Heart Fate Read online

  “I think I’ll be going. I was down here earlier,” she said.

  He glanced at her. “I wondered if you missed people. I’ve only been out of the Family Residence a day and worked with many students, but the quiet of the Turquoise House was unusual.” Then he smiled. “When it wasn’t talking to me.”

  She managed a small smile. “That was an interesting story.”

  He bowed. “I’m glad it amused you.”

  “T’Yew Residence was very formal. I don’t miss it—or them—at all.”

  “Do you care to tell me of your day? It looks as if you worked on the gardens.”

  That he wanted to talk and made no move toward her helped. She walked closer, but remained out of reach. “I did. There’s a conservatory attached to a Residence.”

  “A Residence? I didn’t know that.”

  “I didn’t go in,” she said hastily.

  He looked at her oddly. “Why shouldn’t you?” His arm swept wide. “I think you and I are the only ones here, and I won’t be coming during the day.” He hesitated again, then said, “I was too tired last night, and we’d just met, but I need to know.”

  She stiffened.

  “Where do you go? Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  She hesitated, studying him, but he was here within the sanctuary. He could explore. “There’s a stillroom, and I don’t need help.”

  “Oh.” His brows dipped. They were as pale as his hair, but thick. “You’re warm enough? Safe?”

  She managed not to step back, said firmly, “I’m fine.”

  “Good.” Again there was a moment of silence. “You must tell me if you need anything I can provide.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  A sharp nod. “I understand about pride.”

  “And payment for favors.” Her voice was too harsh. T’Yew had never done anything from generosity or kindness.

  Tinne’s gaze met hers, eyes dark. He’d gone expressionless. “You think I’d demand payment for my help?” His laugh was equally dark. He flung out his arm. “We’re the only two here. That gives us a common bond.” His jaw flexed. “It’s best for people in a desperate situation to bury any animosity and stick together. That I know from experience.”

  Before she could ask for details, a graceful form leapt out of the night.

  Lahsin shrieked and jumped back, windmilling.

  Tinne lunged forward, caught her flailing arms, steadied her, dropped his hands from her, and stepped back before she knew what had happened. She looked at the huge cat who sat, tail curled around her paws, muzzle shaped into a smug cat smile.

  I am Ilexa, a Holly hunting cat, Tinne’s Fam.

  “You don’t look desperate to me,” Lahsin said, rubbing her arms. They seemed to tingle where Tinne had held her, not in a bad way, just in a new-person-touching-her way.

  Cats go where they please.

  Lahsin guessed so, though she didn’t have any more experience with cats than she did dogs. The dog. He looked desperate, scrawny with matted fur, protruding ribs, and a crippled leg. Tinne’s Fam was sleek and well cared for, as Tinne was himself on the outside. Lahsin still had fading bruises and the dog-who-was-not-a-Fam-or-companion was in worse shape than she. Ironic.

  She shivered.

  Tinne saw it, of course. She’d underestimated him all around, his speed, strength, vigor. Skill. She had second thoughts about the self-defense training. It was easy to think she could do it when she wasn’t face-to-face with the man.

  “Since I don’t see that stillroom, it must not be close. You’re cold and it’s dark. Are you sure you don’t want me to walk with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Still more afraid of me, or being in some sort of debt to me.” He bowed stiffly, and she realized he was angry. It had taken a while to read T’Yew—his cool expression and colder eyes. She sidled away. “Why are you angry?” she asked, as if it mattered. T’Yew had always listed faults she’d never recognized.

  Tinne flung up his hands. She flinched.

  He scowled openly, that was a relief. “You insult my honor.”

  “I’ve found Noble ‘honor’ to be very flexible.”

  Staring at her, he finally sighed. “I’m sorry for that.” His face altered subtly so it seemed less a mask, back to the mobile expressive-ness she’d already realized was normal to him. He drew himself up. He understood pride, he’d said, and she saw that now. He looked as proud as his Fam.

  “The Holly honor—” he stopped. “My honor has never been called into question.” Then the mask dropped back over his features. “Genista, my former wife, asked that I respect her wishes and end our hollow marriage.” The words tore from him, raw, and Lahsin regretted this whole conversation.

