Page 87 of Stardust Child

He would be soashamedof her.

* * *

Remin could not have asked for a more perfect afternoon.

As if to compensate for so thoroughly detonating his plans, the skies had cleared and the sun shone warm and benevolent, picking out the gold, copper, and scarlet of the remaining leaves. Ophele was a vision in green when he arrived at the cottage, her hair long and loose the way he liked best, with her eyes as clear and cloudless as the glorious sky.

“Where are we going?” she asked as Remin lifted her onto Lancer’s back. She had been subdued when he woke her that morning, with tear tracks down her cheeks that he did not need to examine.

“You’ll see,” he promised, settling her before the pair of tall baskets slung over the horse’s hindquarters.

“You never tell me anything,” she said, her lower lip edging outward in a way that only made him want to tease her more.

“I’ll give you a forfeit if you can guess before we dismount,” he said, his arm tightening around her as she settled comfortably before him in the saddle. “Your hint is that this whole thing was your idea.”

“Was it?” she asked thoughtfully, waving to the guards at the north gate as they trotted by. “Something that will need baskets…”

They had barely reached the edge of the forest before she came up with the answer.

“Hazelnuts?” she asked, turning to look up at him with delight. “Are we going to gather hazelnuts? Because I told you about the cookies in Aldeburke?”

“My hunters tell me we’ll have to fight the squirrels for them,” Remin replied, glancing at her with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I am not afraid,” she said with a toss of her head that made his smile break through completely.

“I need to name this place,” Remin said as they moved into the trees, reminded anew that everyone, including his hunters, was still calling itthe old forest.“We can’t keep calling it the old forest forever. Half the forest in the valley is old forest.”

“Names are hard,” Ophele agreed, patting Lancer’s neck. “Did you know, a lot of old forests and hills are just old words forforestandhill?Like Maghegdom in Rendeva. Technically that’s justhill hill hillin three old dialects. Mag, heg, dom.”

“One language is sufficient to trouble me,” Remin replied, amused. “Though I am starting to think that names just come in their own time. I heard some of the men calling that lane from Eugene Street to the town square Goose Road.”

“I heard that too, Davi called it that,” Ophele replied. “Though I don’t know if they deserve to have a road named for them, the mean things. They tried to chase me.”

“Did they?” Remin’s eyes narrowed.

“Sir Leonin fought them off. Theyhissedat me, did you know they do that?”

“Yes. There were geese at Rospalme.” Evil-tempered creatures. “I admit I did not have geese in mind when I assigned you guards. How are you getting on with them? They will be with you every day, while I am gone.”

“All right,” she said, with a quirk of her eyebrows that meant something was worrying her. “They are so different from each other. They don’t always agree on what is proper.”

“Let them work it out, and trust your own instincts,” Remin advised. “You are sensible enough to know what is right, and they’ll make a good team, once they sand away the rough edges. Miche and Juste couldn’t stand each other when they first met, did you know that?”

“Stars, I can imagine,” she said, with a little giggle, and Remin kissed the top of her head and cheerfully gossiped about his men, wishing the ride would never end.

In a way, it was fortunate the leaves had cleared away so early, or he would not have dared to bring her so deep into the forest. His scouts had cleared the area ahead of time, just to be absolutely sure there were no devils lurking in the hollows, but Remin paused to listen before he lifted Ophele down from the saddle. He left Lancer to graze on the sweet shade grass with his reins hung over the saddle horn. The war horse was trained to come at Remin’s call and would try to kill anyone else that approached him, so it was safe enough to leave him to crop grass by himself.

“The trees are supposed to be somewhere around here,” Remin said, spotting the granite outcropping his hunters had said to look for. “I don’t know what a hazelnut tree looks like, though. You’re the authority on forage, wife.”

“They are small trees with heart-shaped leaves and are covered with hazelnuts this time of year,” Ophele noted, rising on tiptoe to peer into the forest. “I don’t see any yet. Maybe further in?”

Remin slung the baskets over his shoulder and took her hand as they walked into the trees, a cool and secretive place with many trickling springs and moss-covered rocks. Harduin Cherche, the arborist, had already arrived and was in ecstasies over the many ancient trees in the valley, and Remin could feel that great age here: tall, knotted, twisting trees, and a sense of long-settled quiet. It was a comfortable feeling.

“Oh, there!” Ophele cried about half a mile from the road, pointing. There was a clearing below them with a lot of small trees, and even from the hilltop Remin could see that the ground was littered with brown nuts. “Look how many…”

“Enough to see us through the winter,” Remin agreed, taking her elbow to keep her from sliding down the steep hillside. Those little green slippers were not meant for tramping about a forest. “Are you sure? They don’t look like hazelnuts.”

“Most of them are still in the husk,” she explained, bending to show him the nut inside. “And they have to be roasted. I wonder if this used to be an orchard, it seems like a lot of trees together to be growing wild.”

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