Heart Change Page 14

  But you could master the craft. You have—

  Do I? She held out her arms, waved them, flexed her minuscule muscles. My broadsword could not match yours, my skill could never match yours. I am sorry that you cannot teleport, but that is a skill some people have and some don’t, like all the rest.

  Cratag’s fingers flexed as if he wanted to be moving instead of pretending to be relaxed in a chair. “They think he will have only three major fugues and they won’t last too long. What is too long?” His jaw flexed.

  “Three seems to be normal, now.” Signet added a bit of soothing Flair she’d learned from her parents into her voice. “Too long would be more than a night . . . or a day.” She bit her lip, thinking of all the rumors she’d heard, and phrased her next question carefully. “The gathering of Flair and determining its aspects and freeing it tends to—ah—plumb the depths of a person, test one. If there are any guilts or concerns . . . they may be magnifie d and play a great part in Passage.” She thought of Avellana. Surely the girl would have only tiny negativities within her.

  Cratag stared at Signet and narrowed his eyes. “If you’re asking if it’s true that Laev wounded D’Holly with a poisoned blade years ago, that’s right.” Cratag’s voice was harsh. “But the entire Family worked through those consequences and the feud with the Hollys.” He smiled, and it was crooked. “T’Hawthorn brought in D’Sea, the mind Healer, to help us. Especially Laev. So, yeah, that may come up during Passage, but he’s a strong and reasonable young man. I don’t think it will bite him any more than any tough and stupid life-turning mistake does.” Cratag frowned. “But I suppose I should expect to see more shadows in his eyes next time.”

  “I suppose so, but he has others to help him, like we will be helping Avellana.”

  “You will be helping Avellana. I do not have the Flair.”

  Signet tilted her head. “I believe you have more than you think, and what you have is presence. And strength. You will be a rock I can count on.”

  They lapsed into silence, him still working ideas out in his mind, thinking things all the way through to conclusions. Signet was more accustomed to immediate decisions based on her emotions, a Family trait.

  “What of HeartMates?” Cratag asked in words she could barely hear but that definitely resonated. She felt herself flush and glanced at him, but he was looking outside to the waves rolling in against the headlands marching toward the north.

  She told him the bare truth. “HeartMates are usually connected with in Third Passage. I have heard that occasionally people can mentally touch each other in Second Passage if the bond is strong, perhaps if they are reincarnated souls. Vinni knows that Avellana is his HeartMate already—and don’t ask me how that happened—but Vinni T’Vine is a law unto himself.”

  “And you?” He still didn’t look at her.

  “I thought I touched my HeartMate during my Third Passage.” She tried a smile, but it felt brittle on her lips. “I believe I imagined that since he hasn’t shown up in my life.”

  Then Cratag turned his gaze on her, and it was powerful enough to stop her breath. Banked desire ignited between them. “You don’t think you have a HeartMate?” he asked.

  Was that another reason why he’d stepped back from her? “No.”

  “You aren’t waiting for him?”

  Had she been? She thought about it. “I did, for a long time.” She shrugged. “I let that dream die.” Along with so many others. “I don’t expect a HeartMate to come to me.” Another shrug, this time of one painfully casual shoulder. “Unlike mythic tales and new legends, no man has hunted for me. I am not the type of woman to inspire such dedication.”

  He stood now, moved toward her. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  Then he was towering over her, and she felt the air around her heat with passion from them both. She didn’t know what kind of relationship he wanted, didn’t care as long as she could stoke and share and release her own desire with him. Yearned to feel his large and calloused hands on her body.

  Yes, she is a beautiful FamWoman. Du trotted into the room. With one leap, he cleared the arm of her chair and landed on her lap. He wasn’t heavy enough for her to flinch, but he certainly broke the moment.

  Holding on to the shreds of it as long as she could, matching Cratag’s smoldering gaze, Signet felt her lips heat, her core liquefy. “Tonight,” she whispered.

  He dipped his head just enough, and grazed her lips with his own.

  Beadle swaggered into her view, sat on Cratag’s feet, and burped. Night is fun outside.

