Heart Sight Read online

  With a sniff, she swept ahead of him along the corridor to the door—the only inner door to the chamber that she had a key for and would open to her, and that gave Vinni some satisfaction.

  He caught up with her to see the room dazzling bright with the circling of three sunlike lightspells. The near-white wood of the new furniture gleamed along with the nap of emerald velvet cushions.

  He hesitated as he passed a new teleportation pad. Which hadn’t been in the chamber when he’d left that morning. He gritted his teeth, felt the pressure, loosened his jaw, and pasted on a false smile. He glanced at the cabinet timer. Couldn’t talk too much or they’d be late for dinner.

  Bifrona hadn’t seated herself but stood rigid-spined. Continuing to smile, not even baring his teeth like he wanted, he moved closer than she liked because she had to look up at him significantly.

  “I—we, the Family, have a request.”

  “Oh?”

  He understood that the weight of Family expectations always burdened the Head of a FirstFamily household if they had more than a few members of that Family. The greatest example of that had been the implosion of the Yew Family three months before.

  She wet her lips. More nervous than she pretended to be. “We wish for you and Avellana to lead a First Quarter Twinmoons Ritual four nights from now.”

  He froze, raised one of his own brows. “You do not give me much time.”

  “There are many, many”—and doubling her words up like that also betrayed her anxiety—“First Quarter Twinmoons Rituals that a member of a FirstFamily knows by the time they are thirty like you or twenty-four like Avellana.”

  “I see.” Yes, his Family tried to constrain him, but more, wished to put Avellana in a nice, safe box where she’d be stuck being the GreatLady they wanted her to be. Anger surged. The hell with that. He’d—they’d, Avellana and he would—beat them at this particular game, as with any other requests that would limit them. “Very well. Is that all?”

  A long pause, then Bifrona replied in a starchy tone, “Yes.”

  He got the idea she’d just started but wouldn’t reveal other requests or suggestions or whatever yet.

  He flicked a hand at her, which she didn’t like. “Then I’d best start such arrangements, shouldn’t I?” He paused, met her eyes. “Since it is my and Avellana’s ritual, you will await instructions as to the candles, songs, and food we will require.”

  Bifrona hissed out a breath, but he just stared at her.

  “Yes, T’Vine,” she grated out, then whisked to the door and opened it without another word.

  As she left the chamber, Arcto, Vinni’s former tutor, entered. Bifrona sniffed and inclined her head in the exact amount of courtesy due him.

  Though Bifrona had ruled the house and staff, Arcto had guided Vinni in his interactions with the other FirstFamilies . . . unless Vinni escaped him. In those early years, he’d been watched constantly by Arcto and his guards.

  But in those early years there had also been hope that one of his female relatives would achieve an acceptable Flair during her Passage to be his heir. Hadn’t happened.

  A tall, thin, elegant man with hair and eyes the same color as Vinni’s own, Arcto closed and locked the door behind him and slanted a look at the new furniture in the room. His upper lip lifted in disdain. “I heard that Bifrona redecorated this area for you.” His turn to sniff. “Furnishings from Clover Fine Furniture.”

  He’d always been a snob.

  “They’ve always been a good, solid value,” Vinni replied. “And since Walker Clover became the first GrandLord thirteen years ago, the company established a new, top-of-the-pyramid-quality line.”

  Arcto’s turn to sniff. “Walker Clover only became a GrandLord due to his Flair—”

  “Of course—”

  “And the fact that his mother is not part of the middle-class Clover clan, but a Heliotrope.”

  “Ah.” Vinni shrugged. He’d been an honorary Clover for a long time, though now that he recalled, Arcto hadn’t accompanied him to many of those boisterous get-togethers. “Well, Walker married into the FirstFamilies, and Trif Clover’s husband is now Captain of the Guards of all Druida City. Children from both of those HeartMate unions are showing great Flair.”

