He felt her weariness in mind and body and spirit and longed to go to her. But he was wary of pushing his suit too quickly and too hard. Instead he closed his eyes and savored her touch. Sent a wave of compassion, respect toward her. Her surprise jolted through the silkeen of the bag she’d made. Penetrated to his HeartGift and then came to him in the connection between their two creations. His lips curved. She sensed him. He opened the link wide between them.
She snapped it.
Ten
Uhn!” He couldn’t prevent the groan. He’d have fallen if he hadn’t already been lying down. His mouth dry, he swallowed, but gained no relief. Opening his lashes, his eyes slowly focused, and he saw the bar across the room, the crystal brandy decanter. With an out-flung hand he ordered, “Drink!” The glass stopper lifted, teetered, fell to the bar, then the floor. Liquid poured from the carafe to a snifter, the snifter flew into his hand. Lifting his head, he drank a few mouthfuls, felt the punch of it—as hot as his continued desire, as hard as the pain of her rejection. Why did he think he liked the stuff?
But it cleared his head so he could tamp his emotions, the rejection,and think. She hadn’t thrown it into the street this time, to lay in the cold and be kicked or scavenged and dropped somewhere else, to circulate through the whole damn city. It was still in her rooms, in some shielded receptacle.
Progress.
Paws on his ankle. He looked down. Cat walked up his leg, settled on his stomach, purring. You have treated Me well. You may call me Myx.
Progress, there, too. Scratching behind the cat’s ears, he said, "ResidenceLibrary, please recite the HeartMate Laws regarding HeartGifts.”
“The HeartMate must accept a HeartGift willingly and withoutknowing it is a HeartGift ...” the Library started. The voice of the Library, as the Residence, was now male, rich and rolling with an archaic accent—the very first T’Willow? When Saille had moved in, the tones had been female, what he thought was his MotherDam’s voice when she’d been younger. She’d been egotistic enough to have all the personas of the Residence speak in her voice. Saille grimaced. He couldn’t imagine living here for a long time, completely surrounded by his MotherDam. When he’d requested that the ResidenceLibrary and Residence recall and speak in the last male voice they had in their memories,the rest of his relatives had been startled but pleased at the change. He noticed they listened more, now, as if they’d often disregarded the previous admonishments.
But the ResidenceLibrary had stopped, and Saille’s mind had been wandering. He had not been listening. “Please repeat,” he asked.
“The HeartMate must accept a HeartGift willingly and withoutknowing it is a HeartGift before the other can claim them as a HeartMate and HeartBond with them. The punishment for telling a person they are your HeartMate is that the offending party must always be chaperoned while in the presence of the HeartMate—”
“Stop. I don’t intend to tell my HeartMate who I am.” It wouldn’t be necessary. She still had the HeartGift. Locked away, perhaps, but still with her.
“Let’s explore this HeartGift acceptance business. How long must the HeartMate keep the HeartGift until it is considered accepted?”
There was a pause. “I do not fully understand the question. One presents the HeartGift, the mate accepts it or not. No other options are recorded in my memory.”
"Ah. I see.” Nothing about a HeartGift circling around the city. He shuddered at that image, what he’d done, but he’d had no choice. He wondered if his action had been unique, as Trif Winterberry’s had been, forming a charmkey and going house to house.
“Residence?”
“Here,” a slight change in the man’s tones, as if he were younger.
“Connect me with the Ship Nuada’s Sword, and SupremeJudgeAilim Elder. I have a matter of law I wish to consult her about.”
"It is nearing RetireBell.”
“But not quite yet. Connect me.”
The Residence seemed to sigh, and Saille smiled. His Mother-Dam’s previous parameters had been far too stiff and formal to allow the essential entity of the Residence to reveal personal characteristics. He thought the Residence itself welcomed the change. And that made him feel good.
“Ailim Elder here,” said a young woman.
To Saille’s surprise, a wooden panel in the wall of his ResidenceDenslid aside, revealing a glassy screen that showed the SupremeJudge. He jacknifed up, caught off guard, far too casual,lolling on a sofa.
