Heart Fire (Celta Book 13)

by Robin D. Owens

Antenn poked a gentle finger in his Fam’s belly. “That’s good, because I think you should go with me on site with this project.”

  Mitchella’s face softened. Holding a cat and looking as innocent as he could, reminding her of his small and pitiful orphan-self, sometimes worked to get him out of hot water. She dropped her writestick and stood, smiled at him. “Lunch sounds great. You can tell me what trouble you got into that you need me to help you out of. Just the three of us for lunch; your brothers, sisters, and cuzes are elsewhere. Of course you’re welcome, too, Vinni.”

  “Thanks, Mitchella.”

  The lunch was very green and healthy. Vinni seemed all right with it, but he tended to let his staff—all relatives like in most Noble Residences, but mostly female—boss him around.

  Antenn had his doubts regarding the huge multicolored green leaves and a few nuts. He looked across the table in the breakfast room at his adopted mother. “You do realize I spent much of the morning tramping around a nice-sized area of the Varga Plateau?”

  Raising her nicely shaped brows, Mitchella said, “And you’ll be doing the same this afternoon? Or sitting at a desk?”

  With a grimace, Antenn stabbed more leaves. They seemed to have multiplied. “Desk.”

  Mitchella said, “I’ll order you a clucker sandwich.”

  “Thanks, Mitchella,” Antenn said.

  While they were drinking their after-lunch caff, Antenn said, “I need to consult with you about a dress.”

  Mitchella’s hand, holding her pretty white china cup to her lips, paused. She set the drink back down and studied him. “I think that’s the first time you’ve said anything of that sort to me since I adopted you at nine.”

  He grinned.

  She cocked a finger at him. “But I know that expression.” Her brows lifted. “Whose dress did you ruin?”

  “It was an accident,” Antenn said. “Mostly. Well, the rip in her gown was, the dirt . . . we were walking a site, for Lord and Lady’s sake! It’s dirty, it’s dusty, and her wretched dress was white.”

  With his peripheral vision, Antenn saw Vinni wince.

  Antenn raised his palms out as he noted his mother drumming her fingers on the linen tablecloth. “Peace. I’ll make it good. I’ll buy her a new dam—a new gown.” He tried a smile. “That’s why I came, to ask you how much it’ll cost.”

  “Good job,” Vinni muttered from the side of his mouth.

  “What kind of gown was this?”

  “A priestess’s formal ritual gown, I think.”

  Mitchella winced, lifted her cup, and drank down the strong caff. “Whose?”

  “FirstLevel Priestess Tiana Mugwort. She’ll be the liaison between GreatCircle Temple, me, and Cross Fo—Intersection of Hope Chief Ministers.”

  “Ah.” Mitchella pursed her lips together, no doubt tracing Family lines in her head or something. “Mugwort, I don’t know her Family. What was the dress like?”

  Antenn made a futile gesture. “White, heavy material to her ankles. Long rectangular sleeves. You know the sort.”

  “Traditional.”

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “I think it had some pattern woven into the cloth.”

  “Embroidery?” Mitchella asked.

  “Only around her sleeves and at her shoulders, denoting a FirstLevel Priestess and her Family.”

  Mitchella nodded. “All right. I can contact our cuz Amplecta Clover, who’s started a tailoring business. I think she can get it done immediately.” She scanned Antenn’s tunic. “You should switch your custom to her. She’ll give you a good rate.”

  Antenn grunted. He didn’t care too much about clothes. “Sure.”

  Naming a figure for the gown that made him wince, but wasn’t as expensive as the highest cost he’d earmarked in his mind, Mitchella held out her hand for the gilt.

  He got it out of his wallet and handed it over.

  “Measurements?” she asked.

  His eyes nearly popped. “How should I know?”

  Vinni laughed.

  “I’ll contact GreatCircle Temple, why don’t I? They’ll know her measurements because they regulate their priestesses’ and priests’ garments.” Mitchella smiled as she tucked the gilt into her own gown pocket.

  “Yeah, yeah. I gotta go.” He stood, walked around the table, and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be home for dinner with the rest of the gang.” Then he walked back, buffeted Vinni on the shoulder, and said, “Later, man.” Leaning down, he picked up Pinky. “You’re coming with me to the office.”

