It is a very good tune for Me. All My own, Greyku purred.
“Of course,” D’Holly agreed.
The last note ended and D’Holly nodded to Trif. “So set that one down and we can fiddle with it a bit, study the jig form, and perhaps change it for the flute or a band.”
Smiling, Trif went to the table and to her task. Later, they discussed the music, and reworked a few bars, then practiced together. Immersed in music and wonderful learning, Trif thought of nothing but that for several septhours. Greyku danced and played and explored and finally settled down to sleep under the twoseat, which had a fringe at the bottom Greyku attacked now and then.
A discreet tap came at the door. “My Lady?” A man’s deep voice asked.
D’Holly’s face lit up and she hurried to the door and opened it. T’Holly stepped in.
Trif had never seen the GreatLord up close, but he looked much older than she’d expected. This was the man who had refused to sanction the marriage of her friend Lark with his son, Holm. But D’Holly kissed him tenderly, and it was obvious they loved.
Of course. They were HeartMates. No matter how wrong the man was, D’Holly would support him. With a stab of envy, Trif watched them together.
Her HeartMate hadn’t wanted her.
She swallowed.
“And this is the young Clover?” asked T’Holly. “The musician for you, not the youngsters sent to The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon to learn fighting.”
“Yes, GreatLord.” Trif curtsied deeply.
“A pleasure to meet you.” He strode into the room. His expression eased into a smile when he saw the scattered instruments and papyrus. “Been busy music-making. Good, good.” He turned to her and she noted his features weren’t as even, his face and form not as handsome, as his sons’, yet he was an incredibly vital man. He held a wrapped package under his arm. “I’ve something for you, Passiflora,” he said, offering the gift.
“Oooh!” she squealed like a girl, smacking a loud kiss on his mouth. “You’re wonderful.” She sat on the twoseat and placed the package on the table in front of her, unwrapping it carefully and dangling the bow where Greyku could come and bat at it. Then she unfolded the cloth.
She and Trif gasped at the sight of a crystal bowl.
“It’s an ancient crystal singing bowl from Nuada’s Sword. I’ve modified it for a scrybowl especially for you, my lady.” He tapped the rim and a hum resonated clear to Trif ’s bones.
“It’s incredible!” D’Holly jumped up and threw herself into his arms.
He caught her close and closed his eyes, his expression revealing such tortured love that Trif had to turn away. She went over to her case on the table and replaced her instruments, ignoring D’Holly’s sniffling. Then Trif took the ribbon and danced it around for Greyku to chase. Just watching the cat lifted her mood.
“Thank you, dearling,” D’Holly said, “but I love my old one…also especially made for me, as a composer. What am I going to do with—Trif!” She clapped her hands. “Yes, Trif.” She hurried over to the old bowl, said a Couplet, and the water evaporated and the bowl dried. Then she handed the large brass bowl to Trif. “You must have this. It’s for a composer, you can bespell your very own melodies into it. Most scrybowls only play one tune, but have many light spells to designate the incoming calls. This is different. It has only a few light spells, but holds many tunes. Here, I’ll bespell it for that jig you just wrote.”
Greyku’s jig, the kitten said smugly.
D’Holly’s flute flew into her hand, and in a moment the spell was set into the scrybowl. It would have taken Trif, even with control of her Flair, a good septhour to do the spell. But D’Holly was of the FirstFamilies, by birth and by marriage, and had great Flair. No use envying something so far out of her realm, so Trif didn’t, just enjoyed watching.
When D’Holly ended and T’Holly handed the gift to Trif with a flourish, beaming all the while, Trif stammered, “But I have a scrybowl….”
“A composer should have this bowl, and that’s an end to it,” T’Holly said. He picked up his HeartMate’s hand and kissed it. “I’m sure you’ve both done good and lovely work, but now it’s time to play.” He glanced at Trif. “The Residence security fields will let you teleport out and in.”
“Darling,” said D’Holly, “it’s been a long day for Trif. She needs a glider to take her home.”
