Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

“Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t agree so quickly.” Now his eyes crinkled and he was less the sexy man she’d awakened and more her good friend, looking amused.

  “Whatever you like.”

  He laughed, and she had to take a step back from the scrybowl it was so potent: flashing white teeth in a pirate’s grin, a crease beside his mouth, his eyes pure blue with no hint of gray. Zow. All these new thoughts about Ilex!

  “All right.” His gaze grew speculative. “Or rather, let’s try a little something. See if you can teleport to the lobby landing pad. I’ll meet you there shortly. Fare well.” Her scrybowl went blank.

  Trif curled her toes in anxiety as all her doubts zoomed back. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself before Ilex. But she wanted to be able to ’port anywhere. And this was her first test. Such a short hop. Were short hops supposed to be easier or harder? She couldn’t recall and there wasn’t time to look it up in the instruction sphere.

  I believe I can teleport to the lobby, she mumbled, and began the breathing pattern that would raise and focus her Flair. She sent her mind reaching to the landing pad to see if the safety light was on. It was. She formed a mental image of the room, added sunlight, thought how it smelled in the morning—lavender-fresh from the housekeeping spells, recalled the atmosphere—people rushing to work. “On three,” she said. “One, Trif Clover; two, I can do. Three!”

  Just as she said the last word, Greyku wandered in from the bedroom and Trif ’s concentration broke.

  She ’ported to the pad and landed unevenly.

  A couple of people clapped, and she flushed deep red as she stepped off the pad, flicking on the light. As she met her neighbors’ eyes, she realized they were genuine in their appreciation. There were very few middle-class people who could teleport. She sent them a wavery smile. They nodded and hurried out the front door. She glanced around for Ilex, but didn’t see him.

  Greyku’s yowl echoed down the hallway. Trif didn’t know if she heard the scratching on her door in her ears or her mind. Stop that! she scolded the kitten.

  You left without Me. I want breakfast and want to come with you too.

  Trif saw a shadow in the hall—Ilex. Had he seen her wobbly landing? He tilted his head, then turned and walked back, past his own door and on to hers. She heard whispering in her mind—Greyku and Ilex? She thought so, didn’t hear the whole conversation, but did get a sense that Greyku was trotting into the kitchen to get her own breakfast, purring.

  Ilex came down the hall with a loose-hipped stride she hadn’t noticed before. He moved with utter confidence and command. He was a guardsman, a hunter, a fighter, and she was just realizing how powerful he was—not just his Flair, but his aura of authority.

  She tried to look casual and smiled. He smiled back and her insides did a funny twinge thing.

  When he came up to her, she said, “Merry meet.” She didn’t often use the greeting, but somehow this new view of Ilex demanded it. He was a Noble, after all, even if he was a second son.

  He bowed. “Merry meet.” He went to the light and turned it off, stepped on the landing pad, and held out his hand. “Ready?”

  Her breath was a little fast. “For anything!” she said, and he blinked.

  “The beach first?” he asked.

  She stepped onto the teleportation pad and cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  He linked his arms around her and she became overwhelmingly aware of his masculinity, the spicy scent she associated with him. She hadn’t felt like this before, noticing his maleness and her own femininity.

  “Give me the image of the beach,” he said.

  It was the same tone he always used, but she could barely think. Focus! She thought of the beach, where they’d been last night. How it would look in the morning light. More, as she breathed, she considered the scent of the ocean, a whiff of the docks around the bend. Then she layered on the atmosphere, how it felt. Not crowded. Some people walking. Couples. Like her and Ilex. She formed the image using all her senses for detail, not just sight. The wash of the surf.

  “Excellent,” Ilex murmured, and the warmth of his breath teased her ear and was another diversion. She tensed.

  “Easy,” he said.

  “Yes,” she breathed out. Gathered her Flair, her courage. “On three. One, Ilex neighbor; two I can do; three!”

  The force of their leaving pushed her back into him for an instant—just enough for her to feel a very aroused man against her backside.