  The Residence chimed a tune notifying Signet of a scry, and she tore her gaze away from Cratag to look at the crystal bowl on a side table against the wall. “D’Hazel scries.”

  Cratag scooped the plump black and white Beadle up with one hand and retreated to his chair. Beadle settled into his lap with a purr.

  Signet wrenched her thoughts back to her duty and, holding Du, went to answer to the GreatLady who held her fate in her hands.

  D’Hazel had requested a report on the day, particularly any interaction between Laev HawthornHeir, who was known to have experienced a Passage fugue, and Avellana. Signet was glad she could truthfully say the two young people had not met or even seen each other. She spoke of the revised schedule and sent a copy to D’Hazel’s mail cache.

  As soon as she’d finished with D’Hazel, Vinni T’Vine called to heavily hint that he be invited to dinner. Signet complied, and though she was pleased the Residence was humming with happiness, she was feeling as if there were too many people and Fams around for her to do what she really wanted—to roll around in complete abandon on a bedsponge with Cratag. She had the suspicion that “complete abandon” with Cratag would not happen for many a day, but that she could anticipate some hot bouts of passion.

  Vinni—Muin, as Avellana continued to call him—arrived with his bodyguard Hanes in tow, who was persuaded to eat with them. Vinni had also brought his Fam, a female housefluff—a hybrid between an Earthan rabbit and a Celtan mocyn that proved that both Celta and Earth had the same space-faring ancestors. The fat fluff stayed close to Vinni, eating beside his chair, hair raised so she appeared like a big brown and white ball with large feet and ears. All the cats stared at her, and found her sadly lacking. Du and Rhyz stalked away from the creature with sniffs, and Beadle looked her up and down, licked her pink nose, bumped her with his body, and bounded from the room.

  After dinner the humans and the housefluff had tea sent from D’Hazel’s Residence and watched the spring sun go down on the ocean through the sitting room windows.

  Signet was amused at the lounging of two very large and male individuals in her own feminine room and their occasional scanning glances for trouble.

  Avellana brought the housefluff over to meet Signet. “This is Flora. She is Muin’s Fam and is very soft and pretty.”

  “And brave,” Vinni said, stroking the long ears of his Fam.

  “Not as brave as my Rhyz,” Avellana said loyally, “but brave.”

  Taking the white flu ff with brown splotches, Signet settled her in her lap and looked into big brown eyes. She stroked the housefluff and sighed at the Fam’s emanations of pure sweetness. Signet didn’t think she’d met a gentler, more loving soul, though she sensed a darkness in the housefluff that she finally identified as a lingering scar from emotional abuse. For an instant she was shocked, then realized that the darkness was before Vinni adopted her.

  The children stood near Hanes. Vinni was having a man-to-man discussion about spending the night since the weekend started the next day. Avellana leaned against the man’s knee and looked up at him with soulful eyes.

  Still petting Flora, Signet glanced at Cratag and saw his eyes blazing. With another trained guard in the Residence, Cratag could relax his vigilance.

  Desire . . . anticipation . . . wonder . . . swirled through her as she held his gaze.

  Then the houseflu ff made a soft sound and seemed to sink bone l
essly into Signet’s lap as if she finally trusted her. Cheeks warm, and not wanting to betray herself, Signet focused on the gentle Fam. She was not nearly as complicated a creature as a cat or a girl . . . or a man. Could Signet actually summon her own Flair and try to affect the dark smudge within the housefluff?

  Settling into her balance, Signet floated into a light trance and examined the smudge. Nothing she’d ever seen or experienced, even during the FirstFamily GreatRituals. She drifted to it and saw it was old terror and horror and torture. Flora flinched. Signet withdrew. She’d touched others’ trace energies who had tried to Heal the injury.

  She let a sigh at her inadequacy filter through her, though it didn’t make it to her lips. She rose from the trance to see that more time had passed than she’d felt. Cratag stood hand-in-hand with Avellana near the open, unshielded windows. Vinni was looking intently at Hanes as if speaking telepathically. Hanes stiffened, then gave the briefest of nods.

  “The ocean is so beautiful from here!” Avellana said. “These windows are perfect, all tall and with arches to look out of. Muin, do any of your Residence’s towers have such windows?”

