Page 145 of Last of His Blood
“Perhaps you would like to show His Grace what you have learned, my lady,” Mionet suggested. “If I might find a knight who will help me keep you company?”
Her gaze landed on Justenin, who rose so promptly that Ophele could not find a polite way to refuse. Amidst a sudden and extreme attack of stage fright, she forced herself to her feet, her tongue rooted firmly to the roof of her mouth. Everyone was looking at her.
“Well, haven’t we been learning not to trip over each other?” Remin asked lightly, taking her hands and drawing her into the open space before the fire.
“I can’t promise I won’t,” she replied, assuming the proper position for an Imperial Tournel, her right hand clasped in his and her left on his bicep, which was as high as she could comfortably reach.
It was a bit of a stumbling start; Remin was five inches taller than even the lanky Davi, and his feet were very big. But after a few missteps, they found a pace that suited them both, a gliding, graceful step,onetwo three,onetwo three. She had done this every day for almost four months, and beside her, she could hear the familiar accompanying steps of Mionet and Justenin, keeping the time. Remin’s hand pressed gently at her back.
“Look at me, wife,” he whispered, and she lifted her eyes to find that he was smiling, watching her dance, and her feet moved even better when she stopped looking down at them.
“You did say you knew how to dance,” she said bashfully, feeling a wide, foolish smile spread across her face.
This was what Mionet had been trying to describe, when she sighed after the balls of the capital. The flourishes of the Imperial Tournel were meant to allow a man to display his partner: the flare of her skirts, the grace of her limbs, the glitter of her jewels and all of her beauty. Remin’s hand squeezed a gentle warning and then he spun her outward in a whirl of pink and cream satin, and it was likebeinga flower as it unfurled, contained safe in the frame of his arms and for a single, exquisite moment: perfect.
The watching knights applauded.
Ophele only just remembered that she was meant to backstep so Remin could draw her back in, but she did it, and moved straight into the next figure,onetwo three,onetwo three. She looked up at him, as surprised as anyone to find herself exactly where she was supposed to be, and found his dark eyes wereglowing.
He was proud of her.
She had promised she would learn how to dance.
It was just one thing, the tiniest subset of all theotherthings she had to learn, but she had done it. Maybe she wouldn’t disgrace them in the capital after all. She could learn. She could make him proud. She would make them all proud.
Miche set aside his flute to claim the next dance, and then Tounot bowed and took her hand, and one after another, she danced with them all. It was like a dream, the glow of the fire and the whirl of the music and the dancing, some timeless magic, as if the vision of this night and these fine knights and lords would linger here forever.
But there was one man that could not dance.
When she finally sat down to catch her breath, her eyes sought him out unthinking, sitting in the shadows with his chair angled to conceal his missing arm. Was there a way she might invite Huber to dance? He probably would not like to all at once, without even a chance to practice. And then she wondered with a sudden pang whether he had learned how to play an instrument too, when he was a boy.
He would never play one again.
As if he could hear her thoughts, his head turned, and copper flashed as his eyes met hers.
Instantly, her gaze dropped to the floor, embarrassed. But no, it would be even worse to avoid him. They had only spoken a few times over supper, and he had been so often away that she had not had much chance to know him, but somehow she had always felt a kinship with Huber. Ophele looked at him with mute inquiry, filled with her concern for him, her goodwill for this good man. Four times, he had risked himself, trying to help Remin’s villagers.
In the end, it had cost him his arm.
Maybe it was the gift of two people who did not find it easy to speak to find other ways to communicate. For a long moment, their eyes met in eloquent silence, and when Tounot plucked the first few chords of the next song, and all the other knights lifted their voices in a familiar ballad, Huber turned his head in the shadows, and softly sang along.
***
Why did every important occasion require her to be hauled out of bed before dawn?
“Here is your traveling gown, my lady,” said Mionet, far too cheerfully when it was still dark outside the windows. Ophele mumbled and put her arms out so Emi and Peri could slip asoft wool gown over her head. She had finally learned what ahouppelandewas, a full-skirted gown with a high, frilled collar, after the style of the Western Empire. Amber and jasper glinted on her sash, and Mionet chose matching ribbons to weave through her hair.
This was the last time Emi and Peri would dress her. The last time she would sit to breakfast in the solar with the household, half of them still tousled and sleepy. Justenin had brought a stack of papers to the table, his pale eyes skimming over their contents.
“At least our new chambers will await us when we come back,” said Miche, leaning back in his chair with the satisfaction of one man watching another work. “I’ve ordered woodwork enough to deplete a forest, Rem. Hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s furnishings for the household, you’re part of the household,” Remin replied between large bites of egg and sausage.
Most of their trunks and baggage had been carted down to the harbor the day before, but it was still a rush to collect the last few objects. Remin had a steel casket of papers that he refused to let out of his sight, lined with oilskin and surrounded on the outside with leather-wrapped hollow logs, to ensure it could survive both fire and shipwreck. He checked so many times to make sure it hadn’t been forgotten that Miche offered to tie it to his wrist.
The sun was rising behind the Berlawes when the household gathered in the courtyard, with a line of carriages and horses and all the servants clustered to bid their lord and lady farewell. The house and all the incoming servants would be under Adelan’s care, along with oversight of the construction, with firm orders to restrain Sousten’s more flamboyant impulses.
“Tell Auber if you need any help,” Remin said, offering a hand to the butler. It was not the way of the Empire, but Adelan only hesitated a moment before he reached to firmly clasp it.
