Remin knew. But Duke Berebet’s letter was the opening sally of an entire new war, and he resented any distraction from the work of his heart.

“Can’t be more than ten, twenty years,” Miche drawled. “The Emperor’s what, fifty-something? He’ll drop dead on his own eventually.”

“He looked robust enough to me last year,” Remin said sourly. He did not find this amusing.

“I don’t believe it will take that long. But this is why we must deal with Segoile,” Juste said with gentle emphasis as he looked at the mutinous Tounot. “We have wealth, which will allow us to buy influence. We have the notoriety of your victory over Valleth to draw the likes of Duke Berebet to us. You will win the Court of War, my lord, and we will play the game of Houses so that no one will ever dare to lift a hand against you again.”

His hands closed on the parapet wall, gripping tight.

“I hope the Emperor lives a long, long time,” he said. “Let them sing of the love match of the Duke of Andelin from one end of the Empire to the other. Let us show him the peerless jewel he gave you in your lady, when he thought only to insult you. And every time the stars bless you with a child, let us send him a letter in gratitude, thanking him for another babe with his untouchable celestial lineage. Let him linger, in spite and bitterness. Let him know himself thwarted in all his bitter designs. Andthenlet him die, small and impotent, and forgotten by us. Then I will be content.”

The crimson of the sunset gleamed in his pale eyes.

“Stars, Juste, let me never make you my enemy,” said Miche, making a sign to the stars for protection.

“My grievances are far greater than yours,” Juste replied calmly. “What is it they say? The best revenge is a life well lived? Then let us build lives of the utmost beauty.”

“That will have to content me.” Tounot fell silent for a moment. “My father filed a petition in the Court of Nobility. My name is no longer Belleme.”

This did not really surprise any of them. Tounot had been estranged from his father for ten years. Ever the consoler, Juste lifted a hand to squeeze his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Remin said, knowing just how inadequate that was. He had never been able to forget what Miche had said the night before his wedding, about how all their friends had died for him, to give him backwhat the Emperor had taken. Tounot would have inherited Irenvale. He should have been its next earl. He had given up his home, his inheritance, and now his name, because Remin was his friend. And Tounot would never turn his back on a friend, or countenance lies against them.

“It’s not your fault,” Tounot said levelly. “I made my choice. It will be hard for my mother. But to answer your question, Rem, I will stay and work for you until Tresingale and your nursery are well established. And then I’ll build a Tresingale of my own and find a…another flower to beautify it.”

Tounot had been betrothed to a girl from childhood. But it was unlikely that betrothal would stand, now that he was a nameless man of no House.

“The lady of House Tounot?” Miche inquired respectfully.

“No. House Gresein.” Tounot glanced between the three of them. “That’s the name I will take, if you think it good.”

“It’s a good name,” Remin agreed.

“That’s what I want,” Juste said approvingly. “More Houses. More Tresingales. And when my own work is done, I will marry, as I too am the last of my blood.” He sighed as if the thought was burdensome. “I want a tranquil sort of blossom. And a tower where I can look at the stars. That will be enough for me.”

It made Remin feel better to hear their dreams. His eyes went automatically to Miche, who flashed a smile.

“Your valley is lacking the company of ladies,” he drawled. “Make me a bed of roses and I will be content to lie there the rest of my days. My dreams are small.”

That made them laugh, and Remin looked away, feeling easier than he had in days. Before him spread the many works of Tresingale, the massive walls to the north and east, the distant rolling fields where dark soil was replacing the golden wheat, the old forest where his hunters worked furiously to provision for the winter. A cobblestone road wound all the way from Gellege Bridge to the north gate and was arcing now through town, where the square had been built, surrounded by a half dozen shops whose occupants were on their way. Soon, they would add their lamplights to the evening glow of the town.

He would make their dreams as real as his own. He would help them live beautiful lives, as the best way to repay them for everything they had done.

Though he wasn’t quite sure what to do for Miche.

Chapter 5 – Knights of the Andelin

“You’ll be careful?”

“As ever I am when there’s work to be done,” said Sir Miche, standing on the pier of the River Brede in the September sunshine. He was about to make use of the river’s first ferry. “Though I’m just going to Aldeburke, my lady, not the Undebige Valley.”

Ophele would rather have faced the undead than Lady Hurrell. But as much as she would miss Sir Miche, it was also exciting to think of his return, laden with the entire contents of Aldeburke’s library, as well as her seal and a few of her mother’s things. By the time he got back, she and Remin would already have moved to the manor.

“Please give this to Azelma,” she said, handing him a thick letter. “And make her write me back, even if it’s only a few words to say she’s doing well. She hasn’t answered any of my letters. I hope nothing happened to her.”

---