  She lost the image, grabbed at it, failed. Darkness spun around Trif, an eerie black whistling nowhere.

  A quick image from Ilex flicked into her mind, and they materialized with a whoosh into the center of the Great Labyrinth, miles north of Druida City. A beautiful, mystical place.

  Anger emanated from the man behind her, showed in the white knuckles of his fists.

  “Ooops,” she said, but didn’t turn to face him. Her heart raced and hot blood pumped through her—from revelation and excitement. Ilex found her sexy? Visions of them frantically exploring each other on a bedsponge filled her mind.

  His hands dropped from her and he stepped far back, out of her immediate aura. She stifled a sigh.

  “Do you know how dangerous losing focus is?” he asked in repressed tones.

  Of course she did. It wouldn’t stem a lecture, though.

  “If any portion of you, one neutron, materialized into a solid object, you’d be trapped. If more than a small amount of you ’ported into—say, that wall over there…” He gestured to a pretty, quite solid stone wall about ten feet from them. “You’d die. Haven’t you ever heard of Four-Fingered Pete?”

  “Everyone has heard of Four-Fingered Pete,” she said lightly, cocking her head to listen to Ilex, still not turning around. He cared for her. He’d been worried about her safety. But she couldn’t get the feel of him out of her mind.

  She tingled at the memory of his long, solid erection settling into her bottom. She wished she dared to reach back….

  His hands clamped on her shoulders and spun her around.

  Yes, his brows were lowered, his mouth thin. Drawing on all her control, she kept her gaze from wandering down to the front of his trous.

  “Do you think this is a joking matter?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, unobtrusively bunching her tunic in her fists to keep from stroking his face. She could allow herself to admire him now since she knew he found her attractive too. She forced her expression into solemnity. “I was distracted and lost the image. I’m sorry.” She thought she heard him grind his teeth. To test herself—and him, she said, “Perhaps you are reconsidering your generous offer to teach me to ’port.”

  “No,” he bit out. “I promised you.”

  And he’d always fulfill a promise.

  Since she couldn’t touch him, she ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it. There was sweat at the roots and a breeze had picked up that would dry it. His glance followed her hand, lingered on her hair.

  “Trif, you can’t be distracted.”

  What could she say to that? She firmed her lips. “I under stand.”

  He exhaled slowly, his wide chest barely moving under his brown shirt. Her glance wanted to drift downward. She yanked it back to his impassive face. Clearing her throat, she said, “At least my Flair wasn’t fluctuating. It was solid.” Along with a certain man. “I think I’ve found the channel to keep it in during ’porting.”

  “That’s progress.”

  She looked around the Great Labyrinth. She hadn’t been here since her best friend’s wedding. “So why are we here?”

  “The Great Labyrinth is an excellent tool.”

  Her turn to frown. “For grounding yourself. I don’t have that problem. I ground fine.”

  He waved to the winding path. “Look at it. Think about it.”

  Her frown deepened and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She let her eyes unfocus, but not enough to trigger her Flair and see the past. The Great Labyrint
h was in the middle of a crater and the path out rose steadily, circling around until it reached the rim, which was the horizon here at the middle. It was a beautiful place, both naturally and because NobleHouses had raised small shrines showcasing their Families to decorate it. The Vines had erected a grape arbor, stone benches, and bottles of rare vintages. The Birches had planted a lovely, swaying grove of their name trees. In the grove was a small altar and on it were small curls of birch bark for prayers. A few feet away was a pond where the birch spells could float—only three did.

  Since her family, the Clovers, weren’t Noble, they had contributed nothing. If they had…she could imagine a green of nothing but clover rising to the rim, a beautiful green bowl. She smiled.

  “Trif?”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you want me to figure out?”

  “Because then you won’t come to the conclusions on your own.”

  “I’ve never been one to think that what you work for is more valued than what you get free,” she said, knowing he believed that implicitly.

  “But my telling you something instead of you deducing it is a lesson easier for you to forget.”