Myx hissed and jumped off the couch, disappearing under it.
“Pardon me.” Saille stood, straightened his clothes, and bowed toward the screen. “I’m not used to the screen.” More used to scrybowls that formed an image in misty water droplets above the bowl.
She just smiled and nodded. “You have a question?”
“Yes, a consultation request, top gilt to be paid—”
“Call me Ailim and just ask, Saille.” She rolled her eyes. “No payment, no favor for favor. Ask.”
“Ah. The HeartMate Laws.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Oh, something interesting, excellent.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’d better explain from the beginning.”
“Always a good thing,” she said, then she disappeared as a little girl burbled in the background. Lifting her child up, she said, “Dani Eve, this is GreatLord Saille T’Willow.”
“Greetyou!”
“And you,” he said.
“Not someone new. See you every week.”
“Almost,” Saille said.
Ailim frowned. “I didn’t know that.”
“I visit my MotherDam,” he said stiffly.
The judge’s expression went impassive. “Yes. D’Willow.” Her lips tightened. “I try to forget she’s a guest of the Ship’s.”
Dani Eve waved both hands. “Later!”
“I’ll see you later,” Saille said.
The small girl kissed her mother and climbed down from Ailim’s lap, and now the judge was smiling, even when she turned to him, eyebrows raised.
He cleared his throat. “When I assumed the title I found that my MotherDam had hidden my HeartMate from me—”
“That can be done?” Ailim’s eyebrows dipped.
“Only by one with great Flair in matchmaking.”
She nodded. “I’ll check the laws. I think that should not be allowed.”
He shrugged. “I want my HeartMate beside me.” Too many things had been withheld for too long, and he wanted the life he’d imagined for so long all at once.
Ailim nodded again.
Bracing himself for her reaction, he said, “I’d suffered through my third Passage last year and connected with my woman, sensed she was here in Druida, made my HeartGift. Two months ago I sent it out with a minimal spellshield to circulatethrough the city—”
Her breath caught audibly, and her eyes widened, but that was all. Well, the lady was a judge, used to keeping her thoughts behind a mask. Yet she covered a little cough with her hand and met his gaze. “A risky business.”
“Had to be done.” His voice was harsher than he liked. He followed it with a charming smile.
Ailim tilted her head in thought. “A risky business.” A cornerof her mouth curved upward. “Difficult for you, I’d imagine,but more discreet than a charmkey.”
“That never occurred to me.”
“Just as well. I can’t see a FirstFamily GreatLord walking the streets, searching for his HeartMate.”
He glanced down at himself. He wore clothes of the finest materials, imbued with Flair to keep them clean, modify the cut if fashion changed in a small way. But when he’d come to town, he’d worn commoncloth, looked like the bumpkin he was. He had walked the streets of Druida with complete anonymity. “In any case, I sent my HeartGift out to draw my lady—or be drawn to her. She found it within a few days, then it was lost again.”
“My sympathies.”
“Recently—tonight—she found it again. She senses what it is, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But she has kept it. Locked away behind a shield, but kept it—”
“For the moment.”
“Yes,” he said.
“She may or may not send it wandering again after some thought.”
Oh, the lady was a judge, all right. He ignored her last statement.“I would like to know how long she must keep it in her possession in order for it to be considered that she has legally ‘accepted’ it.”
A small line creased between Ailim’s brows. “I don’t know the answer to this.” She looked at him for several seconds, then continued slowly, “But I think the HeartMate laws must include some obscure clause to deal with the fact. They were crafted by the fifth generation after the founders, and the fifth generation did like their laws.”
Saille read her narrowed gaze. “I don’t intend to enforce the letter of the law.”
The judge eased a little. “It would not be right, since it is not in common usage.”