  Nice, Pinky purred.

  With a last wave, Antenn hopped onto the teleportation pad and ’ported to his office, where he was boss and he made damn sure things ran as smoothly as humanly possible.

  * * *

  Tiana had no sooner arrived on the teleportation pad in Camellia Darjeeling D’Hawthorn’s sitting room when her nose twitched at the smell of grilled clucker, her favorite food and made by the hands of her best friend, Camellia, herself.

  “How’d it go?” chorused Camellia and the other of their trio of friends, Glyssa Licorice Bayrum.

  Camellia gasped. “Your poor robe! What happened?”

  Like the cork popping from the champagne bottle that she couldn’t drink from because she had another interview this afternoon with the High Priest, words flew from Tiana’s mouth.

  She was hugged, her gown whisked from her body and handed to a commiserating housekeeper to see what damage could be repaired, and she was draped in one of Camellia’s thin silkeen houserobes.

  Her friends murmured all the words of support that Tiana wanted to hear, but she didn’t miss the sharpening of their gazes or a couple of quick, shared glances between them . . . and her spirits dampened.

  When they were all done with brunch, she sighed herself and held up a palm before either of them could work their way around to gentle comments. “I know, I know, some of what the High Priestess said is true.”

  “So are you going to work with Antenn?”

  Tiana blinked. “You know him.”

  Camellia rolled her eyes. “He’s been reconstructing the MistrysSuite for me here, I told you.”

  Glyssa said, “And, though I don’t recall meeting him lately, he was the one who drew up the plans for the town at the excavation of Lugh’s Spear where I’ll be living. I’ve already helped construct one of his buildings, the community center, there.”

  “He’s part of that whole younger Noble group,” Camellia said. “You know, along with Laev and Vinni T’Vine.”

  They all gave a tiny shudder at Vinni’s name. No one ever wanted to see the prophet.

  Glyssa chuckled, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Camellia and you will be my rich, Noble friends.”

  “Camellia, maybe,” Tiana said.

  “No, Tiana,” Glyssa softened her voice. “You know that if you’re aiming for High Priestess you will be mixing in with the FirstFamilies.”

  “And be held to the highest standard of behavior in all of Celta.” Camellia wrinkled her nose.

  Two sets of eyes, brown and gray, stared at her. Tiana blinked her own.

  “We’ve never talked about that,” Camellia said. “Do you really want to watch everything you say and do more than you do already?”

  “Uh—”

  Glyssa brushed the question away with an impatient gesture. “I don’t think they’ll accept someone who isn’t in the HeartMate bond.”

  Tiana flinched, staring at both her friends, who’d settled into their HeartMate status with their husbands.

  Leaning forward, Glyssa said, “Being part of a HeartMate couple influences everything in your life.”

  Camellia waved her hands and sounded equally passionate about the issue. “It’s wonderful.”

  Tiana dampened her lips, and her own voice was high. “The High Priestess accepts that I don’t need to search for my HeartMate right now. Why are you pushing?”

  Another shared look between her two friends, one that excluded her, as their new e
xperiences excluded her. Lady and Lord, she hadn’t realized she felt that way. Not acceptable. She would have to meditate on it.

  Camellia translocated a tier of plates from her kitchen, each holding a different dessert. She plucked a small white cake iced with pink frosting and handed it to Tiana. “We want you to be as happy as we are.”

  “Now is not the time to think of HeartMates,” Tiana said severely. “I have enough to juggle with these new duties and a Fam.” Her smile was lopsided. “And it isn’t as if GrandLady D’Sandalwood will be retiring soon, as she very well told me.” All right, a hint of bitterness had entered her tone. More meditation on that, too.

  “Speaking of your Fam,” Camellia said. “We’d love to meet him.”

  “He’ll show up,” Tiana said. Recalling her interaction with the disreputable tom amused her. Good, that showed she could poke a little fun at herself. She tilted her head. “In fact, I bet if I thought FOOD to him, he’d be right here.” She did, sending a picture of the furrabeast bites she’d seen Camellia feed her own FamCat.

  Pop! The cat lit on the table, tipping over the dessert holder with a crash, knocking Glyssa’s plate onto the floor, yowling and whirling, tail smacking cups of tea into the air. He lunged for a clucker leg, snagged it.