  Now he was wrong there. Looking back, she’d always paid attention to whatever he’d said. She probably could repeat word for word every conversation they’d had. Too few conversations, too few meetings for neighbors living within a few doors of each other, she now realized. She eyed him more closely. “Have you been avoiding me?”

  For the blink of an eye he looked startled, and she knew she was right. “Why?” she asked.

  “We don’t have many things in common.”

  She didn’t like that response. She’d have to think about it, and his physical reaction to her, but later, when she was alone. She studied the labyrinth again, nibbling on her bottom lip. “When I was in grove study, I think I remember that some of the simpler labyrinths look like an apple.”

  Ilex nodded, and his face subtly relaxed.

  “But this one is more convoluted.” She cudgeled her memory. “Like a—a brain.”

  “Rather like. More circular. But all labyrinths have been made to affect the brain. Or Flair.”

  “Or Flair,” she repeated on a breath, looking at the long path to the top again. “You think that if I walk this, I might be able to channel my ’porting Flair better if I concentrate on it?”

  “You might even be able to master your Flair, steady it into mental pathways as you tread the physical path.”

  “Hmmm. Good idea.” A spurt of happiness at his caring fluttered her blood. She smiled at him and offered her hand. “I’ve heard that no matter what your mastery of Flair, how much Flair you have, walking the labyrinth is good for you.”

  He didn’t take her hand, and rapidly moved from the center clearing under the tall ash tree to the beginning of the path out. “It’s not as if you can do anything else,” he said. “The spells on this place only let you teleport in, never out. Come along. Let’s see what results it might have on you. When we reach the rim, you can teleport us to the pad in MidClass Lodge.”

  A thought struck her. What was Ilex doing in MidClass Lodge? She narrowed her eyes as he took a few steps along the short straightaway leading out of the labyrinth. “Why do you live in the Lodge and not your Family Residence?”

  His shoulders tensed. But when he answered, his voice was casual. “I don’t get along with D’Winterberry.”

  She crossed to the beginning of the path with long strides, and decided to press the matter. “What’s her relation to you?”

  “My mother.” He didn’t even glance back at her. “No more talking now. Think about your Flair, how to regulate it, channel it, carving a deep path for it to flow through your mind.”

  Trif really didn’t like that particular image, but she began a breathing cycle and as she walked the curving path she let her mind drift, her Flair rise. She fell into a rhythm. And around the sixth curve, she lost it. Her aura spiked, she saw it blaze in front of her.

  When it receded, she saw the past. The morning sky was the same. Everything else was different. Even the scent—a harsh acridity came to her nostrils and her nose twitched the odor away. Instead of a well-worn trail winding gently up a slope, bedecked with little Family shrines, she saw the rough soil of a newly made crater. Layers of sediment showed raw in the sunlight. The rim wasn’t smooth and worked, but ragged with sharp edges.

  Trif couldn’t see the path, couldn’t feel it under her feet. She lost her way. There was nothing but bare ground. She turned in place and noticed a huge piece of seared metal in the center of the space. Movement caught her eye. Two figures walked to the rim and stared down. A man and a woman. Waves of strong emotion smacked her, whirled her under. She crumpled with a cry.

  Eleven

  Feeling came back to her first—she was being held in a comforting embrace, her bottom on a warm lap, her legs stretched out, her back cradled by a strong arm.

  A damp, herb scented, smooth cloth—silkeen?—caressed her face.

  “Come on, Trif. Open your eyes. It’s safe.” Ilex’s voice was quiet, soothing. As steady as the man himself.

  Trif made a little sound and tried to burrow deeper. His supporting arm tightened around her, then released. “Come on, Trif, we still need to get out of the labyrinth.” This time his voice was cooler, with a note of command. Oh, yes, he was a minor Noble. And a guardsman.

  Sighing, she opened her eyes and met his. They immediately went from soft to sharp and darkened into blue-tinged steel. He slid her from his lap onto a cool stone bench.

