Maybe he should’ve thought harder about that, before he went about offering oaths.
***
In the very early morning, Ophele woke up.
She rarely slept through the night, unless Remin had exhausted her. Usually, she woke two or even three times, rising to re-stoke the fire or get a cup of water from the washstand. The brief foray into the cold made the warm bed feel so much nicer, and then she could crawl back into Remin’s arms and drop straight into sleep.
But this time there was a drowsy sense that something was wrong, and she lay quite still, listening.
Beside her, Remin shivered.
The shudder ran from his shoulders all the way down to his toes, and in the dim light of the fire, she could see the frown on his face, the rapid, pulsing twitch of the muscle in his jaw. When she lifted a hand to him, her fingers brushed his chest and then she laid her palm flat in surprise. His heart wasracing.
“Remin?” Was he having a nightmare? Tentatively, she patted him. “Remin?”
His shoulder twitched and he stiffened, his whole body going rigid as a board, and then his arms caught her and dragged her against him so hard, her bones creaked in his grip. Burying his face in her hair, he drew a long, deep breath.
“—mm-nnn?” He was crushing her face into his chest.
But maybe he was not awake at all. After a few moments, that crushing grip relaxed and the pounding of his heart began to slow. And then he was just sleeping, his face smoothing from those frowning lines, his breathing regular and deep.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked him the next morning over breakfast.
“Well enough,” he said, eating with his customary focus. “How about you?”
“All right.” Ophele watched him. Perhaps he just didn’t remember. “I dreamed about dresses. They were all too big.”
“You can always send them back if they are,” he remarked, one black eye flicking toward her, glinting with amusement. There was a tall stack of dress designs on the table beside them to choose from, some of them Lady Verr’s proposals, some of them Master Tiffen’s, and no way of telling which was which. It was like a test that would inevitably end in disaster. “You needn’t choose between them, wife. Just have them all.”
“All of them are pretty,” she conceded. It was not the worst problem to have. “You need new clothing too, husband. Don’t you get cold?”
The sight of his smile warmed her to her toes.
“I have my new cloak.”
“You’re going to get sick if you don’t dress warmer,” she warned, though it lacked conviction. It had been so difficult to get him to smile, lately.
“You may dress me however you like, as long as I don’t have to go see Tiffen myself. Magne has my measurements. I haven’t the time to spare.” And as if to prove this point, he inhaled the last of his breakfast and then rose to dress for the day, bellowing for his valet.
It was so good to have him home. Ophele listened contentedly as Remin filled the house with his shouting and thumping, the new timbers of the floor creaking under his weight. Magne’s querulous tenor answered in the hallway, where he customarily lurked until breakfast was over. The two men were developing an awkward but somehow sweet relationship; Remin really did try to let Magne do his job, and Magne took a great deal of satisfaction in producing a young lord that lookednice.
“My lady?” Lady Verr appeared in the door a few moments later, a neatly choreographed morning dance that placed Ophele in the hallway just as Remin was exiting his dressing room.
“Your cloak only works if it’s on,” she reminded him, admiring the thick black fur.
“Your guards only work if they are with you,” he returned. “I heard about you going to the stables by yourself yesterday. Don’t do that again. Go nowhere alone.”
“I won’t,” she promised, wondering who had tattled. It had been all of five minutes, going to fetch Brambles.
“Good. Edemir and Bram will be leaving midmorning, if you want to come and see them off.”
Lady Verr dressed her accordingly in one of her warmest wool gowns, plain red enlivened by black and gold ribbons. Master Tiffen was working furiously on her first gown but had prioritized a new cloak, satin-lined, with mink supplied by the furrier that was black as pitch and warm as toast. From the wintry look of the sky, she would need it.
There had been a great deal to look at lately. Even as Lady Verr marshalled Emi and Peri, Ophele realized with a start that the maids no longer wore aprons when they attended her, a measure that made it much easier to relax in their presence. Had Lady Verr done that? Or had Remin said something? Ophele herself had not realized it was the aprons that reminded her so sharply of Leise and Nenot, her maids back in Aldeburke.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, as they turned her toward the mirror. Still plain as a sparrow, but a very well-dressed little bird.
Leonin and Davi also bore watching. The two of them had been somewhat battered lately, and when they appeared to escort her to the harbor, Davi took care in mounting his horse, when usually he swung up light as a cat. Leonin had barely been using his left arm for the last four days.
