Page 118 of Traitor Son

That was why he was about to make one last, massive gamble upon her.

Tying off the last of the ribbons, Remin bound up all three copies and locked them away. One day, he might be able to tear them up and write something better. But if this was the culmination of his life, he would not be ashamed.

He left Edemir’s office with a lighter step. Ophele was waiting for him at home, and the prospect of seeing her made his heart beat faster. She always seemed to have some small gift or surprise for him these days, from a new belt to a sachet for his pillow or even just a pretty stone she had found down by the river. Sometimes it was food, and if she had scones today, he was going to eat one for real.

“Yes,” she said when he knocked on the door, careful as always to warn her.

Ophele was already dressed for dinner when he stepped inside, so beautiful even in her simple blue gown that his chest tightened. She turned to smile at him, and the fronds of her long hair hung around herin damp tendrils, like an enchantress from an old story. Maybe she was one of those dangerous, beautiful women, luring him so subtly and so sweetly that even Remin Grimjaw couldn’t resist her.

“Here,” he said, taking a seat by the fire and holding out a hand for her brush. He was inclined to indulge himself today, and he liked brushing her hair. He liked the feel of it in his fingers, liked feeling it change into silk as it dried in the heat by the fire. He liked turning his hands to a gentle task. “Are you well, wife?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Fine. You keep asking me that,” he remarked, drawing the brush through her hair. “Actually, I was thinking of something my mother told me, when I was a boy.”

“Oh?”

“Have you ever heard of the Diamond Cygnet?”

She shook her head, watching him with large, solemn eyes.

“It’s an heirloom of my mother’s House. Sidonie Ileane of Roye, that was my mother’s name. She told me it was a golden egg as big as both her fists, decorated with jewels to show a forest surrounding a lake. There was a little key that unlocked it on top, and when it opened, there was a swan made of diamonds inside, with a ruby this big for its heart.”

He indicated his own large thumbnail.

“It sounds beautiful.”

“It was a gift from my many-times great-grandfather to his wife, Neda the Swan. She was a great beauty of the time. It was a masterpiece, one of the chief treasures of the family. But House Roye was on the border with Dulcia, before it was absorbed into the Empire, and four hundred years ago the family estate was attacked and looted, and the King of Dulcia took the Cygnet.”

He could remember his mother’s voice as she told him the story, holding his small body in her arms. Of course, she had used simpler words then; seven year-old Remin wasjustold enough to understand treasures and war and loss.

“My mother’s family never forgot it. The story of the swan passed from father to son, mother to daughter, because even if it was in the Dulcian King’s court, it still belonged to House Roye. And sooner or later, the chance would come to get it back.”

“The Annexation?” she asked, quick as always to make connections.

“Just so. Two hundred years ago, Earl Sigedore Aolo of Roye led the Emperor’s forces into the capital of Dulcia. He fought his way through the Dulcian King’s guard and captured the entire royal household. And he only asked the Emperor for one thing as a reward.”

“The Cygnet.” She smiled with appreciation.

“Mmm-hmm. It wasn’t just a matter of pride,” he said thoughtfully. “It wasn’t that the Cygnet belonged to House Roye and they wanted it back. They remembered, over generations. They waited. And when the opportunity came, they took it. My mother said that was the sort of thing that makes a noble house a great House.”

“I always thought that was just a thing for romances,” Ophele said thoughtfully. “Fathers telling their daughters they have to marry so-and-so for the good of their House, when the daughter wants to run off with a stableboy. But I guess if you want to have a great House, sometimes you can’t run off with the stableboy.”

Conversation with her was confusing because he enjoyed it so much. There was always more to say, and he could see all those thoughts crowding behind her eyes.

He just didn’t know, he couldn’t know, if anything she said was real.

Quietly, he brushed. The locks of her hair dried, gleaming in his hands, maple twined with umber, so beautiful against her skin. Before he realized what he was doing, he had touched her, his fingers gently tracing the smooth skin of her forearm, bared by the shorter sleeves of her soft blue gown. All this time he had been careful never to touch her more than necessary, denying his desire for her.

“Your Grace?” she asked softly, and he withdrew.

“Fine,” he said, setting the brush down on the table. “Come, we’ll be late for supper.”

Supper was a raucous affair these days, and with so many new people coming into the valley, the high table was a necessity. Remin sat surrounded by his knights, eating only from the dishes Wen personally provided, and even then, only after Tounot and Miche had tasted them.

“Thank you,” Ophele said as he cut her meat for her, a courtly grace. Soon there would be silver, it was already on its way, but he liked watching her eat, her slim fingers picking at the morsels, her tidy manners. Her hands were so pretty.

“Sousten says you’ll be needed at the house tomorrow, Rem,” said Juste from a few spaces down the table. Juste had taken charge of the day-to-day building of the manor house. If something happened to Remin, then the house would belong to him.

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