T’Holly’s gaze met Trif ’s, blazing with intensity. For a moment, she didn’t understand what put that look in his eyes. Then she remembered…all the details of the murder came rushing back. He’d know about it, but obviously didn’t want her to say anything to his wife of the killings.
Trif tried to keep her face impassive, but didn’t think she did a good job of it. In any event, she shook her head slightly to let the powerful Lord know that she had said nothing to of murder.
He smiled at her, but it wasn’t as carefree as it had been. “Of course we must ensure Trif gets home. A glider will be waiting at the gates. Tinne?”
Tinne Holly stepped into the room. He kissed his mother’s cheek, and there was tenderness there too. He smiled at Trif and held out his arm. “I’ll escort you.”
“Thank you for the courtesy.” She picked up Greyku and put the kitten on her shoulder, took her large bag containing her instrument case, and walked from the room, quietly letting out a sigh.
She loved the chambers and adored Passiflora D’Holly, but being around great Nobles was trying to her middle-class soul. They could be so generous, they could be so self indulgent. Yes, the FirstFamilies were odd.
The drive from the T’Holly Residence in Noble Country to MidClass Lodge passed in a blur. Trif still struggled with warring emotions—pleasure at her time with D’Holly, humming with music. Then she’d think of telling Ilex about her lesson and it hurt. Rejection, despair swallowed her, even as she felt the echoes of passion, the leaping joy of finally finding her HeartMate.
A limp Greyku was curled on her shoulder, attached by a spell by an amused Tinne Holly. Both she and the kitten had exhausted their Flair. Walking down her hallway without the usual spring in her step, she hesitated by Ilex’s door, but got nothing from it. Her link with him that prickled with shared sensations all day was much more revealing than that door. Lately, she’d never thought to test his place with her charmkey, and now she saw that he’d done his best to mask it from her.
When she entered her own apartment, she detached Greyku and placed the kitten on the twoseat. Instinctively, Greyku stretched, then continued dozing. Trif automatically made dinner for the kitten, but didn’t do the same for herself. She wasn’t hungry.
She placed her instrument case carefully on the corner table, took the new scrybowl into her bedroom, but left it wrapped. She didn’t want to play music either. Even if she could summon the energy to do so, she couldn’t bear to fumble around anymore.
So she sat in the mainspace and listened to some of the music flexistrips D’Holly had given her—not HeartMate Calls—halfheartedly paying attention to the lectures while she considered her situation.
Yes, she loved Ilex. A part of her sensed it was the HeartMate bond at work, the attraction, and knowledge of a person complementary to herself. But most of it was simply him. Mature, strong, sophisticated, courteous, respectful, sexy. Every time she thought of him, a new quality came to mind.
But his actions ripped at her. He hadn’t wanted her. She could see now that he’d moved into MidClass Lodge after she’d searched the place for her mate, and she hadn’t considered doing so again when the rest of Druida beckoned.
Yet when she thought of it, she realized he’d usually been close to her here—even if unseen around a convenient corner. And his being here had strengthened the connection between them that had begun during her Passages.
For a moment, anger washed through her at fate. Why was her Flair so intractable? If she’d had easier Passages, clearer control, could she have found him before this, before he decided he didn’t wa
nt her? Was that why he didn’t he want her? Because of her stupid, unstable Flair?
Why didn’t he want her?
She thought of T’Holly and D’Holly. How fragile the GreatLady looked compared to the vibrant woman Trif had occasionally seen in concerts. T’Holly was a HeartMate, yet he was hurting his love with his prideful arrogance in refusing to mend his broken Vow of Honor. He loved her, yet he hurt her.
Trif ’s breath caught. Could there possibly be some parallel in her situation with Ilex? He was hurting her for some reason—hopefully not for one as stupid as T’Holly’s.
She didn’t know. She pressed her hands hard against her heart.
Why do you sit in the dark? asked Vertic. He came and sat in front of her.
