Page 69 of Stardust Child

Two thousand people. They were still streaming out the gate, moving further into the fields, singing as they bent to slip off their shoes. There was Auber’s clan with their light brown hair, groups of burly masons and blacksmiths, and further up the hill he spotted Madam Sanai, Master Balad, and the other Benkki Desans, looking uncertain but willing to honor the customs of their new home. Only Wen and his boys were missing, guarding the food supply and—in Wen’s case, wasting bread.

Two thousand people, spread out over the wide, dark acres. Barefoot, they walked and sang and planted together, bare feet compressing the soil for a season of rest, and it was long past sunrise when they finished. Remin kept them at it until every last morsel of the feast was buried.

“Are we done?” Ophele came to stand at his side, lifting a grubby hand to hide a yawn. “That was a lot of food.”

“My father always said to feed the fields generously, and they will reward it the next season.” Remin’s eyes narrowed as he looked to the furthest acres, where two armored men lifted their arms to indicate that the planting was done. There was no further ceremony needed. When he turned back to the gates, everyone followed, thousands of bare feet patting down the earth.

It was going to be a quiet day in Tresingale. Almost everyone was going home to sleep off the lingering effects of the incense, and Remin felt pleasantly tired as he walked home with Ophele, clutching both his boots and her slippers in one hand.

Nottootired, though.

“No, leave it,” he said, as Ophele bent to pull a fresh chemise from her trunk. His arms went around her to pull her back to her feet, her naked skin glowing from washing. “I have a mind for one more planting.”

“The fields need to sleep,” she whispered, but the way she looked at him through her eyelashes and the soft curve of her mouth instantly roused him. “Are you sure they’re…gone?”

Remin glanced at the hearth, but the fire crackling there was no different than any other fire, and there wasn’t the least wisp of smoke from the brazier.

“Gone,” he confirmed, his voice rumbling as he backed her toward the bed, his big hand sliding up her slender neck to cradle the back of her head and turn her face up toward him. “Next year, if we’re lucky, we’ll have a babe to show them.”

Her legs hit the bed, and he caught her to lay her down in the blankets, pushing her thighs apart with his knee.

“I want that,” she whispered, reaching for him as he moved above her. He was already hard, pushing his eager length against her, wanting to make her moan, make her wet, make her ready. “What…what if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll keep trying,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving upward. He wasn’t ready to contemplate anything else, especially since he knew Ophele would blame herself. He didn’t want to think about anything at all when she was under him and squirming, her teeth capturing his earlobe in the way she knew made him instantly hard as iron.

There were guards outside. There were always guards. It was still a battle to keep quiet, muffling their moans and cries into each other’s flesh. Remin held her hard against him, her face buried in his chest, taking him deep inside her as he filled her, willing his seed to take root.

But as they lay together, the question that had been tugging the back of his mind bubbled upward, and he was too tired to keep it from escaping.

“Wife.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “What did your mother have to do with the fall of my House?”

Chapter 7 – Lady of the Household

The Agnephus dynasty had begun with Ospret Far-Eyes, who was said to have come from the stars.

History was unclear whether he made this claim himself or if it was only a legend that had grown up around him. It was true that his knowledge was greater than any other man of his time. His visions had shaped the Empire for centuries to come, as if he had been watching the world for a long time and from a great distance before he had condescended to come down to it. Every painting and sculpture of Ospret depicted a tall and elegant god with silver-white hair, so light and gleaming, it might have been spun from starlight.

There were some that held this as proof of how diluted the Imperial bloodline had become. There was no sign of that silvery hair in the House of Agnephus. House Melun did not dare to say aloud that their bloodline was purer, but it was a matter given much study by the Imperial Healers, and at this year’s Feast of the Departed, even the Melun men flaunted long, pale manes. They were a tall and lovely contingent under the Dome of Stars, dressed in a shade of purple that was perilously close to the Imperial blue.

The only silver in Emperor Bastin Agnephus’s hair came from age. But none could deny he had Ospret Agnephus’s eyes, an unearthly blue that shone with stars.

Crown Princess Selenne had both starry blue eyes and silver-blonde hair, a long and shining veil that fell nearly to her knees, cultivated at her mother’s command since she was a small child. At sixteen, she was tall for a maiden; eight inches taller than Ophele, the half-sister she had never met. Seated at the high table in the Hall of Radiance, she was the figure to whom all eyes turned, an Empress-to-be in whom rested the hopes of two dynasties.

She should have been contemplating the many ancestors ranged in the empty seats opposite her. At the high table, the entire row facing the Emperor was empty to ensure a place for all the dead Emperors and Empresses. Every place was set with ivory plates inlaid with silver, sapphires, and diamonds, with silver goblets and crystal wineglasses. Succulent cuts of meat, exotic greens, and rich sauces were carefully portioned onto every plate, course after course of exquisite dishes. The wine was of such a rare vintage, even the Emperor only sipped at half a glass.

“You will attend in the Hall of Marbles after the feast,” the Emperor murmured as soon as he had lifted his glass to welcome the spirits.

“Yes, Father.” Selenne arranged her skirts and hair carefully before she sat down, with her father on her right and her mother on her left. The Emperor and Empress did not like to sit next to each other.

“Your grandparents and I will be in the Tower of Ylesse Liet,” the Empress added, as serenely as if the Emperor hadn’t spoken. “I hope you will come to visit your Melun ancestors, my daughter.”

“Yes, Mother.” Selenne sat stiffly under her mother’s caress, a touch of cool fingertips on her cheek. Empress Esmene could not prevail over the authority of the Emperor, so instead she appealed to blood and sentiment.

“We welcome the divine spirit of Ospret Agnephus, the first Emperor, father of the nation of Argence…” Prior Dardinne Rumes, a somber and dignified fellow in light blue robes, began the list of names and accomplishments of every Agnephus from Ospret onward. “…and beloved husband of Ambrosie Star-Daughter…”

In the stories, this was further evidence of the divine lineage of the House of Agnephus; not only had Ospret come from the stars, but his bride was the child of one, as if the stuff in Selenne’s veins was silver rather than red. Selenne had heard these stories for as long as she could remember, but had never been able to make up her mind if she believed it. Did it really matter? Everyone else behaved as if it were true.

As the Prior droned on, the hall was silent but for the clinking of utensils and cups as course after course was brought out, a symphony of complimentary and contrasting tastes, textures, and colors. It was a signal honor to be invited to the Emperor’s Feast of the Departed. It was fairly intimate, for an official function; only two hundred people were permitted into the Hall of Radiance, and at the high table sat representatives from the ducal Houses, related to the House of Agnephus by blood or marriage. Only House Ereguil and House Andelin were absent.

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