Miche turned to see what she was looking at.
“I’ll talk to Juste,” he said, quickly reaching to push the small sprig of purple flowers the rest of the way behind Juste’s shutters. It was not the first such gift that Miche had spotted over the last month or so, and it amused him to play a small part in keeping Juste’s secrets.
But there was no hiding it from Ophele. For a moment, she stared at the place where the flowers had been, the thoughts whirring away behind her large tawny eyes, and then she gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going instantly to Miche.
“Is that—”
“Juste has been very busy in the evenings, especially as we will soon be leaving,” Miche said loudly, lifting a finger to his lips. “So I will ask him, my lady, but I would not count on his company.”
“Oh—oh, of course.” Ophele hugged the basket of fish. “I am happy—that is, I am so happy if you want time to yourselves, or are busy with…other things. Both of you have done so much for us. I will just go te…thank you for the fish. Thank you.”
Stars, could she be more obvious? Miche watched with amusement as she retreated, and the instant she was around the corner of the house he heard her footsteps accelerate, bolting straight to Remin to tell him all about it. One day she would be dangerous, but first she was going to have to learn to keep a secret.
Why should he wish for that day to come faster?
But the day of their departure was certainly coming rapidly, and while Juste and Adelan made all the preparations for the household, Miche had been busy preparing for the journey itself. Nearly half of it would occur on the river, and the carpenters and shipwrights were hard at work converting one of the ferries into something a little more substantial, with cabins and charcoal stoves to keep the ladies warm. As Miche had good cause to know, it was bitterly cold on the water.
It would be a far more comfortable journey than the one they had made from Aldeburke almost a year ago, when Ophele had been sleeping in the supply wagon at night and Remin had watched her with the helpless resentment of a man fighting an enchantment.
There, at least, Miche thought he could be proud of his year’s work.
“I have made a few provisions already,” he said as he sat down opposite Lady Verr in the solar, to discuss her portion of the preparations. She would be charged with Ophele’s belongings and her comfort for the duration of the journey. “The carpenters are working on trunks and bandboxes for Their Grace’s clothing and shoes and so on, and there will be enough room in the carriages for the entire contents of Master Tiffen’s shop. But if there’s aught that you need, or anything I have overlooked, you have only to say so.”
In this, at least, he was grateful for Lady Verr’s presence. The job of a lady-in-waiting was often just to complain on behalf of the lady she served, and as Ophele would freeze to death before she thought to ask for a blanket, it was a relief to know that Lady Verr was both willing and able to take personal offense at the weather.
“I have already begun making a list,” she agreed, which did not surprise Miche in the slightest. “Who will be managing His Grace’s things?”
“Magne is going with us,” Miche replied, accepting a sheaf of papers from her and skimming the first page. “You won’t need to bring blankets; I have lap robes coming from the furrier. You and Ophele will have a carriage, not a sledge.”
“That will make things easier,” Lady Verr agreed, making notes of her own. “I hope it is one of the new carriages, perhaps with His Grace’s heraldry. And matched horses. People will see them. It will not do to appear as if His Grace robbed a carriage house.”
“All the insignia of Aldeburke has been painted over and we have a set of grays to draw Her Grace’s carriage,” Miche said, slanting a look at her. She missed absolutely nothing.
It was a fair starting point, and often after supper they would sit at the long table in the solar, comparing notes. It wasn’t only questions of baggage and transport; every mile of their journey had to be planned with care, and all due courtesy extended to the lords of the lands they passed through. Most of them would have liked to either host or obstruct the Duke of Andelin, and the tricky task of avoiding them without giving offense had fallen to Miche.
“If we stay with them, then they’ll ask to travel with us, and I won’t have strangers near Rem or Ophele,” Miche said when Lady Verr proposed staying with this or that acquaintance. No doubt she had many people she would like to introduce to Ophele. “There are plenty of good inns between Elantier and Segoile.”
“You have warned them to expect us?” One perfect eyebrow lifted. “There will be many travelers on the road this time of year.”
“They will have to seek rooms elsewhere, as we are renting the inn,” Miche replied, jabbing his quill at his parchment in appreciation of his own cleverness. “It is much easier than attempting to secure it against other guests.”
“Will Their Graces be dining at the inns?” Lady Verr met his gaze unblinking when Miche gave her a hard stare. Sometimes she was shockingly direct for a Rose of Segoile.
“His Grace is unpredictable,” Miche replied repressively, which was all he was ever going to say to her on the subject of Remin’s meals.
She was thorough, he would give her that. She had considered everything down to the herbs and tonics they might need on the road, and then went on to speculate how they might best use the journey itself to their advantage.
“There are a few places we might pause on the way,” she said, examining their route on a map. “It would excite admiration and envy if Her Grace could speak of visiting the hot springs of Collume, or here, the alchemists of Metiche. It would be good if her anecdotes consisted of more than blizzards, plague, and stabbings. I suppose it is no accident we are passing through Lomonde?”
“They do remember His Grace fondly there,” Miche said dryly.
“It will excite talk on the way to the capital, which is all to the good,” she agreed, ignoring his tone. “It would be well if we carried silver sens for Her Grace to hand out. She is a child of the stars. The commonfolk will gather as she passes by, and cry for her blessing.”
“I already have,” Miche replied. “And we will not have much time to linger anywhere, but if you have orders you want sent ahead to the alchemists, I have a messenger leaving tomorrow.”
“You have been quite meticulous,” she admitted grudgingly, as if it pained her to approve him in any way.
“Well, I am not always a shame to my lord,” Miche drawled. “It will do Ophele no harm to have a few of those things so coveted by the dear ladies of the capital.”