  Crash! More plates and cutlery hit the floor. Good thing it wasn’t Camellia’s prized tea set.

  Tiana reached for her Fam, caught him close. Camellia and Glyssa stood, staring at the destruction.

  I’M HUNGRY! RatKiller yelled mentally as he ate.

  “What is going on?” The Hawthorn housekeeper popped in, holding Tiana’s gown. She stared, and then with one sweep of her arm, all the plates and utensils levitated to a large silver tray sitting on a side table.

  “Manners, Fam!” the housekeeper ordered.

  “He doesn’t have any,” Glyssa choked.

  “That is one interesting Fam,” Camellia said, grinning.

  Tiana eyed the cat, chomping at the clucker leg, and didn’t think she dared take it away from him. It smeared grease along the front of Camellia’s robe.

  “What. An. Interesting. Fam,” the housekeeper said between gritted teeth.

  Mortification flooded Tiana. “I am so sorry. I will be pleased to clean up—”

  “Thank. You. No.” The housekeeper gestured and Tiana’s dress hung in the air. Then the woman gave one sharp clap and the room seemed to depressurize.

  The remaining platters of food shifted to a sideboard. Camellia grabbed the teapot as it floated by, and then the tablecloth folded itself over and vanished somewhere it could be tended to.

  Doors opened on a cabinet and a clean, pale-pink tablecloth draped over the polished wood of the table; more silverware laid itself at places, followed by china also in pale pink with red roses outlining the rim. Tiana shared a glance with Camellia, who rolled her eyes at the fussy spell but said nothing.

  Unlike the two cats who shot through the open doors, the Fams of Camellia and her husband, Laev T’Hawthorn.

  We smelled a new FamCat. A new FamCat has come to visit us and play? Mica, the young female calico asked. She scanned the room and Tiana holding her Fam. The cat screeched and leapt onto Camellia’s shoulder. It’s RATKILLER! she yowled.

  Five

  The calico cat, Mica, screeched, He hurt me when I was a feral kitten!

  Tiana’s Fam stopped gnawing on the clucker leg and looked at the new arrivals, Mica first. I just gave you a tap. He smiled, and because of his half fang it seemed more like a leer. A looove tap.

  Brazos leapt in front of Camellia’s feet, bristled and bottle-tailed. She is mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, MINE. MY mate.

  RatKiller snorted.

  “RatKiller.” Glyssa’s lips twitched.

  “He’ll need a new name, of course,” Tiana said.

  “Do you want more tea, GreatLady D’Hawthorn?” the housekeeper asked, using Camellia’s title. Not the first time the three friends had been viewed with disapproval by Laev’s Family staff. It didn’t bother them.

  Camellia lifted the pot she held. “Thank you, GentleLady. I can heat this up.” She looked at the remnants of their meal. “The food can be cleared, but could you translocate another dessert plate with little cakes and flatsweets?”

  “Yes, GreatLady.” Back stiff with offense, the housekeeper gestured and the two massive trays, one of no-doubt antique Hawthorn china and the other of food, floated with her from the room.

  RatKiller went back to chewing the clucker leg.

  You are a Fam now? the long-haired, nicely groomed black Brazos sneered. Took You long enough. I didn’t think You’d ever find a person to like You. He lifted a paw, licked it, and smoothed the fur over his ear. You see this Residence? I live here, I am the TomCat here. I have a rich FamMan.

  Sniffing, RatKiller nuzzled his head, and the bone in his mouth, against Tiana’s upper chest. She now had small shreds of meat on the robe. The second garment she’d ruined today. MY FamWoman lives in the hidden garden, where Your FamMan can’t go. Where only Special People can go.

  Brazos growled. My FamMan was there once.

  “Enough!” Tiana said, then cleared her throat as her cat widened his eyes in a pitiful manner. “Are you still hungry?”

  He burped around the bone. I could eat more.

  Camellia stroked her FamCat. “Mica, will you show our guest, um, RatKiller, the Fam no-time storage unit outside against the patio wall?”

  Yes, the calico sniffed, too, and, adding Flair to her jump, sailed across the room to land in front of the open door. She crooked her tail. Come on, Brazos. Come on, RatKiller. She flicked her tail and sauntered out.