He’d heard some FirstFamilies say the judge was too merciful.He’d thought it was continued grumbling for the events regardingher husband five years ago. But it wasn’t, it was her personal character. He didn’t know if he liked that or not. Probablyonly when the mercy applied to him. “I do not expect to enforce the letter of the law,” he repeated carefully.
“But you might use it to exert a certain . . . pressure.” Ailim sighed. “It’s what any man would do, let alone a GreatLord.”
He managed a stiff nod.
“I will study the HeartMate laws thoroughly and get back to you on this matter.”
Saille suddenly wondered if he’d made a mistake. If there were laws that clarified the rights he had as a HeartMate, there were bound to be other obscure laws that protected his woman. But he’d already set the SupremeJudge on her course, and she wouldn’t be deflected by a “Never mind.” So, instead, he said, “Thank you.”
Once more she fixed her gaze on him, and he kept from shifting uneasily. It was a weapon, that gaze. He’d heard she was telempathic. Let her sense his emotions, his desire, his need for his woman, his lover, his HeartMate. He didn’t care that she knew his blood coursed swiftly through his veins, that his palms damped when he thought of Dufleur and claiming her—by fair means. He’d had enough of his MotherDam’s capricious injustice in his own life to be scrupulously fair.
Apparently he passed judicial scrutiny, for Ailim smiled. “May I ask who your HeartMate is?” She raised a hand. “Sheer curiosity.”
“Dufleur Thyme.”
Again his words sent expression to her face, surprise, sympathy.“Your MotherDam spent some time and energy vilifying her father’s name.”
Saille’s jaw tightened. “I know that. Another of her schemes to keep Dufleur from me, I believe.”
“I observed D’Willow in action. Very carefully stated rumors.” Ailim lifted and dropped her shoulders. “Very nasty, but they didn’t illegally harm D’Thyme and Dufleur. And the newssheets interviews could not be called libel, so there was no action to be taken.”
“Just hurt her in immoral ways. Emotionally,” Saille said flatly and stopped.
With an inclination of her head, Ailim said, “I should be able to study this matter and scry you with the information tomorrow night. Ship, end—”
“Wait, one moment.”
“Yes?”
Saille stood straighter. “I am uncomfortable asking favors I don’t return. I have been in your husband’s, Ruis’s, company quite often over the last few months.” And he never got used to being with the Null who stripped his Flair from him. “Being what he is, you can’t know whether you are HeartMates. If I give you a personal reading, I could determine this. I am T’Willow,my matchmaking Flair is strong, but it isn’t the sole tool I have at my disposal for my craft.”
Ailim was smiling again. “Ruis and I are very content in our marriage.” Her cheeks pinkened, her fingertips touched her flat stomach. “In fact, we are expecting another child. This one I think will be Flaired.”
“My congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Once more she stared at him, then her smile widened, and she said softly, “But I think this reading of yours, and any good results, would be a lovely gift from me to Ruis. Why don’t I deliver the information personally tomorrow after evening bell?”
“Why don’t you and your Family join mine for dinner?”
Her eyes widened. “A very generous offer. Do you coerce your relatives into breaking bread with two Nulls?”
Like his MotherDam would? But Saille shoved the thought away. “My relatives are predominantly women.” As he was sure Ailim knew. “But I think they’d be avid with curiosity to meet you, your husband, and your daughter.”
Chuckling, Ailim said, “It’s done then, a dinner date betweenthe Elders and the Willows. Ship, note the appointment.”
“Yes, ResidenceLibrary—”
ResidenceLibrary said, “I have placed the dinner and appointment on a calendar sphere, which the household will consult in the morning.”
“Merry meet,” said Ailim.
“And merry part,” Saille replied.
“And merry meet again—tomorrow.” The glass screen turned dark, and the panel covered it again.
He stood there, in the low glow of lamps shining on rich surfacesof wood, highlighting the jewel tones of the rugs and furniture.All this was his now. Slowly he turned to gather in his good fortune. The plants behind the wall of the conservatory— bespelled against condensation so an occupant, no, he could see into the glasshouse—glowed green with health and pretty flowers.