  “D’Marigold Residence is unique,” Vinni said as he and Hanes sauntered toward the windows. Holding Flora, Signet rose and crossed to join the others. Not wanting to scare the Fam, Signet stopped a meter away.

  Flora said, Closer.

  Signet tightened her grip on the soft fur that suddenly seemed a little slippery against her palms. Accidentally killing a GreatLord’s Fam would be bad.

  Vinni grinned at Signet, then took the fat housefluff from her. “Flora isn’t afraid of heights, and she likes the wind flowing around and through her ears.”

  Asking a question that had occurred to her more than once, Signet said, “Do you prefer to be called Vinni or Muin?”

  “Vinni is fine.”

  “I will call you Muin,” Avellana said firmly.

  “And I’ll call you T’Vine,” Hanes said. He turned to Signet. “Do you mind if T’Vine and I spend the night? I believe there’s a suite next to Cratag’s—”

  “Yes,” said D’Marigold Residence. “There is a wall bed in the sitting room, and GreatLord T’Vine can have the bedroom.”

  “Sounds good,” Cratag said, his voice only a little husky. He didn’t look at Signet.

  We will use my bedroom, she said to him mentally.

  His jaw flexed. He nodded.

  “That is done, then,” the Residence said with satisfaction ringing in its tones.

  Signet wasn’t so sure. Vinni wouldn’t look at her or Cratag, and she didn’t think it was because he was shy about sex. More like he’d had a vision, and that’s why he wanted to stay.

  Fifteen

  Cratag’s trous got too tight as the evening progressed. Finally he and Vinni and Signet read to Avellana after she was tucked into bed. The little girl fought valiantly to stay awake but slipped into sleep.

  After that, he, Hanes, and Vinni walked through the Residence. Hanes seemed impatient with this, happy with the report by D’Marigold Residence on each of the rooms. Vinni had stopped halfway through at the craft room to look at Avellana’s holos in progress. Hanes stayed with the young teen, and Cratag continued with his physical check. He knew when the duo went up to their suite, Hanes checked it, then Vinni and his bodyguard fell asleep.

  Cratag was alone again, everything in the Residence silent. Now that he was without muted conversation, he burned.

  Even the fact that he knew Signet was meditating . . . could feel her meditating . . . didn’t help. He wanted her, but he was wary. She had a life here—a very different life than what he was used to, and today had taught him that being with Laev was important to him. Of course, Laev had visited today, and they’d trained in an excellent professionally fit ted salon . . . except for the hardglass mirrors along one wall. Then he’d taken a fall against that wall, and by the time he’d rolled to his feet even the smudge of his robe against the glass had been gone. D’Marigold Residence in action.

  He liked the Residence, so cheerful and respectful and humming to itself in satisfaction when it had fulfilled even a small request.

  Beadle loved it here. He had never known T’Hawthorn Residence.

  And why was Cratag’s imagination even forming hazy dreams of living here?

  Pure fantasy. Signet was a GrandLady with connections to the FirstFamilies. She moved in those circles with elegance and polish and sophistication.

  He’d never taken such a lady to bed.

  He groaned as he rounded back to the thought of Signet in bed with him.

  Once again he sent his mind reaching for hers. Once again he touched her with surprising ease. Colors he couldn’t truly see pulsed around her, energies he couldn’t comprehend. Great Flair.

  They were definitely from two different worlds that wouldn’t intersect for long.

  Du curled on Signet’s crossed legs as she sat in the middle of her meditation room.

  Time to stop playing around—though playing with Avellana in the craft room and Du and the other Fams in the garden had been good. And the idea of playing with Cratag curved her lips in a smug smile. Soon they’d play together, and she fig ured it would be the best playtime of her life. Her smile spread into a grin, and she wriggled her butt, just because it felt good.

  She began to breathe deeply. She must work on her Flair, so she could understand how her Flair worked—on her and on others, particularly others. Trying to casually send her Flair to help Flora hadn’t been effective. An ominous weight in the back of Signet’s mind told her that Avellana would need her own and Signet’s Flair during her Passage fugues.