  I would like hot, hot furrabeast bites! RatKiller said. And cold, cold milk! Does your no-time have that?

  Mica said, Of course. My FamWoman makes all our food and drink. And a no-time would produce the food and drink at the same temperature it went into storage.

  RatKiller licked under Tiana’s chin before he jumped from her arms, leaving the picked-clean bone behind. I will see you later, FamWoman. He didn’t walk, he swaggered. Brazos, the black cat, followed, prowling, ready to pounce. Well, better any fighting take place outside the house.

  Tiana glanced down at herself and caught both her friends looking at the smeared and dirty robe. At least it didn’t look like it had any cat-claw holes.

  Her friends’ lips were twitching when she glanced up again.

  “RatKiller!” Camellia gasped.

  Glyssa just shook her head. “You have interesting times ahead of you.”

  “I guess so. I’m sorry about the robe, Camellia.”

  “A cleansing spell will take care of it. Here, let’s examine your gown.”

  “I should have known better than to wear white,” Tiana grumbled.

  “Why? You thought you’d stay inside the Temple,” Glyssa said absently. She stroked the sleeve of the heavy cloth. “Whoever worked on this did an incredible job. It appears to be new.”

  “It is new,” Tiana said, and walked over to check out where the ragged tear had been. She couldn’t see it.

  “They rewove the threads.” She hummed in approval. “Heavy-duty Flair.”

  “Your general protection spell on it as well as the fact that it is quality material and workmanship helped,” Camellia said. She was a little flushed, still new to all the wealth and skill she could command as a GreatLady.

  Tiana nodded. Her perscry, a personal communication pebble that she’d placed on an end table, glowed and pinged. “Twenty minutes until your meeting with High Priest T’Sandalwood,” the calendar sphere part of the perscry announced.

  “I need to go,” Tiana said.

  “We’ll help you with your gown,” Glyssa said, murmuring the spell to release the dress as Camellia came around and took her robe back with not-very-suppressed chuckles. She shook her head and said, “Fams.”

  Tiana stood for a moment in her undergown while her two friends slipped the formal robe over her head, murmuring mo
re spells as they did so. The dress now fairly hummed with Flair.

  With a last twitch at the skirt, Glyssa stood back. “There, you look great.”

  “Take some flatsweets,” Camellia urged. She smiled at Tiana’s narrowed eyes. “They can’t hurt. And I think GrandLord High Priest T’Sandalwood particularly likes the ones with white cocoa bits.” She offered a little papyrus bag that smelled great. But no time for dessert for Tiana.

  “And I’ll, ah, take care of this.” Glyssa’s mouth twitched as she picked up the clean leg bone from the carpet that Tiana hadn’t noticed. She closed her eyes and flushed, even though these were her best friends.

  Glyssa kissed her on the cheek, took the bag from Camellia, and thrust it into Tiana’s hands. “A goodwill offering. Especially since you think he’s going to be as hard on you as his lady, High Priestess D’Sandalwood.”

  “Glyssa,” Camellia protested.

  “Well, it’s the truth.”

  Tiana grimaced. “I’ve had a lot of the truth today.” She rubbed her hand over the robe, and it soothed her. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at her friends. They both tried to appear guileless; Glyssa did it better. Tiana shook her head. “Thank you for whatever serenity spells you added.” She frowned. “I don’t think we’re allowed—”

  “They are spells fueled by the love of friends, and primarily to protect an expensive gown.” Camellia nudged Tiana. “Go.”

  “You can nail this interview!” Glyssa said. Of course, she’d already gone through her tests and been promoted in her career. As for Camellia, she was a businesswoman and worked for herself, so she didn’t have to deal with performance reviews.

  Hauling in a deep breath, Tiana shifted her stance as she also tried to shift her state of mind into tranquility. Mostly it worked, though some niggling, worrying bit chittered in the back of her brain, which she ignored.

  “I love you both!” She concentrated on her friends, on the warmth she had for them, the love, drew it through her, along her nerves.

  “We love you!” they chorused. “Blessed be!” They boosted her Flair for the teleportation.

  “Blessed be.” She smiled with real sincerity and ’ported to the GreatCircle Temple’s priest and priestess lounge.