She jolted, had to clear her throat before she found her voice. “I didn’t realize it was dark.” Nor had she noticed when Greyku had jumped onto her lap and settled in for a good petting, which Trif was doing. She looked around, Bel had certainly set. “Why are you here, and how did you get in?”
Good to know where the kit is, where the FamWoman is. You don’t usually sit in the dark. You are a light person.
She didn’t know whether the fox meant she liked the sunshine, preferred the day to night, or was lighthearted, but all three were true.
“Is Ilex a dark person?”
The fox’s plumed tail swept once. Not necessarily. He goes in night when he must. Lately, his emotions are dark. He met her eyes and they stared at each other. Then he barked quietly. This is not good—you dark, he dark. I will go get FamMan.
Though she watched him, he faded into the shadows near her door, then vanished. A drift of his scent came to her nose. He smelled like autumn leaves. She frowned. There was none of the musky scent from the night before, when she’d thought someone had been in her rooms and Greyku had told her it was Vertic.
She should get up and make dinner, eat. She wasn’t hungry and stayed as she was, sitting in the dark, something she hadn’t ever done before. She’d always thought she’d be giddy and carefree, blissful, when she’d met and loved her HeartMate. Yet here she sat, enervated, uncertain, self-absorbed. How love changed a person.
Twenty
Ilex trudged down the dim corridor. He was a coward. He didn’t want to face Trif and tell her about…everything. Discussing the murders and his fear for her would be the easy part. He nearly cringed at the thought of “HeartMate” discussions.
He was definitely too old for this…and he wondered how excited and passionate she’d get in that discussion and whether he could turn that into lovemak…No. That was reprehensible too. Where had his honor gone? His sensitivity? Buried under the tension of trying to solve dreadful murders, keeping his HeartMate safe, and wanting her and avoiding her and loving her…He needed a drink.
What he got was Vertic lying in the hallway at the threshold of his door, radiating disapproval. You must go to FamWoman.
Everyone was concerned for Trif.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
She is sitting in the dark. The cat is useless. It sleeps.
Ilex winced, then straightened his shoulders. He’d go in his guardsman uniform; he didn’t know exactly what that symbolized to Trif anymore and it might be good to find out.
Yet his step slowed as he walked to her door. For a few breaths, he just stood and let a trickle of Flair examine the room. She wasn’t crying.
She wasn’t playing music either.
He rapped.
“Come,” she said. “It’s open. Of course, you could fashion a charmkey and enter anytime.”
Walking inside, and closing the door, he asked, “Did you try your key on my door?”
“No point in it, is there?” she said, her tones as quiet as his own.
He couldn’t see her in the dark, but her voice came from the twoseat. He wondered if he dared sit next to her. His body tightened at the thought—the memories of her scent, the smooth softness of her skin affected him until more than his body yearned for her. He used all his control not to stride to her, sweep her into his embrace.
His HeartMate.
As if the word flowed through their bond, she asked, “Why did you not want me to find you?” Now that he was paying attention to their link, he felt her hurt, heard it behind the coolness of her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that. You’re not sorry you avoided me…or are you sorry we’re HeartMates? I’m not the kind of woman you’d be attracted to?”
“You’re wrong. I…” He couldn’t bring himself to say he loved her. If he did it would be all over. They’d make love and HeartBond and he would not kill her.
“I’m too old for you, twice your age. Old and worn out.” He felt it at the moment.
Her crack of laughter surprised him.
“Ilex, we’re HeartMates. By definition, we’re made for each other. Old? I’ve never had a more active lover.”
Embarrassed heat made his ears burn, then spread to his neck. He shifted. He hadn’t been that active in bed for some time. “Lights!” he commanded, and the three lamps in the room came on.
Trif blinked, and he saw her attention focused on him. Of course. There were no tear tracks on her face, but he felt a deep melancholy that wasn’t natural from her. Had he done that? Taken away her joy? A crime.
She turned her face away, ruffled the fur of her absurd looking cat.