  “To confine a woman against her will goes against everything I consider myself to be, my personal honor. I suffered through the divorce tests and the divorce itself. Let her go.” His eyes sheened. “I think I can be trusted not to hurt you.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  He rubbed his face. “No, and you’ve been taught to fear men.” When he took his hands away his smile was sad and lopsided. “Your Family didn’t protect you as they should have.”

  She shuddered. “I won’t go back to them.”

  “Your decision, and I believe it’s the right one. I’m not thinking clearly tonight, so I should go. But we are both here in this place, Lahsin. We are both . . . Healing. I consider that a bond. All my offers stand.” He rolled his shoulders, met her eyes, and his own were back to a light gray. “It would make me feel better to know you knew how to take care of yourself wherever you decide to go in the future. You mentioned a stillroom, do you know how to use it?”

  Lahsin nodded. “My MotherDam taught me.”

  “If you make me a few bruise-easing tinctures we’ll trade.”

  She frowned, he must have massive resources.

  “Tinctures I can use when I am here, before and after soaking in the Healing spring.” He linked his hands together and stretched, let out a small groan.

  “All right,” Lahsin agreed. His openness prodded her. “My Second Passage is coming. I intend to ride it out here.”

  He nodded.

  “And I think I’ll spend the winter here.”

  “Good idea.” His eyes held questions, but he said nothing.

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Of course,” he said, no doubt in his voice and that buoyed her. He flashed her a tired smile. “Be off with you then, it’s too cold for you to be standing out here.”

  She ducked her head. “Merry meet.”

  “And merry part.”

  “And—”

  We are not alone here, Ilexa projected. She’d watched them with interest. There is a wild dog. A wolfhound.

  Lahsin had forgotten the beast. But she didn’t believe the dog would hurt her. She peered in the dark but didn’t see it or sense it.

  Tinne’s face hardened. “I can follow you. Or go before. You must have cleared a path.”

  “It’s crippled,” she said.

  His body relaxed. “Easier to defend against, though a wolfhound is a big dog.”

  “We’ve . . . talked. I don’t think he’ll attack me.”

  Tinne’s brows drew down. “It’s sentient?”

  It is starving and can’t catch good food. Ilexa sniffed, then she licked her paw. I did not eat much of the wild porcine I killed. Her shrug rippled down her back. He eats slowly, as befits a starving thing. Perhaps intelligent for a dog.

  “Best take precautions,” Tinne said. He went to the underbrush, pulled out a branch that looked torn from a tree. The length was about half a meter taller than Lahsin. With a few words and skilled fingers, he stripped the branch until he held a knotty staff.

  “You knew that was there,” she said.

  “I’m always observant of weapons. There’s plenty of makings for rough staffs around.”

  He held out the thick stick, end first. “Here, sturdy enough
to fight off a wild dog. There’s easier prey for him.”

  She hoped so.

  “Also thick enough to bash me in the head and take me down.”

  She didn’t think he’d yank her toward him, but hesitated.

  Shaking his head, he laid the stick on the ground, turned, and walked to the bench and his cloak. “Take it.”

  She did. The staff felt good in her hands. Would make an excellent walking stick for the rises and hollows of the garden. She set one solid end down on the ground. Her fingers closed around it, perfect for her grip. Had he chosen it for that purpose? The man was much more dangerous than she’d thought.

  “Merry meet again,” he said abruptly and vanished.

  Ilexa moved to four paws and stretched, keeping a bright amber gaze on Lahsin. The dog is little threat to you. But I am. Do not hurt My FamMan, or I will rip your throat out. She disappeared, too, as quietly as Tinne.

  Lahsin was chilled. Stupid cat! Lahsin had no intention of hurting Tinne Holly. She, capable of hurting Tinne Holly. Ludicrous. But she’d stayed too long in the winter’s night, she was cold, tired, and somehow more disenheartened than she’d expected to be after visiting with him. She shuffled back to her sterile nest in the stillroom.

