Heart Fire (Celta Book 13)

by Robin D. Owens

  Avellana looked down at the uppermost and read the first line aloud. “I am a wayfarer on a great Journey, a hopeful innocent child toddling into the bright light of my future.” She slipped that page to the back, squared the papyrus, and read the next opening: “I am a mature adult strong in my vitality, master of my intellect, my emotions and my Flair, striding along the path of my Journey with the knowledge I am guided.” She flipped that to the back, took the third. “I am the guardian spirit ever present in each wayfarer on this hopeful Journey, touchstone for each.” Finally, Avellana read the last. “I am the eldest approaching the end of my Journey, full of light, knowing I have done my best, hopeful for whatever comes next.”

  Brows down Avellana stared at them, from one to another. “This”—she fanned the papyrus again—“these concepts make sense to me.”

  “Avellana?” T’Vine’s voice rose, and Tiana understood that unlike most situations in his life, this was unforeseen and had jarred him with surprise.

  The young woman pressed the pages to her breasts and repeated, “This makes sense. Life as a Journey. This is right.” She smiled with radiant beauty that lightened her serious expression.

  “The Intersection of Hope faith was founded by the generational crew during their centuries on the starships. Of course they would think of life and religion as a journey,” T’Vine said reasonably.

  Avellana sniffed. “That doesn’t make the faith any less viable.” Shuffling the papyrus, she said, “I will take the part of the innocent child tonight.” She glanced at Antenn. “Which is the proper entrance for those of us who are innocent children?”

  “The southwest,” he replied.

  T’Vine reached out and touched her fingers. She clasped hands with him again.

  “I thought you’d walk with me down the guardian spirit path,” T’Vine said.

  She gazed up at him and said, “I don’t feel much like a guardian spirit yet.” She sounded younger than she should have and must have been very sheltered.

  Then Tiana stilled her face in a pleasant expression, remembering that Avellana Hazel’s brain had been damaged as a small child. So she might sound young, but Tiana sensed great Flair . . . and will . . . and determination and a bright mind.

  Avellana offered GreatLord T’Vine the appropriate papyrus and slipped the other two sheets back into her sleeve, then tapped the back of her head. “My guardian spirit part hasn’t unfurled itself yet. It’s still a little cramped. But you go ahead.” She looked at Tiana. “Muin makes a very good guardian spirit.”

  “I usually take the role of guardian spirit,” Tiana said, “but this evening I will be walking along the southwest aisle, as the innocent child, too. We can proceed together.”

  “I’d like that,” Avellana said.

  “The space between the foundation blocks is wide enough for four abreast,” Antenn said.

  “And I’m pleased that two such Flaired women are walking together,” T’Vine said. He bowed to Tiana. “Thank you.”

  “I will go as the vital adult,” Antenn said.

  “And that surprises no one,” Tiana said, with humor in her voice.

  “All my focus is on this project,” Antenn stated.

  The four Chief Ministers took their compass points at the end of each arm of the outline of the cathedral.

  “Greetyou,” Custos said, his voice augmented with Flair and loud enough to carry to everyone. “Welcome to the sacred site of the cathedral of the Intersection of Hope. Please gather at the indication of the doorway of your chosen pathway.”

  A small gasp came from Avellana, and Tiana, Antenn, and T’Vine glanced at her.

  “What?” asked T’Vine.

  Whispering, Avellana asked, “Those are the four High Priests of the Intersection of Hope?”

  “The four Chief Ministers, yes,” Tiana answered.

  Even lower, Avellana said, “They are all men.” She paused. “That is not right.”

  “Something to think about,” Antenn said. He reached out, took Tiana’s fingers, and bowed over them, and her whole body clenched in pleasure at his touch, in remembrance of their coming together sexually, physically, and the emotional bond resonating between them. “Later,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  She glanced around and saw her Family, all of them stationed at the door for those participating as the guardian spirits, and she thought her father had persuaded Garrett and Artemisia to do so as protection for Tiana’s mother, the true Intersection of Hope member.