  Arcto speared his fingers through his hair and gave Vinni a lopsided smile. “You’re right, of course. We progress, as a people and a culture. Since I taught you, and continue to teach our Vine children, I tend to emphasize history and the past.”

  “You prepared me well for the future.” Vinni clapped him on the shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

  “I have heard that Avellana finally returned to Druida City, and I want to remind you that I am on the Family list for one of her murals in my suite.”

  “She’s busy right now, but I’ll remind the Residence—”

  “And Bifrona, who is also on the list, but after me,” Arcto added with a sharp smile.

  “—everyone, of the list, including Avellana.”

  “Thank you, Vinni.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  With a nod, Arcto vanished.

  Well, the second request had been easy, at least. As for the first . . . Vinni let out his own breath on a slow sigh but found his lips curling. A perfect reason for him to see Avellana.

  He extended his senses and found her already seated at dinner with her Family, happy and pleased. He considered going to her after his own dinner . . . but that would end late and he’d only have a few minutes with her before her schedule had her retiring to bed.

  She had blocked him when he’d begun to walk in her dreams last night, wanting her.

  These nights without her wore on him.

  • • •

  He didn’t sleep well and woke the next morning grouchy. The time Vinni had spent without Avellana had passed too slowly for him. Occasionally he had tried to be in her presence—with others, to see if his allies did watch out for her, and they did—but Avellana avoided him and did not speak to him if they happened to meet.

  He’d gotten tired of that—all right, he wouldn’t lie to himself, even if he did finesse the truth in his career—he craved her company. Always had, probably always would. And as long as he faced very unpalatable truths today, he’d acknowledge that he always feared for her, not only because of his love, but because he’d be lost without her. Truth, he could not envision—ha!—a life without Avellana.

  So, since it had been a good five days since he’d seen her, and he now had the excuse he needed to speak with her, he went to where she spent most of her time nowadays, the Cathedral of the Intersection of Hope.

  He paused before the northeastern door of the Cathedral. This particular wing of the equal-armed cross was dedicated to the spirit of wise maturity, the eldest reaching the end of his journey. Vinni murmured a prayer to his own deities, the Lady and Lord, that he and Avellana would survive to become such elders.

  Opening the door, a rush of cool air mitigated the summer heat enveloping him, and the fragrance of sweetgrass, myrrh, and cedar incense wafted out. He trod down the corridor, widening his inner bond with Avellana—one that had snapped into place a year after she’d been born and he’d been seven. His current hypothesis about that unusual bond and other unique facts of his life was that they had occurred due to the nature of his Flair—it had been fully powerful since his birth. He’d had no dreamquest Passages.

  He’d reached the center of the cross and circled outside the most holy ground of the altar, then headed toward the meeting room of the four Chief Ministers, where he sensed his HeartMate to be. A few paces from the room, the polished paneled door opened and Chief Minister Younger shot out, emanating joy, nearly skipping. The twenty-year-old man grinned, stopped, and said, “Hey, Vinni!”

  Vinni inclined his torso, a bow due to a FirstFamily Lord or Lady, the High Priest or Priestess of his o
wn religion. “Excellency. Greetyou, Chief Minister Younger.”

  The youngster laughed, his head tipping back. “Nope, I’m not a Chief Minister anymore, thanks to Avellana. It took her three meetings with us, but I’m free. Free of that responsibility!” He shot a look over his shoulder. “Or I will be soon. But no more meetings, at least. Later.” He trotted away, leaving Vinni blinking and wondering what name he’d call the young man if they met again. He didn’t know.

  The other three ministers exited the room more slowly, looking more than a little shell-shocked . . . each man staggered. Behind them, Avellana, lovely in bright blue, walked with a spring in her step, appearing self-satisfied with an underlayer of determination.

  She’d been very determined of late to order her life and anything that bothered her. Apparently she’d tackled what she considered the gender problem of the Chief Ministers.