  Tinne had the Turquoise House wake him early the next morning for his tour. The House insisted that he and Ilexa eat first, then cleaned the fine china. With Ilexa trotting beside him, Tinne saw every room, praising the House’s symmetrical beauty. Then Ilexa trotted off to the teleportation room and T’Holly Residence. There she’d be pampered and petted and fed another, less healthy, breakfast by Tinne’s Mamá.

  In the guest suite he looked at a wall mural depicting a bucolic view of Noble Country, with small images of the FirstFamilies Residences that were modeled after ancient Earthan castles: T’Blackthorn’s beautiful home, the long château of D’Elder, the island castle of D’SilverFir, T’Holly’s tall, grim castle . . . all houses with intelligence and personalities.

  “Turquoise House?”

  “Yes, Tinne?”

  “Do you have a HouseHeart? If you do, we might want to reinforce it. A Family will expect a HouseHeart.”

  The House didn’t answer immediately, and Tinne didn’t press it. Nor did he feel he had to declare his honor as he had to Lahsin. It had been vital that she know he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Finally, the House whispered, “Tinne, no one ever asked me that. But I do. I have a small hidden closet in the basement.”

  “Do you mind if I examine it?”

  “No.”

  So he went down to the cold basement, goose bumps prickling his arms under his shirt.

  “I can make the air warmer,” the House said and did so, directing him to the closet. Tinne opened the door and stared. There were a few round pebbles in the corner. He peered at them closely, caught the glint of gold flecks. “These are your HeartStones?” He was incredulous. “Amazing you’ve developed so far with only these.”

  A pebble glowed. “Thank you,” the House said.

  Tinne swallowed. He hadn’t meant it as a compliment. “Uh, greater Flair is developing in humans, probably in Residences, too.” Narrowing his eyes, he studied the back of the closet. “We could make a hidden passage and chamber, move your peb—HouseStones.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to do that. Better ask Mitchella D’Blackthorn.” He waved a hand. “Tell her to consult me regarding the cost.”

  “Yes, Tinne.”

  He closed the door, set his hands on it, and crafted the best spellshield he could—mediocre—and walked back up to the teleportation pad.

  “Wait, Tinne!”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve spoken with D’Blackthorn!”

  “Ah.”

  “She is going to ask the Councils for a research grant to pay for my needs! I will be famous!”

  “You’re already famous.”

  The walls took on additional color, and Tinne knew that outside, the place was bright turquoise.

  “Thank you. You’ll be reimbursed for the actors and moles.”

  “Moles?”

  “D’Blackthorn thinks that moles will be best for tunneling.”

  This was getting complicated. “Moles. Right. Good.”

  The House lowered its voice to a thrilling whisper. “There will be a secret tunnel and HouseHeart. I will trust you to move my HeartStones.”

  “An honor.” He bowed. “Now I must go to work.”

  “I have much to do today, also. I will be busy!”

  Tinne figured it had been bored. “Ilexa will probably return. You can entertain each other.” Without waiting to hear what the House might say to that, he left.

  The next morning Lahsin awoke in the stillroom. She thought the dog had spent the night in a corner of the conservatory.

  She was warm—no, hot. The flush of incipient Passage was on her, and her body seemed to vibrate with Flair. She couldn’t think of a better time to stretch herself in all ways and check the spellshields of the walls of the estate.

  The north wall was closest, but she was most concerned about the curving wall, especially by the Healing pool. Those spells must be the best.

  It would be fascinating to understand how the estate spellshields worked—letting in those desperate souls who needed sanctuary.

  Her stomach growled, and she went to the counter and the bowl holding the few nuts that had escaped the wildlife and looked good to eat. She cracked them with a Word. Dry and hard.

  Then sunlight slanted into the room, lighting it and illuminating the wooden counter. She stared at the rough tracing of a name on the wood. “Shade lived here.” The murderer.

  Sixteen

  Whirling, she mentally probed the estate. Surely she’d have felt lingering evil? She frowned. There was no terrible twisted darkness left behind by a murderer. She sniffed and smelled the same pleasantly clean, slightly astringent fragrance as ever.