  She looked around. There was a table inlaid with gleaming strips of wood and atop it some cut cheese and fancy crackers. “What’s this?”

  “The Caraways’ contribution. It was the closest. What happened?”

  Lifting one shoulder, Trif reached for a slice of cheese, put it on the cracker—it fit perfectly, Ilex being efficient as always—and popped it in her mouth. She handed another treat to Ilex.

  After she swallowed and drank from a cylinder of springwater, she said, “My Flair spiraled out.” She grimaced. “I couldn’t control it, and I had a vision.” At least it hadn’t been violent.

  He stilled beside her and again his eyes met hers. “Like we had last night?”

  She grimaced. “Yes.”

  “A very interesting experience.”

  Heat crept up her neck, fired her cheeks. “I should have apologized before now.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Not necessary. So,” he said a trace too casually, “you have some sight. Do you foresee?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t see the future, I see the past.” She scanned the portion of the labyrinth she could see. Before her, the path was set with crushed rock the color of charcoal. Dotting the landscape were about ten Family shrines; a tangle of plant life in various hues banded the slope of the crater up to the smooth rim. “It didn’t look like this long ago.”

  “How long ago?” His voice was even, mild, but she felt a throb of intense curiosity from him.

  “I don’t know.” She put together more cheese and crackers, dividing the amount evenly between herself and Ilex and handing him his. “But there were people, so it was after the colonists’ ships landed.” She screwed up her face, reaching for impressions. “Perhaps just after Landing.”

  “That was over four centuries ago.”

  She glanced aside. “I can sometimes see all the way back to ancient Earth.”

  “Lady and Lord.”

  Trif waved a hand. “This was new then, the crater.” She frowned. “Very new. Do you think it had something to do with the colonists?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe I’ll research it.”

  His face lightened. “A good idea.” It will keep you out of trouble.

  She barely heard the thought, but the muscles of his face shifted and she knew what he was thinking. “Humph.” She stood and tossed her head, stepped back out onto the labyrinth, glanced back at
him. “And maybe I won’t.”

  With a gesture, he sent the cheese and crackers back where they’d come from, probably the wooden cabinet at the other side of the bench that had a no-time food storage. Knowing Ilex, he’d inform the Caraways of their meal and offer to replace the amount they ate. A thoroughly honorable man, Ilex.

  Sometimes that grated on her nerves. He seemed too perfect. “I don’t think I’ll be raising my Flair again on this walk out.”

  Nodding, he said. “I agree.”

  Yes, too damn perfect.

  Ilex watched Trif closely as she marched along the path. She wasn’t letting the labyrinth do its work, but he was in no mood to reprimand her. She’d scared him to the bone.

  He’d been acutely aware of her walking behind him, and when the path doubled back, he watched her intently. Her Flair had fluctuated wildly and his gut had tightened as he’d sensed the uncontrolled power. He had the idea that she thought she’d been managing it. Far from the truth. It was obvious her psi power still mastered her. And she still wasn’t proficient in teleportation. When he thought of those instants where they spun in nowhere, what might have happened if she’d been alone, his very bones chilled with fear for her and he shivered in the sunlight.

  They were on the last stretch of the path when Ilex was enveloped by the scent of heliotrope, and was struck by a vision of his own. He stopped in his tracks, the familiar rippling rainbow haze alerting him that his weak foresight Flair was starting. He’d have tried to press on, but he didn’t want Trif to notice anything was wrong, and his small visions usually didn’t last more than a moment—of outside time. Internally, they might stretch hours. Cave of the Dark Goddess, why now? They were so close to being able to teleport out. Had his HeartMate’s spiky Flair triggered his own?

  Then he was frozen in it, a reluctant observer, lost to outside reality.

  As always, details were foggy. There was a gleaming curve of brass he couldn’t interpret. Then he saw a reddish tiled floor, wet with water and blood.

  His prone body.

  The side of his head looked—bad. Blood covered his still face, coating it like a red death mask, turning the light brown of his uniform rusty. It didn’t look as if he was still bleeding.