“Whether you are or you are not, my lady,” said Lady Verr pleasantly, “this is an excellent time to practice appearing so.”
It was noon before the Duchess of Andelin was finally permitted to do what she wanted to do, which was go outside and see Azelma. She excused herself and headed straight downstairs, forgetting all about the blizzard until she was out in it, with Leonin and Davi hurrying after her and objecting with every fiber of their beings.
“My lady, please let us go fetch her. You want to see Azelma, right?” Davi was loath to actually obstruct her. “I can bring her up to the solar—”
“She is seventy-two, she should not come out in a blizzard.” But Ophele had had no notion what a blizzard would be like herself; she could barely see two feet in front of her, and she was wading through it up to her shins, dragging her train in her arms so it would not be completely ruined.
She had to talk to Azelma. But she didn’t know what she was going to say. The two possibilities were irreconcilable: either Azelma had looked after both her and her mother all these years and was deserving of eternal gratitude and a comfortable retirement, or she had done something so awful that the only punishment could be death.
No. Ophele did not believe it.Reminmight be suspicious, but he suspected everyone, all the time. She would not do that. It was a terrible way to live.
Deaf to Leonin and Davi’s protests behind her, she waded over to Azelma’s cottage and knocked on the door.
“Azelma?” she called. “It’s me, I hope you’re all right.”
“Your Grace?” Azelma’s voice was muffled from inside the cottage, and a second later the door cracked open and there was her face, wrinkled as a winter apple. “Bless you, child, what are you doing out there in the snow? Hurry and come in before the hot air goes out.”
Ophele ducked inside and defiantly shut the door behind her.
“Are you warm enough in here? Did they bring you breakfast?” she asked as she slipped out of her cloak. She was half-frozen, colder than she had ever been in her life, and her fingers and toes burned unpleasantly as they thawed.
“Quite warm, as you see. Sit down, silly girl, what under the stars are you wearing?” Azelma scolded, bustling about the small space to put a few more logs on the fire and a blanket on Ophele’s lap.
“It’s a ballgown, I must practice wearing a train,” Ophele explained, feeling foolish. She knew just how much work it must have taken, embroidering all the feathers on the bodice, and she might have ruined it in the cold and wet.
“I suppose you must, at that.” Azelma’s lips folded together and she rose and went to the hearth. “Let me put the kettle on. This is what you meant about your lessons?”
“Yes, they are all teaching me to dance, and oratory, and all about society. The Emperor sent a summons, you see…”
This was a sudden test of everything she had learned, from the management of her expression to the examination of the elderly woman sitting beside her. Because there was only one thing Ophelereallywanted to say, a question that scalded the tip of her tongue, an impossible, impulsive, foolish outburst:did you poison my mother?
But what could Azelma say to that? Either way, she must deny it, and she would be hurt, terribly hurt, that Ophele could think such a thing for even an instant. Looking down at her hands, Ophele prattled on about all the things she was learning to hide her anger and confusion, attempting to employ the lessons in diversion Justenin had been teaching her.
“…but that’s not why I came to see you,” she said, accepting the teacup and spooning in a bit of sugar. “His Grace…His Grace went to see Wen in the kitchens this morning, to see if he would like your help. The manor kitchen won’t be ready fora while yet. And of course, you needn’t do anything at all,” she added anxiously. “But if you like, then you can, that’s all. If you want.”
“No, my lady, I would be happy to be useful.” Azelma patted her hand. “You know, I had no notion of coming here to run your kitchen. I will be pleased to bake, or help this Wen fellow, or pluck chickens if that’s what’s needful. Wen of Tallford, you said?”
“Yes. He shouts a lot,” Ophele confessed. Guilt was overriding anger. “He—it’s because he is protecting Remin’s food, you see…”
“He must be a proper guard dog,” Azelma said, and almost made her burst into tears on the spot.
“Oh, he is, I have heard him tear strips off people…”
It was only after the tea had actually passed her lips that she froze. For a single instant, she nearly spit it back out. And then she was appalled with herself, and angry with Remin for putting such a terrible thought in her head. Did she or did she not trust Azelma?
Deliberately, Ophele took another sip, letting the taste coat her tongue. It tasted like any other tea. She didn’t know what she thought yet. She did not have a solution to Remin’s problem. But she knew that Azelma would nevereverhave poisoned her mother.
“I am perfectly well, and Adelan is a thoughtful fellow, so don’t mind about me,” Azelma said when Ophele rose at last to leave. One of the logs had burned through in the fireplace, and Justenin would be returning soon for afternoon lessons.
“Well, you will tell me if you need anything,” Ophele said, taking Azelma’s hands and careful of her knuckles, which had always been knobbled and swollen from the hard work of the kitchen. “I do still want to visit you.”
“You’re a princess, and a duchess, for true now,” Azelma said gently. “You can’t be consorting with the cook.”
“Remin…Remin said we can do what we like in his valley,” Ophele replied, struck with a fresh wave of confusion, and submitted to being bundled up in her cloak and pushed out the door into the wrathful arms of Leonin and Davi.
“My lady, you will excuse me,” Leonin said tightly, lifting her off the steps with the swirl of an additional cloak that covered her to her sodden slippers. Ophele did not have the nerve to protest as he carried her through the swirling snow toward the front of the manor, with Davi’s stiff, angry back marching ahead.
***