  Shade had killed the highest Nobles of the land, Ladies and Lords of the FirstFamilies Council. Everything she’d heard about him tinted him as an evil villain. He certainly had changed her own life when he’d killed Yew’s first wife.

  Lahsin touched the counter. No emotions remained. The garden let in only the desperate. Perhaps Shade’s acts had been those of a man riddled with despair. Hadn’t he been the one sole survivor of a psychically linked triad? That would warp anyone.

  “Be at peace,” she said as she traced his name. “May you rise above your tribulations in your next life.” She felt a frisson along her spine. Whatever had spurred Shade’s actions, his next life wasn’t likely to be pleasant. It occurred to her that T’Yew might not like his next life, either. A man who’d abused great power. No, she didn’t think he’d be pampered next time around.

  Not that he was a very spiritual man. He probably didn’t believe in the tenets of their faith regarding other lives, since he acted as if there would be no adverse consequences of his actions. When had he last been thwarted? Lahsin frowned. There had been a lot of stomping around and acid asides between T’Yew and Taxa last year about the new upstart T’Willow. Since Saille Willow seemed to have prospered, neither T’Yew nor his daughterHeir must have been able to do him harm.

  But whatever they’d been angry about must not have been very important, if they were forced to let it go. Or they’d convinced themselves that the matter wasn’t important.

  The clock in the tower on the far side of the building clanged the hour, and she came back to the need to plan for her future. Food was going to be a problem. She had the old trail meal she’d found in the Summer Pavilion. Lahsin secretly hoped that Tinne Holly would come back, along with Ilexa, and the cat would hunt for the dog.

  Now she was being ingenuous. The cat didn’t like her or the dog. The dog would distrust and hate the cat, especially if it provided him with food because he was too crippled to hunt. The cat might do that just to gloat and act superior.

  Even with only four beings occasionally on the estate, connections a
nd relationships got tangled.

  Not four, five.

  There was the Residence.

  She had to enter the Residence on her own terms, not by force or its grudging generosity. Most were formidable. T’Yew’s could have killed her. She wasn’t sure what, if any, spells constrained a Residence against harming its Family. She’d never been Family to T’Yew Residence and certainly wasn’t here. But she was tired of being a victim.

  That left negotiation. She was willing to clean and care for it . . . heat flushed through her, signaling that Passage would soon be coming. She needed a safe place to stay and would feel better inside a large Residence. If her Flair was for spellshields, she could offer the Residence a valuable service.

  She took a step, then a hot tide had her grabbing for the counter, leaning against it, dizzy. When her mind stopped spinning, she was torn between getting into the Residence and being safer or satisfying her curiosity about the estate’s spellshields. She pushed away from the counter and staggered. Her vision was off, showed wavy auras, as if her eyes looked through an atmosphere of Flair. She shook her head, breathed deeply, crossed to the door, and reached for the latch. Sparks rose from her fingers as she touched the metal.

  How best to use this Flair?

  She stepped outside and the fragrances of a winter garden—cold earth waiting, freezing air wrapping around bark—came to her, but more, too.

  An odd, unusual scent. Flair. Strong and strange. Her nose twitched. Spellshield scent. Her feet made her decision, carrying her to the nearest wall, the north city wall. She couldn’t make it to the wall beyond the Healing pool.

  Hurrying now, she slipped through brush and trees. None of them scratched her, but seemed to slide off her skin. Interesting. Some sort of personal spellshield? She’d gone off without her cloak, yet she didn’t feel the cold. Her blood pounded hot in her head and hands. Personal spellshield including a weathershield? She’d never heard of anything like that.

  T’Yew had kept her in ignorance. She giggled as she lifted her fingers to push back a springy bare branch and sparks rose from them, singeing the wood. More nice smell. That wasn’t right, hurting a plant that had done her no harm. She stopped, bobbled a curtsy. “Beg pardon,” she sent to the small tree. Then had to grasp the small trunk to stay upright. She sent a rush of tenderness to the tree. Thank you.