by Robin Owens
She didn’t know. Rolling her shoulders, she said, “I haven’t been downtown in Gael City for a while.” She grimaced. “It’s changed. Getting more ‘fashionable.’ Let’s walk.” An idea occurred to her. “No, let’s go check on my stridebeast.”
Raz thanked the viz techs and took the spheres they’d recorded, then followed Trillia to her dressing room. She stopped at the door and preened a little. “My first star.”
It was brass inset on an old oak door. He kissed her temple. “You deserve it.”
“I do.” Opening the door, she went to the dressing table and set Rosemary down, then Trillia stared at herself in the mirror, running her hands over her face to dispel the enhancement spells for her last scene. She fluffed out her hair and it turned from deep black to her natural midbrown.
“You didn’t tint your hair?”
“I didn’t want to. Thank you for arranging for the viz and smooth-talking the stage manager into it.” She gave a little sigh, put Rosemary on her lap, and swiveled on the stool to face Raz instead of meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I’m excellent in the part and I’d like those in Druida to see it. My Family, too.”
“It’s mainly for Nuada’s Sword.”
“The Ship.” Her teeth were very white when she smiled; she began to pet Rosemary. “Good for it. But my Family has connections, one of them will see it.” A small line etched between her brows.
“You’re frowning,” Raz said.
She smoothed her face out, but her eyes were serious now. “I know that Druida is where the action is, the best parts, where I should focus my career, but I really like Gael City. Well, not the city so much, but the . . . I guess you’d say the pace.” She shrugged. “Or maybe it’s the freedom. Things, circles, are not as stratified here.” She made a wavy motion. “It’s more fluid.” Inhaled deeply. “It would be easier to play different parts here, less typecasting. It’s just a question of how to handle my career. Staying here and being a big fish in a small pond or rising through the levels until I’m a star in Druida. Maybe a balancing act until I feel my reputation is such that I can jump back as a star. But I like being on my own, too, not always having to satisfy Family expectations.”
You need to pet Me more, Rosemary said since Trillia had stopped during her unburdening.
Trillia laughed and rubbed the tiny head with her forefinger. “You are precious, Rosemary.” She winked at Raz. “She is perfect for you and will be an excellent theater cat. I do like you, Rosemary, and Raz is lucky.”
Yes, Rosemary agreed.
“And I like Raz very much, too.” Trillia jumped to her feet and flung an arm around his neck and gave him a smacking kiss. “And I think your HeartMate is perfect for you, too.”
Twenty-nine
Raz froze. “HeartMate.”
“Del Elecampane. She’s a very nice lady and an excellent contrast in character to you.”
“She’s not my HeartMate.”
“Of course she is.” Trillia pulled back and looked at his frozen face. “Uh-oh.”
Of course Del is, Rosemary said, hooking her claws into Raz’s tunic and climbing up to his shoulder.
Dread washed through him. He’d known for a long time but hadn’t wanted to admit it, had willfully been blind to it. Now the words and confirmation were out from another’s lips—mind—and he could only deny it.
Trillia stepped back from him. “What’s wrong? She’s a great lady.”
“She’s eight years older than me.” It shouldn’t have continued to bother him, it didn’t . . . but it was the rationalization that sprang to his mind to keep himself from believing she was his HeartMate, the block he’d used.
“Really? She doesn’t look it. She’s in very good shape. And that’s still plenty young.” Trillia wiggled her brows. “And I’ve heard that older women only get better in bed. Certainly true of older men.”
Raz couldn’t prevent a flush.
“Interesting.” Trillia shook her head. “Del Elecampane.”
“She’s a GrandHouse lady.”
Shrugging, Trillia went to the screen in the corner and began undressing from her last costume of a ship’s uniform. Rosemary hopped down from his shoulder to explore the room.
Trillia said, “You’re the only son of a GrandHouse”—she peeked around the screen—“and from what I understand of the strata of nobles in Druida, in Celta, your Family is higher up the social scale than hers. Than my GraceHouse, too.” She ducked back, then came out in a comfortable onesuit a few seconds later.