  Father is a little nervous, Artemisia said to Tiana telepathically. We have arrived late and will teleport home the instant the ceremony is over. Then we’ll eat and talk and discuss everything. Blessed be.

  Blessed be, Tiana returned.

  The High Priest and High Priestess stood with Elderstone at that minister’s outlined entrance, another surprise for Tiana since she’d thought they’d be with Antenn and Chief Minister Foreman. They nodded to her and she felt their appraisal . . . and approval, and let out a little sigh.

  As Tiana progressed to the correct area with Avellana, T’Vine sent her a grateful smile, but it only made her wonder what danger he might have foreseen.

  Each Chief Minister held a hand gong and Younger struck his first, followed by Foreman, Elderstone, and Custos, and the ritual began.

  “I am a wayfarer on a great Journey, a hopeful innocent child toddling into the bright light of my future,” Tiana said in a measured way with everyone else in her area, about thirty people, only five who might be Intersection of Hope faith followers. By the end of the sentence those reading and those reciting had caught the rhythm. Echoes of the other three parts came to her ears, in a different beat . . . Foreman’s slightly slower and more forceful, Elderstone’s much slower and contemplative. By the time everyone reached the inner end of the equal arms of the cathedral, the chant would be the same in words, rhythm, and tenor.

  Avellana Hazel had glanced at her part, and though she continued to hold the sheet, she didn’t refer to it. And as the ceremony progressed, Tiana fell into a moving meditative state and got little peeps into the young woman beside her so Tiana reached for her aura, found it slightly odd, but caught Avellana’s attention and blended that aura with hers, sinking again into a light trance and bringing Avellana along with her.

  Everyone met in the center, lined up and sang the simple blessing, then bowed and curtseyed to those around them and continued straight down the opposite arm. With the last quatrain, they stepped from the “door.”

  There they joined hands and each minister took the lead in gathering the Flair of his group—Avellana’s great but mostly untamed—and linking together with the other ministers and those who knew spellshield chants. Then they raised a golden dome, stories high, over the area.

  Then the cathedral itself showed in glowing golden lines, like an architectural drawing. Gasps of awe rose in the night air. Antenn must be doing the visualization and projection and Tiana looked to where he stood, linked with his father, T’Blackthorn, and other members of his Family, most with a large amount of Flair.

  “Ooooh,” Avellana said, staring at the airy construct. “So, so beautiful. Do you think they would be interested in holo artists?”

  Since Avellana was the daughter of a FirstFamily and the holo artist of the age, Tiana said, “Absolutely. You can speak with any of the Chief Ministers or Antenn Blackthorn-Moss.” She paused delicately. “I’m sure they would love any donation you might give them.”

  Avellana’s smile was dazzling. “Oh, I would have to do something for the space and the ambiance of the cathedral.”

  “Of course.”

  Avellana said, “Time to join in the spellshield chant again. Not as beautiful as your ritual. You should think of revising some old spells and giving them new vigor,” Avellana said, then frowned and bit her lips as she funneled energy to Chief Minister Younger.

  Narrowing her own eyes, Tiana strove to see the spellshields, both physically and with Flair. She did,
glossy silver layers coating the stones, hopefully threading through them, too.

  With a last sustained Word, the spell ended and people dropped hands.

  Tiana turned to look at her Family, but they were already gone. Head tilted, she sensed the atmosphere and was pleased at the shrouded quiet of people who’d been drawn emotionally into a rite . . . or experienced a spiritual uplift. One by one, couple by couple, or Family by Family, people winked out like stars, teleporting home. A lesser number of celebrants walked to gliders.

  When GreatLord T’Vine came up and took Avellana Hazel’s arm, she said, “Thank you so much for inviting me to this wondrous ritual.” She curtseyed deeply to Tiana.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “My Family should have come. I think they will regret not doing so.”

  “Merrily met, FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort,” T’Vine said.

  “Merrily met,” Tiana responded, and knew she did feel joyful, her spirits lifted from the ceremony.

  With a last nod, T’Vine vanished with Avellana.

