Page 65 of Stardust Child

“Did you take it?”

Ophele shook her head a third time. Back then, she had still hoped that if she didn’t speak, then she couldn’t be accused of lying. The lady had already taught her that she was a bastard, and bastards were liars, crooked, deceitful creatures. Ophele’s mother had done a terrible thing when she made her.

“Tell me the truth.” Lady Hurrell’s fingers closed painfully on her chin, forcing her to look up. “Did you take that brooch, Ophele?”

“No…”

A hand cracked across her face. The shock of it was almost as bad as the pain, and Ophele started to cry. The maids stood behind her, expressionless.

“Why are you lying?” Lady Hurrell rarely showed anger. Her face was just sad. “I have told you again and again how important it is to tell the truth.”

“But I don’t…”

Another slap. Ophele’s head rocked.

“I must punish you if you lie, child.” Lady Hurrell crouched down to Ophele’s level, patting her red cheek and making her flinch. “It makes me sad that you are making me punish you. Do you know where the brooch is?”

She didn’t. Ophele was sure she didn’t. But Lady Hurrell was just as sure that she did, and so hurt, sodisappointed,great tears welled in her eyes as she slapped Ophele again and again. They were all so sure, Ophele even began to doubt herself, even as she denied it ever more frantically. Had she done it? Surely Lady Hurrell wouldn’t say so unless she had done something bad, would she? In the end they were weeping together, Ophele’s eyes swollen shut with tears as she sobbed hysterically.

“Ophele, youmusttell the truth. It will all be better if you tell the truth,” Lady Hurrell pleaded. “You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” Ophele sobbed.

“Where?”

But she didn’t know. Or maybe she did know and had forgotten. Maybe she had taken the brooch and was such a liar, she had even lied to herself. Lady Hurrell’s voice went remorselessly on, reminding Ophele of everything her mother had done and asking how she could be such abad, ungrateful girl, to steal a brooch when she already would never be able to pay House Hurrell back.

In the end, Ophele was a liar. She lied wildly, frantically, spilling forth whatever words she needed to say to make it stop. It was a relief to just give up. She sent the maids to the attic, to the cellar, to the library, lying again and again about where she had hidden the brooch. And when it was perfectly clear to everyone that she was lying, Lady Hurrell ordered her taken back to her room, without the pouch of sacred incense.

“Your mother would not want to see you, after such a day,” Lady Hurrell sighed. Ophele had cried herself sick. “Ophele. Your mother was a liar, too. The stars cursed her with a bastard for her lies. They cursed her to sicken and die.”

The bed shifted as Lady Hurrell sat beside her, brushing her hair back from her hot face.

“I should hate for that to happen to you,” she murmured. “You stay here tonight and think about what you have done. Perhaps next year you will see your mother.”

That was not the last Feast of the Departed that Ophele spent in her bedroom, looking up at the stars through her window and calling to her mother. And when the brooch was found some weeks later, she never questioned that she had been the one to hide it under Lady Hurrell’s dressing table. She must have done it and then forgotten. And when she came to Lady Hurrell and admitted it, the lady had been so kind, picking her up into her lap and embracing her.

“There, you see?” she whispered, her soft cheek pressed against Ophele’s thin one. “Isn’t it better when you tell the truth?”

“Yes,” Ophele said, almost inaudible. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry I…lied.”

“I know you can’t help it, child,” the lady said tenderly. “You’re a bastard. Bastards lie.”

* * *

She was a liar.

And sooner or later, Remin was going to find out.

With every step toward the cottage, Ophele’s heart sank further into her shoes. How had she not realized that this would happen? Of course, he would expect to meet their families together; that was what normalpeople did on the Feast of the Departed. She had been so busy preparing for the feast and the feeding of the fields, it had seemed like a different holiday altogether. And this one would not end with Ophele alone by the fire, with only a single pinch of incense to summon a wisp of her mother, a breath of regret and longing.

His family would be there. His wholeHousethat her mother had helped to murder, and her mother would be standing there beside them. Would they know it? Would they sense each other? Would they understand who Ophele was? The daughter of the Emperor that had ordered their executions, married to their last remaining son! Oh, she could imagine those ghostly faces in the smoke, those furious, accusing eyes, their righteous rage at what had been done to them.

Would Remin hate her for it?

He had said over and over that he did not hold her responsible for anything her father had done. Unconsciously, her hand tightened on his arm at the thought, and she only distantly heard his deep voice, telling her about his mother and father and grandparents. And another thrill of fear struck her, because even if she was not to blame for her parents’ crimes, shewasdeceiving him. She was not what he thought she was. Even if Remin did not know enough of women to tell the difference, his mother and grandmothers, great ladies of ancient Houses, must certainly know the truth at a glance.

Her throat clicked as she swallowed dryly. Until now, it hadn’t seemed so bad, hiding it from Remin; there was still time to learn, time to turn the lies into truth. But dressed in her fine red silk gown and going to facerealnoblewomen, she felt like a sparrow clutching a pair of peacock feathers. They would see right through her. And in her mind, they had the look of Lady Hurrell, and that voice sounded in her head, wondering how Remin, the son of an ancient and noble house, had come to marry such a wretch.

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