Blackness edged his vision. Now that he admitted that Del was his HeartMate, bad choices loomed. His knees were locked, his hands fisted, and there was a distant panic that he was going to lose and the loss would be hard.
“What’s wrong?” Trillia crossed the small dressing room to a twoseat and perched on the arm.
Raz licked dry lips, stared in her general direction but didn’t meet her gaze. “Del Elecampane is a cartographer.”
Another shrug. “Even I know that.”
“A cartographer who is often on the trail. Always on the trail. Far away from Druida or any other city.” His chest was tight. He wasn’t breathing right. He settled into his balance and began a good cycle of counted breaths.
Trillia gave him a three cornered smile. “You could be a traveling player.”
“I haven’t trained for more than a decade to be a traveling player!”
Wincing, Trillia said, “Sorry, bad joke.”
“I will not leave Druida. I have my career to think of. I don’t want to leave Druida.”
“Plans change. Mine did,” Trillia said.
Raz opened his mouth, shut it.
“Good,” Trillia said. “I think you were about to insult me.” She came close and stared up at him. “Del could move to Druida.”
He meant to shake his head, but his whole body jerked, he was so stiff. He’d risen from his grounded balance and hadn’t even noticed. His body had betrayed him, after all the long training. Is this what he had to look forward to with a HeartMate? Being completely off balance? Again he softened his knees. “Del has problems in the city. She’s become pale, lost some weight.” Other things he hadn’t wanted to notice or admit. “She’s sleeping less, more restless.”
Trillia pursed her lips. “Just not a city person.”
“No.”
Her chest rising and falling with her own deep breaths, Trillia nodded. “All right,” she said with a calm that he never associated with her. She tilted her head. “What did you plan to do next with your career?”
Raz felt like he was standing on a narrow bridge spanning a chasm; either way he fell would be terrible. He pulled his thoughts together and spoke from cold lips. “Johns and I have discussed this new play of Amberose’s; we’re hoping—”
“A new play by Amberose.” Trillia clasped her hands and held them to her breasts. “Really?”
One more deep breath and he was on solid ground, wouldn’t think about it right now. Later. As he’d been putting off “later” for so long.
“Yes.” He eyed Trillia. “Two male parts, two female, I think.” He frowned. “But Johns knows better. We heard Amberose’s agent contacted Lily Fescue, too.”
“Lily,” Trillia said darkly. She flopped back down on the twoseat, captured one of the cushions to squeeze.
“Scry Johns,” Raz said. “Maybe, if we’re approached, we can drop your name.”
“Thanks.”
A knock came at the door.
“Who’s there?” asked Trillia, but Raz already knew. Del. He wasn’t ready to see her. He could call on all his acting ability to be “natural,” but both of the women—and his Fam, and Shunuk—would know he acted. So he had to be himself and right now he didn’t want to be with her.
“Del Elecampane,” Del said.
Trillia glanced at him, then said, “Come in.”
Del strode in with the hint of a smile on her face. “Have a good talk—” Her face closed down as she caught the mood
.
“We were just discussing Amberose’s new play,” Raz said as Shunuk came in.
“A lot of that going around.” She glanced at him.
Rosemary took that moment to leap onto Shunuk from the counter, he shook her off, and Del jumped and caught the flying kitten before she hit the dressing room mirror. She cradled the cat.
I got you, Rosemary said to Shunuk.
Shunuk rolled his back and ignored her.
“What’s that smell?” Trillia wrinkled her nose.
Del said, “Stridebeast. I have one stabled here.”
“Oh,” Trillia said.
The short glider trip from the theater to his Family’s place was taut with tense silence between Raz and Del.
Instinctively, he’d narrowed the bond between them. Shock and grief and anger had rolled through the thread from her. She was stiff beside him and had a mask on. Trying to hide her feelings from him, as he was trying to hide his own shock and fear and anger . . . and grief. They sat, nearly vibrating with emotions that they weren’t talking about. It might have been amusing if he hadn’t felt so wretched, for himself and her.