  Then, as at the end of the workday earlier, there were only Antenn and her and the Chief Ministers—who had sent the guards home, confident in their spellshields. As they should have been. More than half of the twenty-five FirstFamilies Lords and Ladies had attended and given their strength and Flair to the spell. As many as often worked together in the important quarterly rituals to shape Druida and Celta in GreatCircle Temple.

  With a formal bow, in unison, the Chief Ministers said, “Thank you for aiding us on our journey; may yours be sweet tonight,” and left.

  Antenn slipped an arm around her waist. “Yes, my thanks.” He cleared his throat. “The ritual went well?” he asked.

  She stared at him. “You tell me how you felt about it.”

  He considered, nodding slowly. “Really good. Not as connected as I am in the best of the rituals at GreatCircle Temples, when I sometimes experience the Lord, but . . . really good.”

  “Excellent.”

  “My parents and siblings and cuzes were impressed.” Antenn kissed her on her cheekbone. Not an asexual buss. “Let’s go back to TQ.”

  “Yes.” The breath had gone out of her with anticipation.

  “I saw a fabulous bedsponge in the MasterSuite, bigger than the one in your bedroom, brand-new and top-of-the-pyramid. Let’s try it out.”

  Her mind fogged with the images coming from him of various sexual positions on that bed. “Yes.”

  During the quiet glider ride they cuddled together. Tiana let all the loveliness of the ritual, the small buzz of anticipatory sex swirl through her, exhilarating her senses . . . until her hand accidentally brushed the front of Antenn’s lap as she shifted closer and found him thick and hard. All her focus narrowed to passion and her blood ran fast and hot. She took his hand and his fingers linked near violently with hers. His face showed strain.

  She began to tremble from the inside out and the familiar yearning for him, his hands on her body, his thumbs rubbing over her breasts. Him inside her, surging with her to explosive release.

  Yes, she trembled. But she savored the moments that seemed strung like glittering beads, one after the other, precious.

  The glider halted and let them out, then left for GreatCircle Temple. Pinky and Felonerb met them, sniffed around their feet as they walked, and then the Fams shared a look and, without one mental word, ran around the House to the back in opposite directions.

  Wrapped in each other, she and Antenn looked at TQ.

  “It’s a beautiful House,” Tiana murmured.

  “Yeah. Looks good. Great personality,” Antenn said in a distracted voice.

  “Thank you, Tiana. Thank you, Antenn,” TQ said. “Please come in.” He opened the door.

  Thirty-five

  They walked together, arms around each other, and it wasn’t awkward, through the door and the entryway and turned right toward the MasterSuite. Her body swayed, brushing his, teasing him and herself.

  The moment the MasterSuite bedroom door closed behind them, her whole being seemed to expand. Free. She turned to him. If she knew anything, it was the construction of ritual robes. She touched the tabs at the top of his shoulders, flicked at the seams of the garment made with Flair, easily dismissed the spells.

  His robe fell away, lay in folds at his feet. She should send it to the wardrobe to hang well. She didn’t care.

  A sleek man but as she ran her hands over his chest, down his arms, she felt the strength . . . and his slight perspiration under her palms. She slid her hands to his hips, touched his loincloth, and it dropped, too. Looking down at him, large and thrusting, she smiled, all of her body warming and flushing, preparing for sex. She loved the way he made her feel, this burgeoning weight to her body, to her blood that would release in orgasm.

  Freedom.

  No constraints. Not here in the bedroom.

  Not with Antenn.

  “Tiana,” he whispered hoarsely, put those callused palms of his on her face, urged her to look at him . . . as she’d stared at him throughout the last time they’d made love. His eyes had widened, showed vulnerability again that she reveled in. She thought he masked himself as much as she did herself. She reached down and circled his sex with her fingers, stroked him. He closed his eyes and shuddered, his hands curving around her shoulders as if to hold on to her.

  She liked that. Loved the urgency of their coming together. No polite little dance as sex had been for her before.

  His head angled and he nibbled her earlobe and it was her turn to shudder, letting the full sensuality of every action vibrate through her. His hands went from her shoulders to feather down her sides, lift and caress her breasts, her nipples.