“She’s pretty quiet,” he said.
“She’s tired.”
“How did your lesson with D’Holly go?
“Don’t change the subject, I’m wallowing in self-pity. ‘Here’s Trif Clover confident and optimistic, searching for her HeartMate. He avoids her. Boo-hoo.’”
“Don’t say that.” He strode over to her.
Frowning up at him, she said, “Don’t say what?”
“That your quest was silly. That you were silly to do it.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t.”
“You implied it.”
“You didn’t laugh at me and my quest?”
Anger washed through him, he set it aside. “Did I ever seem to laugh at you? It was—touching.”
She snorted. “So touching that you evaded me.”
He rubbed his temples. “I’m not saying this right. It’s been a bad day.”
Immediately, her expression changed. “Yes—surprising and upsetting from the start. How is your cuz?”
“She’ll be well.” He tried a smile. “Figuring out how to thank T’Heather and Lark Apple.”
“I’m glad to hear she’ll recover.”
“Thank you. I think she and I could become close, if we had the time.”
Trif tilted her head. “That sounded like a lead-in to something.”
“How well you know me already.” He drew in a breath, let it out slowly, gestured to the seat beside her. “May I?”
“Of course. You’re my HeartMate.”
He winced.
Her lips pressed together until they were white; then she said, “It’s time to tell me, Ilex.”
“I know.” He sat beside her and took her hand in his own. Her fingers were warm and soft, yet her blood pulsed with vivid life. Exactly a reflection of her.
He took a deep breath. “Trif, I have a small gift of foreseeing.”
Her eyes brightened with interest.
Waving a hand, he said, “I can’t see much and don’t have visions often. I certainly can’t foresee anything about these flig—murders.” He shifted in his seat. That still rankled. Several times, he’d tried to force a vision, nothing.
“Go on. Did you see…see something wrong with me? With us.”
“No!” He smiled briefly, kissed her hand. “Nothing could ever be wrong with you.”
She pulled her fingers from his grasp and scowled. “It must be. You avoided me. You don’t want the bond.”
“No, I don’t.”
She flinched.
“I would give anything to bond with you. But not your life. And I will di
e soon.”
“What!” Her eyes had gone large in her face; her mouth slightly opened in shock.
“Ever since I was a boy…since my father’s death, I’ve seen a vision of myself dead as a man.” He touched his gray head. “When my hair had gone silver.”
“But…but…”
“I don’t get much detail. Lately, I’ve seen that I have a head wound and wear a brown guardsman’s uniform with the rank and insignia I have today. The visions have become more frequent, as if in warning. I sense I’ll—pass on—soon.”
She just stared at him. “No! You’re too young to die!”
“My work can occasionally be dangerous. And I’ve become accustomed to dying young.”
Shooting from the chair, she paced her small mainspace. “That can’t be.”
He went on inexorably. “And if we HeartBonded, I would rob you of your life. Trif, you are twenty! You should have at least another fifteen decades of life!”
She stopped. Her hands went to her throat. “This can’t be. I won’t let it happen.”
“It will happen.”
Once more she paced, then turned and stared at him. Frustration pulsed through their bond. “That’s it? You’re denying us whatever life we might have together because of a stupid dream!”
He couldn’t sit either. He stood and strode across the room to halt by the door, as always, keeping his temper in check. “It’s Flair, Trif. My Flair, and no more stupid than your quest, and just as powerful as your visions of the past. Do you question them?”
“They occurred!”
“How do you know?”
“I checked some with the Ship…those that could be checked.”
“And I’ve had other dreams that come true.”
“And some that don’t?” She sounded less angry now, more desperate.
“A few,” he admitted. “About ten percent.”
Trif marched up to him. “I never thought you were one not to live life to its fullest.” She flung out her arms.
He stiffened. “This just emphasizes our age difference. I am more cautious than you. Can’t you understand? I want you to live life—every moment of your life to the fullest. A long, long life.”
Heart Quest Page 22