When they returned to T’Cherry estate, they got another shock. Straif was sprawled out in a large chair drinking good alcohol and three guardsmen awaited them—none of whom Raz had met before.
“What’s wrong?” Raz asked.
Straif looked at him, impassive. “I found your man.”
Raz tensed, then deliberately relaxed his muscles. “Oh?”
“Not good,” Del said quietly.
“Not really. He’s dead.” Tossing back his drink, Straif sucked in a breath, then stood. The guards did, too. “I’ve told these gentlemen as much as I know. I’m sure that the petty criminal was murdered by the other man. All the signs point that way. The other guy was the one in charge. Don’t know if he’s the person behind all this.” Straif’s nose twitched. “I’m inclined to think he isn’t. His clothes and his personal smell don’t quite match, like he lives in someone else’s House.”
Straif swept his gaze to each of them. “A noble house or even a Residence, but not one I know. Don’t think the victim lives here. He had the scent of Druida on him.” Straif stretched, a physical man limbering every joint in his body after a long day; Raz noted the movement for use in the future.
Then Straif’s deep blue gaze bore into him. “My trail lies in Druida City. I took the liberty of contacting T’Cherry and requesting a seat in the last express airship there.” He gestured to the guards. “These gentlemen want to talk to you, show you a holo of the dead guy.” Straif rolled his shoulders and there were a couple of pops, then he bowed to Raz. “Good seeing you again.” He glanced around and his mouth twisted. “Nice place.”
It was emptier than Raz—and his Family—liked, but the destruction was gone. “Thank you,” he said.
Raz saw from the flicker in the lord’s eyes that Straif had noticed he didn’t hold Del’s hand or have an arm around her waist. Raz thought the tracker knew to a millimeter the amount of space between them, sensed their tension with each other.
Straif prowled toward them, took Del’s hand, and lifted it to his lips in a polished gesture, a FirstFamily GrandLord gesture. “See you later, Del. You and Doolee have another appointment for your holo portrait in three days.” He sniffed. “Don’t come by stridebeast, that takes two weeks.”
“We leave tomorrow,” she replied coolly. “Raz is driving a glider back for T’Cherry by the new route through Fairplay Pass. Glider’s shorter than stridebeast, longer than airship.”
“Right.” Straif reached over and rubbed Rosemary between her blue gray ears. “Cute kitten.”
I AM! Rosemary replied and started her thin purr.
Straif glanced back at the Gael City guards. “My thanks for your help.”
The local guardsmen looked dubious.
“I’ll teleport to the Airpark.” Straif strolled from the chamber into the entryway, picked up a duffle, and ’ported away.
One of the guards cleared his throat awkwardly, holding a sphere. “Will you two look at the crime scene and body?”
Raz lifted Rosemary to meet her eyes. I think I heard a mouse in the main bedroom this morning. It should be out and running around by now.
His FamKitten narrowed her eyes suspiciously. You THINK?
“Yes.” He kept his face guileless.
She sniffed, commenting on his wish to get her out of the way. He stroked her from head to tail. She was just a baby and didn’t need to look at dead bodies . . . unless they were mice she’d dispatched herself. Without a sound she vanished from his hands and he heard a tiny thump from the MasterSuite.
Del had walked over to the guard, glanced down at the image in the sphere. “I don’t know him.” She frowned. “That looks like one of the fairground groves.”
“Yes.”
“We were near there earlier today, about WorkEndBell.”
“So T’Blackthorn informed us. You didn’t go into the grove?”
“No. We were on the fairground itself and the three western gliderways. That grove is to the east.”
Raz strode to the guard, held his palm up for the holo, braced himself. When he glanced down, he saw a strange scene in an eerie gray and white that revealed every detail of the night. He caught his breath at the sight of the body, a person whose life had fled, violently. The man was small with even features and a weak chin. He lay on his side and black liquid—blood—had pooled under him. His mouth was open slightly, his eyes, thankfully, were closed.