  “Tiana,” he whispered—like no other, that catch in his voice, that lilt or huskiness or pure emotional resonance. “So perfect,” he murmured, playing with her hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

  The sentiment bothered her, but she didn’t stop to correct him, since his fingers had gone between her legs and he was stroking, stroking until pleasure washed through her and he enlarged in her fingers and she didn’t want to be vertical any longer. With one last caress, she let his shaft go and took his hand and led him to bed.

  Softly, lingeringly they explored each other, with hands and mouths. His tender and slow touch freed her again, to take, then to gasp, then to give. Minutes slowed and only the next skim of his fingers, the next taste of his skin under her tongue mattered.

  Seduction, both of them. She wouldn’t have thought it of him, but the once-street-boy knew how to give, and she pleased them both in returning his gift, showing him her need for him, and that he fulfilled her.

  She drew him over her, free to express the sweet craving for him, free to be gentle and vulnerable and utterly true to herself. And they joined, so naturally, so wonderfully that she knew no other lover, no other love would match this.

  Again, they linked gazes, and hands . . . and emotions through their bond. They moved together, giving and taking, each second fluttering exquisite sensation through her. No rough demand, awful need now, but winding tension that flung her to the stars, burst through her, and then he peaked and they spiraled down on a drift of starfire back to the bed and slipped into sleep, still entwined.

  * * *

  The Turquoise House’s Family was here. Again for the night. Two in a row!

  They were sleeping now, and the privacy rules had been lifted. Because they weren’t in Tiana’s bedroom. A small detail, but a vital one.

  He liked feeling them within his walls, sensing their breathing and their heartbeats. They were together under his roof.

  Maybe it was time for a nudge. He could send them subliminal visions and suggestions that might be incorporated in their sleep, but that wasn’t allowed. But he was allowed to . . . whisper quietly to them, he thought. He checked the Residence Ethics. Yes, he could whisper. So he did, as they slept in each other’s arms, as they dreamed—perhaps of one another. They were HeartMates; a nudge sh
ould be fine. Everyone would say so. Especially all his other Residence friends.

  “You want to HeartBond.” He sent the barely humanly audible words to them, lilted them in the voice he knew people paid the most attention to, along with an airy tune that also caught humans’ attention.

  Tiana frowned, but held Antenn tighter.

  * * *

  She floated in a dream with her HeartMate. Finally found. Finally lost to him. And she wanted to HeartBond. The beautiful golden rope lay in coils near her, ready for her to send to Antenn during sex.

  Reaching out, she found him, glided her fingers over him until he became erect.

  Yes, the HeartBond was there, ready for him to accept. Would he? She didn’t know.

  And she hesitated, too. Everything moved so fast lately. She didn’t feel ready to bond for her whole life with someone she barely knew. Or was she wrong, was she ready? To tie him to her forever? She let her fingers fall away from him, confused.

  Antenn’s dream turned from a simple stream of pure white happiness, to lying next to his HeartMate. He knew her now, was learning her body, celebrated mating with her. Sex. Loving.

  He looked at her in his dream, studied her, picked up the HeartBond to send to her once he slipped inside her again. Then he saw she wasn’t whole. That jarred him from feeling into thinking.

  Within the dream, when she slept, he could scrutinize her as never before.

  Yes, there was a barrier between her and some seething fire of emotions. Easier to see, and he understood her well enough that he could sense her down to her foundation. Her serenity wasn’t false, but she’d built that block over something he was sure needed to be released. Strong, such a strong lady, his Tiana.

  Should he touch that block? Dared he?

  Dare, yes, he’d dare anything for her. But he’d already prompted her to demand justice for the crimes against her Family . . . and done that not only for her, but for himself.

  All the thinking woke him up. He rolled onto his side and propped himself on his elbow and looked at his HeartMate. Still gorgeous. Still outwardly perfect. Still inwardly better than he was. He didn’t deserve her, but he wasn’t sure he’d tell her that again. A flaw.