And even with all these precautions and assurances, it was still hard to face Remin that night.
“We watched Azelma make all of it,” she explained, feeling inexplicably nervous as she looked up into Remin’s opaque black eyes. “I thought, we could test it in front of you, and then taste it—”
“Not you,” he said, looking over at Azelma. “You eat it.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, firming up her mouth. Azelma was a chef trained in the Imperial kitchens; she was accustomed to tasting her cooking. With four separate silver forks, she tasted each course, presenting them for his inspection with Leonin and Davi watching every move.
There were only five of them at supper. Ophele had apologetically asked Mionet not to come, judging that Remin would not appreciate company. Her guess was confirmed as he sat to the table in ominous silence, refusing Davi’s offer to switch plates.
“I went to see Wen today,” Ophele began, buttering a slice of bread and lifting it to her lips. “He was talk—”
“Wait.”Remin spoke so sharply, it startled her, but his eyes were on the bread, not her. “We…haven’t said the blessing.”
It was an agonizing meal. No one else felt like talking, and Remin ate with a grim expression that was somehow different from his usual grim expression and responded to Ophele’s attempts at conversation with monosyllables. His fork jabbed and lifted his food to his mouth as if every bite were a fresh-caught fish: raw, wriggling, and fighting to live.
Ophele couldn’t help watching him from the corner of her eyes, and everyone else looked anywherebutin His Grace’s direction.
“…and Master Forgess came at noon.” Ophele soldiered on. She was learning the value of Mionet’s lessons in making inoffensive and endless conversation. “He has been teaching me about taxonomy …”
She very nearly resorted to listing off various classes of reptile before the interminable dinner was over. Everyone departed the instant they could and Ophele didn’t even bother trying to keep any food back for later; it was enough that Remin had eatensomething,without hiding it in the bread or stuffing it into the mashed parsnips. Surely it would get easier, once he got used to the idea of Azelma cooking his food.
“Do you want me to read to you?” she asked once the doors were shut and locked and the world shrank to the safe confines of the bedchamber, lit softly by candlelight. It was a relief to have him safe at home, where no one could hurt him.
He did. And a little while later, he took her to bed and moved in her with a different kind of hunger, taking her with hard, punishing strokes of his body. He had hardly finished filling her before he was rousing again, and took her with suchpassionate violence that Ophele dropped into sleep like she was falling into a pit.
And woke to an empty bed.
Still a little dazed, she sat up and pushed the heavy bed drapes out of the way. The fire had burned low, and the room was so cold, her breath puffed white as she slipped out of bed and fumbled about for slippers. It took a moment to realize that the hall door was open. It only led to their dressing rooms, privy, and bath chamber, but Remin never leftanydoor open.
“Remin?” she called softly.
It was not a long search. The moment she stepped into the hallway, she heard a muffled noise that made her heart contract with terror.
“Remin!” she exclaimed, racing over to the privy and yanking on the door. “Remin, are you all right? Open the door!”
Again, the unmistakable sound of vomiting.
“Stay out,” he said hoarsely. “Go back to bed.”
“No! Are you sick? It can’t be the food, Ichecked!”Her hands went to her mouth in horror as he threw up again. “Remin, let me in!”
“It’s not poison,” he rasped when he was done. “I’m…I’m just not feeling well, wife. It’s fine. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”
“Stop telling me it’s fine!” Tears filled her eyes. “Tell me the truth, oh, I’ll go get Miche—”
“No.”He sounded so miserable. “Don’t bother him. It’ll pass.”
Ophele hesitated, torn.
“Then tell me what’s wrong,” she said. “You’re not fine. This is not fine.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he finally admitted, low. “I had to…I know you were careful. I know it’s not…poison.”
But he didn’t, really. He couldn’t. She sank to the floor against the door, wrapping her arms around her knees as her tears silently overflowed.
“It really isn’t,” she said, scrubbing them away with the back of her hand. “I watched. We tasted every bit of it, and I’m not sick, and Davi tried it all hours and hours ago, he would…”
“I know,” Remin said, and fell silent.