This was his.
He had proven himself T’Willow. Already was carving himselfa place in the strata of the FirstFamilies culture. He wouldn’t have thought to attend the social season if Dufleur hadn’t been doing so, but it was another milieu where he could learn of the men and women of his own class.
A small click came, then his mother’s voice from a different part of the house. “Saille, you’re still working? We purchased D’Holly’s latest composition, I think you’d like it. Shall I set it to play there?”
Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes.”
Wafting strains of powerful music filled the air around him.
“It’s lovely,” he said, knowing his mother still listened.
“We all think so. I have noted the dinner with the Elders, and we are excited. We haven’t entertained in ages. We’ll do the Willow name proud.”
“You already have.”
Her breath sighed out. “Thank you. I’ll tell the others you said so.”
“Please.”
“Well, we all have things to wrap up before morning,” she ended briskly.
“Yes.”
She hesitated, “Don’t work too hard. You’ve had a full day.” “Thank you. I’m fine. I love you.”
“I love you, too. We all do. Good evening.”
“Good evening. Blessed be.”
“Blessed be.” Her voice vanished, and the music continued to lilt. He was smiling. Fiercely. This was his life now. And he’d fight to keep it if his MotherDam ever revived.
Striding to the bookshelf, he took the last three large volumesof the journals and set them in a stack on his desk. Then he put his hand atop them, gathered his Flair and commanded, “You will open to me. I am T’Willow, and all the records and journals are mine to read and evaluate. Dispel. Unlock. Open!”
The books flew out from under his fingers, spread themselveson the desk—chronologically. Pages flipped open on the earliest to where his MotherDam had bespelled it shut. The covers of the other two opened.
“Thank you,” he said, then felt a little silly addressing the books.
With a firm step, he circled the desk and sat, pulling the first book toward him, and began to read.
A few minutes later he shoved back from the desk and poured another, larger, drink. Gulped it down. Sat again.
He stared at the words in the Family business journal. Bright red, they seeme
d to blur and move upon the page, though he knew it was his eyes and the horror that coated his stomach like the cold sweat on his body.
Eleven
Saille’s gut clenched. The last decade of her life, his MotherDam’s Flair had been erratic. The last few years it had been gone—he didn’t know why, only that if he wanted to learn the reason he’d have to do a full day’s ritual in the HouseHeart, the core sentience of the Family Residence.
That wasn’t what concerned him. He ran a shaking index fingerdown the list of the people she’d matched, saw the prices she’d charged and no notes as to how the couple would suit. Not like the beginning of her section, when she’d inherited the title at seventeen. Those pages—and the pages of her predecessors— held long notations about what divination tools were used in a Reading, the ritual done, the results of the ritual, and the descriptionof what the Reading determined about each person. Sometimesa holo was attached to the journal, showing aura patterns.
Just as he’d done with his own consultations—the few he’d done in the country and those since he’d taken the title here in Druida.
But in the last six years there was only the list with a few words.
She should have retired ten years ago, when he’d been nineteen,but she couldn’t bear the thought of a young man taking her title and her status and her power, as she’d taken her mother’s, and banished her mother to the very estate he’d grown up on. That had been in a brief, savage margin jotting.
He leaned back in the comfortchair, wiped his face with a softleaf. Luckily her fees had been so great that she hadn’t had many clients. One free consultation to earn her yearly NobleGilt,to the first person to present himself or herself at the FamilyResidence upon the New Year as was customary.
One client to earn her NobleGilt. It echoed in his mind. Her Flair had been so very well respected. Two months ago at New Year’s, Saille had scheduled seventy free consultations over the year to fulfill his duty for his yearly stipend from the NobleCouncil.
Cave of the Dark Goddess.
He took a swig of brithe brandy, but it didn’t have the jolt to stir his thoughts. He could cross to the bar and get some whiskey, but his knees might just be too damn weak. She’d matched couples. He shuddered. Given marriages approvals though she had no idea whether the unions would be good or not.
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