“How’d he die?” Raz asked.
“Knife. At about the same time the lights went on after Heart and Sword ended,” the older guard said.
Raz nodded, saw Del do the same. “I think I’ve seen him before.” Raz closed his eyes, forced away the afterimage of the body. Thought of the man alive and standing, moving. “It would be better if I’d seen him moving.”
“Dead don’t move much,” said another guard.
Raz shrugged. “I think he was one of the thieves at T’Spindle’s party who vandalized my glider. He had enough Flair to teleport himself and the other man away.”
The guard grunted. “Or enough practice.”
Raz opened his eyes and gave the man an edged smile. “That’s all I remember. You can contact T’Spindle about it.”
“We’ll talk to Winterberry, who is the Druida liaison. Leave it to us.” They all stood. “Thank you for your help,” the older man said. None of them offered their hands but turned and left the house with brisk solidity.
Raz poured himself a brandy. This little surprise had diverted him from the thorny problem of his HeartMate.
Raz had slammed a door between them.
Something had happened in the theater. Del didn’t know what it was, but now that the guardsmen were gone, they could deal with it. Trillia must have made some comment about her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
A lie and she didn’t think he’d ever lied to her before.
“You don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you, say so. Don’t lie.”
He lifted eyes that swirled with hot emotions that she couldn’t define, stood. “All right.” He bowed. “My apologies.” His jaw flexed. “Everything’s wrong and I don’t want to talk about it.” He went past her through the dining room and the kitchen; she heard him put the snifter in the cleanser. His voice floated back. “I’ll be sleeping in the blue guest room tonight; take any room you want.”
That stabbed. Her blood drained from her head and clamminess wrapped around her. Her gut churned with nausea.
He didn’t want loving, sex, closeness. Easier to tell her when he wasn’t looking at her? Not even in her presence?
She took a deep breath and stood in his way when he returned. He didn’t meet her eyes.
“You don’t want to be in my company? Fine. I’m not the one due at work in two days.” She lifted her chin, met his surprised gaze. “You and Rosemary go ahead in the glider.
I’ll pick up my stridebeast and Shunuk and I will ride back to Druida City. Doolee and T’Apple can wait. I want my mount in town, anyway. For the moment.” Until they headed out again on an empty winding road away from him.
Lady and Lord, she hurt. She didn’t know she could hurt so bad. She talked around the lump in her throat. She would not show him how devastated she was. She didn’t want to understand how devastated she was herself.
“You’re walking away?” No actor’s voice here; pure man, reacting.
She trembled inside. After a mental spell to keep herself from shuddering, she said, “Yes.”
The atmosphere sizzled between them, with anger and hurt, not passion. Raz’s jaw clenched and unclenched. He said nothing.
Del gave a sharp nod. “Right.” She turned on her heel and strode toward the door.
He caught up with her in three steps, caught her hand, lifted it to his mouth. “I’m sorry. Please. Don’t go.”
Even with the spell, she flinched, dammit!
He took both her hands, held them tight, spoke fast and husky. “I don’t want you out of my life. Not yet. Please don’t go . . . yet. I’m not ready for this to end now. I’ve hurt you and I’m sorry. I . . . I . . . care for you, Del. You must know that.”
She did, but she wanted more. She wanted everything. So much, too much. “Now”—he wanted to live only in the moment. She was once good at doing that.
“My lovely Del.” He opened the link between them and she was flooded with emotions overwhelming her. Sparkling yearning urgent need . . . his and hers.
She hung on to him as she strove to master the emotions clashing inside her, rocking her, only managed a whisper. “I won’t go . . . yet.”
He dropped her hands to grab her close and wrap his arms around her. His breath was ragged in her ears. “Stay with me, for now.”
She wanted forever. She shut out the future, croaked, “For now.”
They made love on the floor and later he carried her upstairs and they bathed and loved again. But after he’d fallen asleep, she was left empty and staring at the ceiling, contemplating a lonely, winding road.