  The thought of Avellana dying during Passage was horrible. Signet cared for the little girl more every minute and would feel deep and abiding guilt if Avellana died under her care.

  Not to mention the dreadful consequences of failing a FirstFamily. Despite what anyone said, Signet D’Marigold might as well move to a continent across the ocean as expect to have a normal life in Druida if she couldn’t protect Avellana. No one would trust her with anything else. The tentative inquiries regarding her Flair and prospective commissions would vanish in an instant.

  And she would have failed to save two lives, Avellana’s and her own. Signet swallowed hard. Her throat was beginning to close with fear and grief. Lifting and holding Du, she stretched to reach a cup of cool mint tea and sipped, put the beverage back. Du rubbed his head under her chin and purred, then dropped back to her crossed legs and kneaded them, purring.

  We will be fine. I will not have to leave My Residence.

  This time she swallowed a chuckle. “I’m glad you have faith in me.”

  Of course. You have lots of nice Flair. He stretched his skinny body across her legs and curled up once more. We will play with it now.

  Taking heart, she redirected her thoughts to the positive, an exercise she’d become familiar with in the last couple of years.

  She must become an active user of Flair instead of a passive . . . emanator. So she breathed deeply and grounded herself and sent her mind, her instincts spiraling down, down, down into the deepest part of her self, the spark that was Signet. Until she was in a dark blue space surrounded by sparkling fla shes of light . . . light of all colors of the rainbow that appeared like glittering and flashing dandelion seed balls. Spindly but delightful, pretty.

  Flair.

  Her Flair, in various colors and sizes. Just floating around having a good time. Partying.

  She needed the balls of Flair to work, so she tried to push them into a bunch, or a stream.

  That was futile. She tried to herd all the pinks together. Another failure, they refused to clump. Signet felt hot, flushed, thought she might be sweating and panting. Again she pushed mentally at the nearest, a pink. It floated gently against another pink, bounced slowly, slowly off, wheeled, sparkling merrily, until it hit a yellow, and they clung together. Their energy and light more than doubled.

  With an inner shout
of joy, she strained to push them at a blue or a white or a green or an orange or a purple or some of the darker colors she was beginning to sense, dark pulses against the midnight background.

  All this pushing was tiring. She became aware of her hot, damp skin and dragged in a large breath—and sucked the flashing puffballs to her. They zoomed to her.

  Gathering, not pushing.

  That realization was the breakthrough. She gathered them and arranged them in chains and patterns and loosed them to stream away. When she was tired of that, filled with success, she rested . . . and sensed the Flair outside her: the massive and ancient Flair of the Residence, powered and added to by generations of Marigolds, stretching back into the past and forward into the future after she passed on to the wheel of stars and her next life. For an instant she considered that. She loved the Residence, would like being a Marigold again in a future life.

  Would even like being a catalyst again, if she could master this talent and be more aware and confident of it.

  Of course, her next life wasn’t completely her choice. There was destiny to be played out, with nudging by the Lady and Lord. Vaguely she thought she recalled a pattern in the sparkles of her Flair before she’d gathered them together. She released all hold on them, and they floated freely, but already seemed more trained, more organized, not in the apparently random brilliance that her mortal and human mind could not comprehend. Not the arrangement of the omnipotent universe or the goddess and god.

  A warmth shifted on her legs, and she glanced down to see sparkles too pale to be named any color, i ll-arranged, some emotional hurt that had made him thin. Du. She stroked and tickled him until his Flair—flashing strongly—settled into a brighter flo w through his body, a lucent green. He purred, and the vibration went through her, and she felt the sensitive palms of her hands as his hair slid over them when she petted him.

  She let her senses expand to test the rest of the new guests of her household. Sent her mind to Flora, Vinni’s housefluff, first. Gentle waves of life lapped through the animal. She wasn’t very intelligent and didn’t have great Flair, but a fir st-generation animal Fam would lack those qualities. Humans and the other Fam animals had been breeding for psi power for centuries. But Signet could visualize Flora’s slight aura of pinkish Flair, with some of her lifeforce and magic clustered protectively around the dark smudge.