  What she’d do next, Vinni didn’t know, but a hunch had invaded his bones that his plans to keep her discreetly observed and safe headed toward hers on a collision course.

  He didn’t know who’d win the battle of wills.

  Rather exciting when he wasn’t apprehensive about her. And their relationship. The whole damn mess.

  Avellana’s expression smoothed into impassivity when she saw him.

  He nodded to his love, then moved toward Chief Minister Foreman—representing adult vitality—who supported the elbow of Chief Minister Elderstone. Vinni took Elderstone’s other arm.

  “I am fine,” the old man said in a crotchety voice.

  “You’ll be better after we have refreshments,” soothed the slightly-older-than-middle-aged Chief Minister Custos, the symbol of the guardian spirit.

  Elderstone stopped and drew himself to his full height, taller than the other two, as tall as Vinni. His piercing blue eyes fixed on Vinni. “Is there anything we can do for you, GreatLord T’Vine?” he snapped.

  Vinni stepped away, bowed. “Greetyou, Your Excellency. I am here to offer Avellana a glider ride home.”

  Snorting, Elderstone said, “Good luck with that one.” Then he made a short bow to Vinni and took off in the direction of his own office at a more sprightly pace.

  The other two ministers nodded at Vinni, then followed.

  Avellana raised her voice and called out, “Go in peace; may you journey to the center and find your joyful self.”

  Vinni had heard that ending blessing before. He watched.

  Three backs stiffened. Three men pivoted, irritation showing on their faces, at themselves rather than her, he figured.

  As one they bowed, Chief Minister to a member of their congregation, and they said in unison, “Go in peace; may you journey in the light.”

  Avellana curtseyed to them. Vinni bowed and said, “The light is great. It’s a beautiful summer’s day.”

  Without any more speech, they turned back, walking with less stiffness, reminded of their faith and the solace it could give in trying times.

  Vinni pivoted toward Avellana. He’d intended to bow deeply over her hand and kiss it—he ached to touch her—but she’d tucked her arms in the opposite sleeves of her long tunic.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I couldn’t stay away from you.”

  She tilted her head as if listening past the amusement in his tone to winnow the truth. He thought she had heard his veracity because she frowned. She continued to walk around the altar and toward the tiny volunteer rooms, and he kept pace.

  “It has recently occurred to me that you use your voice very well.” She glanced at him. His turn to be expressionless. “Sometimes you wrap the truth in what sounds like a lie . . . And I have heard you shade the knowledge of what you have seen to guide someone in the direction you think they should go.”

  “You’re a very perspicacious lady.”

  “I just know you,” she replied simply. A wash of love, tenderness, affection flowed through him.

  He wouldn’t be unmanly enough to clear his throat, so he spoke through the husk. “I’d like to see the progress you’ve made on your holo murals here. And take you home.” He wanted to savor this time with her before he brought up the ritual thing, which would be problematic.

  Maybe she wouldn’t agree to do that with him, or would dislike the option he’d thought of on the way here.

  Avellana sniffed and said darkly, “I told you last week that I am not leaving again at your request. This fourth suggestion.” She paused. “Because, you know, you very often did not request.”

  So much for not being confrontational.

  He replied, “Very true. I convinced your parents that you had to leave the city for your own good.”

  Her back stiffened. “Do you know how much I loathe those words?”

  “Have an idea, yes. Especially since our little discussion about you staying on Mona Island.”

  She still didn’t turn around so he could talk to her face-to-face, look into her eyes. Her gliding steps became more of a march.

  “As I said before, I will never ‘go there, come here’ at your bidding again. Never.”

  Before he could analyze that deeply, she continued, matching the staccato sound of her steps with her words.

  “I am not five years old anymore. I am not threatened by the Black Magic Cult.”

  The sentences hung in the air, seemed to bounce back from the stone to hit his ears. “Please don’t send negative energy into this lovely place.” He dropped his hand. “I do want to see how you’ve progressed on the Cathedral holo murals.”

