That was a fine note on which to end the night. Together, they deposited their horses in the stable and parted.
The golden warmth of the fire flickered in the solar despite the late hour, where Ophele and Lady Verr still sat togetherwhile Leonin and Davi stood guard. Remin was greatly relieved to see that there was no sign of tears on his wife’s face.
“Thank you,” he said to Lady Verr and the guards, dismissing them, and as soon as the door shut, he went to Ophele, crouching to kiss her. “How much tea have you had, wife?”
“Three pots.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I didn’t think you’d scold me just this once. Is everything…all right?”
“Yes.” He didn’t want her worrying. Genon said anxiety might make it more difficult for her to conceive. Rising, he transferred her from the chair into his lap, and felt better for it. “It’s not so different from what we have already been planning,” he said. “And it might amount to nothing at all. Juste said the Emperor might only wish to take our measure, now that he has gotten over the insult of having to give you to me.”
“It’s possible,” she agreed, letting her head rest on his shoulder. They fit so comfortably together. Stars, why couldn’t they just stay here? He hadn’t thought to ask that question, about what would happen if they refused the Emperor’s summons. Let the Emperor come here if he missed his beloved child so much. Would the Empire really march to war if they failed to appear, come spring?
There was so much to do. Juste would be coming early to discuss Ophele’s education, which would require many people to remedy, and Remin resented that they must confide such personal matters when evenhehadn’t had time to process Ophele’s revelations about her foster family. Forone dayhe had imagined the teachers he would hire for her, the library he would build, the gowns she would have, as fine as the Empress in Starfall. He could not undo years of neglect and abuse, but he could make a comfortable nest for his little owl, and let her sate her every curiosity.
There was no point in dwelling on the things he could not have, or raging at the injustice of it all. But it seemed every time he had a little peace, room enough to begin to dream, something happened to dash all his hopes. He had wanted so much to make it all up to her.
His eyes fell on the papers on the table beside them, and what looked like the beginnings of a map. He recognized the names of the streets, written in Ophele’s messy handwriting. She had been busy interrogating Lady Verr about the capital while he was gone.
Remin buried his face in her hair and tried to breathe.
They were safe. They were safe. They were safe.
He should not dwell on things that hadn’t happened. He would move heaven and earth if he had to, to protect her. And he could not afford to let her see him distressed.
“Come,” he said when he could trust himself to speak. “It is late, wife. It will be a busy day tomorrow.”
And they still had to try for a child tonight.
***
Ophele awoke to the same sensations that had put her to sleep.
A warm mouth. Gentle hands. Dim light glowed softly behind her eyelids and a moan escaped her before she was properly conscious, swimming through layers of sleep to find that her nipples were aching with arousal, and between her legs was a deep, slow throbbing.
“Remin…” she mewed, disoriented as her eyes slitted open to see his dark head at her breast, his lips and tongue plucking skillfully at her nipple. His fingers stroked between her legs in a gentle rhythm that made her feel as if she were floating.
“I wondered how long it would be before I woke you.” Remin’s voice was deepest in the morning, rumbling and sleepy. “Do you want more?”
“Ahhh—yes…” Her body arched as two thick fingers slid inside to find her very wet, her body rippling eagerly. Remin drew a breath.
“I woke up wanting you,” he murmured, shifting above her, the hard, thick length of him pushing eagerly between her thighs.
They moaned together as he slid into her, her body giving way in a heated, slippery stretch. He was so big, he had to angle her thighs upward to enter her fully, and even then it took slow and patient stroking before his hips finally pressed against hers. It felt as if he had filled her to her lungs.
“Is that—everything?” she gasped, and he laid his palm on her belly to feel himself there, drawing back and thrusting again.
“Yes.” His black eyes filled with a hungry light, and she cried out as his hips ground heavily against her. “You’re taking all of me, wife.”
“Do we…have time?” she panted, clutching his shoulders as he surged into her. “You said—today would be, ahhhhh, busy…”
“There is nothing more important than this,” he said firmly, and his hips rolled up and into her in that fluid, tireless rhythm that obliterated all possible thought.
She could still feel his ghostly, tingling presence inside her when they went to breakfast. Sir Justenin had brought a hamper of food up from the cookhouse and Ophele sat down at the table, feeling disheveled and unprepared for company. Remin had pounded her into a stupor and her brain was never really ready to grapple with the day before midmorning.
“My lady,” said Justenin, revoltingly bright-eyed. “Forgive me for disturbing you so early. In light of yesterday’s summons, I thought it best to begin straightaway.”
“That’s all right,” she said, suddenly wide awake.
“I have already spoken to Lady Verr,” he began, making Ophele offer a mental apology to the lady, who must have been awakened very early indeed. “If you are to learn the carriage and manners of a noblewoman of the Empire, then there is no one better to teach you. I propose that you spend your mornings with her, with additional assistance from Sir Leonin. He was raised in the capital and is considered an exemplary gentleman.”