  She sent him an inscrutable glance over her shoulder. “Do you?”

  “Yes.” He stopped, to see how far she’d walk from him, how annoyed she might be. After three meters she halted, swung on her heel, facing him with a scowl.

  “I remain irritated with you, Muin.”

  He strode to her and this time he caught her hand in his own, kissed the back of it, and she let him. They stood there in silence in the cool Cathedral, with light spearing through the high windows, aching for each other.

  “Oh, Muin.” She sighed out the words. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Anything you want,” he murmured.

  Seven

  His beloved raised her brows at his extravagant answer but withdrew her hand and went back to his lesser declaration. “You want to see my three-dimensional holographic murals?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She passed him, walking back to the intersection of the cross with her usual graceful stride.

  The door closest to the walls of Druida City opened and the scent of summer grass wafted in, along with a grouping of footsteps and a guide’s voice. “Thank you for allowing me to show you the new Intersection of Hope Cathedral . . .”

  They both looked back the way they’d come, but Avellana didn’t stop, and that told Vinni that his viewing her work was important to her. As important as it was to him to see it.

  When she reached the center of the Cathedral, the junction that the Intersection of Hope cherished, she gestured to the opening of the southeastern arm. “This is the mural I have been working on the most.” Above their heads, a three-dimensional holographic image of a near-translucent being appeared.

  “We continue to discuss the representation of the guardian spirit,” she said in that colorless voice he loathed. Better she rail at him than use the emotionless voice that meant she’d fought and lost too many battles. “Currently it is androgynous and without wings.”

  “What would you prefer?” he asked, figuring out that arguments with the Chief Ministers had put that note in her voice, not him. Good. Anyone but him.

  “I like that the guardian spirit figure in the mural can be seen as a male or female. I prefer androgynous to hermaphroditic, a person with sexual characteristics of both genders. Some of the Chief Ministers want an image of a hermaph
rodite.”

  “Huh,” Vinni said. Though he could claim an acquaintance with each one of the men because they were important to Avellana, he didn’t know any of them well. Certainly not well enough for him to guess who favored a hermaphrodite.

  Avellana sighed. “I will be adding breasts and a penis to the image soon.” He knew that tone, too. She’d delay as long as humanly possible.

  “But it appears like we might add wings. White feathered wings.” She gave him a satisfied smile.

  “White feathered,” he repeated.

  “Like depictions of ancient angels. Not bat-type wings.”

  “Oh.”

  “I like the idea of angels. It is very comforting to think of evolved spirits, even if it is not part of my religion. But the guardian spirit is equally comforting, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Mingled, undefined talk rose into the heights of the Cathedral, diffused into the atmosphere.

  “This is my mural of the guardian spirit.” She projected her voice so the newcomers would hear.

  Vinni smiled; she deserved all the accolades and compliments that anyone could give her, especially since she couldn’t practice her deadly primary Flair, and she’d made this secondary artistic Flair her main outlet.

  He stepped up to her and put an arm around her waist, let out a quiet breath that she allowed this, and allowed the connection between them to stay at the usual strong width and depth. “Gorgeous piece of work,” he said, in equally loud tones. The quick patter of footsteps came as visitors hurried up to them.

  He thought he knew most of the members of the Druida City Intersection of Hope, and recognized the guide. The rest of the group appeared to be lower-Noble-class tourists. In the two years since the Cathedral had been built of equal-sized rectangles and different from the Celtic round temples, visitors had flocked to see it. Vinni thought much of the gilt collected by this location of the religion came from tours of the Cathedral, though he wasn’t rude enough to voice that particular insight.

  Avellana kept the first holo showing, then triggered the other three, one for each arm of the cross, each showing the soul on the Journey that resonated so much with her as a belief system. Deep, intense colors, a fascinating mythological depiction of each of the stages of the journey, tore oohs from the visitors.