Heart Fortune (Celta)

by Robin D. Owens

  No way to make it last, pleasure so pure. Everything pouring into his senses. The dampness of Glyssa’s skin, the cut of her nails on his back. Glyssa!

  One more lunge and ecstasy poured through him. Glyssa keened and her arms and legs squeezed him and they held each other tight.

  When his brain began working, he noted they’d moved to lie on their sides, facing each other. And though Glyssa appeared happy and relaxed, he thought he could still see faint traces of tears.

  “What made you cry, sweet Glyssa?”

  She snorted, chuckled. “I’m not that sweet.”

  But she obviously had a tender heart for some things. “Maybe not, but I don’t think you’re the type to cry easily or often.”

  After a sniff and a long sigh, her gaze slid away from his. “The FirstLevel Librarians of Druida are not pleased that I can’t write a good story.”

  Jace blinked. “It’s a skill, like anything else. I can’t tell you how many bad or pointless or long-drawn-out stories I’ve listened to at campfires.”

  “You’re a natural.”

  He smiled. “You think?”

  “Maybe it’s your Flair.”

  His shoulder hunched automatically. “I don’t have great Flair.”

  “You had Passages, though.”

  “Yeah, but nothing obviously manifested.”

  “Storytelling?”

  “That doesn’t feel right.”

  She chuckled, rolled toward him, and he got a good hold on her so she couldn’t wiggle away from the next questions he was planning to ask.

  “If storytelling doesn’t feel right as your main Flair, that skill probably isn’t it,” she said.

  “Told you.” He stroked her cheek. “What happened to make you cry? Can’t be that stick-up-ass librarians don’t understand you.”

  As he’d expected, she stiffened. But unexpectedly, she didn’t try to draw away, though her lashes lowered so he couldn’t see her eyes. She took a couple of long breaths, and not looking at him, said, “The FirstLevel Librarians of Celta are my mother, father, and sister.”

  He winced. “Ouch.”

  “Yes.”

  “The Family expects technical expertise in a variety of areas, such as creative writing.”

  “Huh. How are their stories?”

  Her eyelashes fluttered and she leaned back to meet his gaze. Such a lovely woman, a vivid woman with red hair and deep brown eyes and freckles that got more color when she flushed.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Something to keep in mind. But I sense that wasn’t all that bothered you.” And he did. Their bond seethed with rough emotions regarding her Family.

  Glyssa pushed him a little, moved to lie with her head on his shoulder, her hand stroking his chest—he’d wait a little before sliding it lower. It occurred to him that they’d never talked about serious matters in dreams or during their quick affair. They had more of a bond than sex, now.

  “They—the FirstLevel Librarians, in their official capacity—have ordered me to return for an interim hearing on my fieldwork.”

  A jolt to his heart. His breath stopped. His arms pulled her over his body as if trying to bind her closer still so they could not be separated. And his fear of intimacy was back screaming and questioning what he was doing. But his body, and, right now, his emotions, wanted her and would not listen to stupid fears.

  He wished for a drink to whet his suddenly dry mouth. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means they are doubting that my field study work is acceptable.”

  “Because you can’t write a story!”

  “That was one of the provisions, and it was for Camellia, but she is fine with you helping me with it. My Family isn’t.”

  “Family,” he said bitterly. His had never supported him much, just the opposite, especially his mother.

  “They love me, they do. In their own way.”

  Jace had always thought the same of his father, but in the end, didn’t know.

  “It’s just that my mother suspects much of anything outside of cities and towns and is so very proud of the Family being FirstLevel Librarians. Nothing is better than that, anywhere, ever.”

  He sifted his fingers through Glyssa’s soft and bouncy hair, and as a lock tickled his palm his whole body shuddered. Why had he waited so long to do this? Pure stupidity.

  “Will you go?”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course?” he pressed.

  “It’s what I’ve been working for all my life. I’ll go, and I’ll have my daily reports on the excavation, whatever documents the Elecampanes will give me, my notes as their expedition recorder, the transcription of Hoku’s journals, and as much of the story as we can get done.”

  “Bury them in papyrus?” That sounded good.

  “Show them I haven’t been frittering away my time.”

  He snorted. “No one could say that of you.”

  “Yes, they could, but they won’t.”

  He didn’t like this idea. “When will you go?”

  “It’s the weekend and the airship won’t come until Mor. That transport will be a big one and some of the crew will be abandoning the camp. The shuttle might be full so I can’t return.”

  “I hope the shuttle isn’t full of people who want to leave,” Jace said.

  “If they don’t want to be here, will be a burden, they should go,” Glyssa said.

  And she was back, the woman with definite opinions. She moved atop him, shifting upward to look down on him and lower her lips to his. Just before they touched, she smiled that smile he’d never seen on her face except during moments of sex. “I suppose you wouldn’t consider coming with me.” He flinched at the idea, but any objection vanished as she nibbled on his lower lip, feathered her tongue over it.

  “Just a little jaunt, a break, to keep me company.” Her breath teased his mouth with an anticipatory kiss.

  He managed to grasp one single thought as he put his hands on her hips, began to slide her down where she belonged. “You’ll be coming back to the camp?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if they”—someone, who? Glyssa felt so good, moved so right—“don’t want you to come back?” He almost forgot how important the question was.

  “Absolutely. This is my project.” And as she lifted and lowered, he almost thought she meant him.

  * * *

  Four times. They’d made love four times and now Jace slept in her bed. Finally! Glyssa smiled in the night. She’d heard Lepid patter through the door and into the sitting room, give a little grunt, a mental, Night, night, FamWoman, and collapse into his bed, with snores following in a couple of breaths.

  Even better, she’d heard the soft whir of feathers as Zem flew through her spellshield and into the outer room and onto his perch. Sounded like a fully Healed and well predator to her.

  She thought she’d taken the right approach in asking Jace to come with her to Druida. Not that she had planned it that way, she’d acted from instinct.

  But this sex had certainly cleared her mind with regard to what was important in her life and should remain a priority. Her needs and fulfillment. Hers, not her Family’s. She could not—should not, she amended—live life to please them and their wants and needs.

  They weren’t so hidebound or of such social status that they would demand that of her, ultimately. She didn’t have to marry to keep the Family in funds, or for any other practical reason. She wasn’t even the heir to the Licorices. That was her sister, Enata.

  Daughter? Her father’s quiet tones came into her head. She did a quick calculation. Even accounting for the time change, he was up late.

  It’s midnight, there? she asked.

  She heard his grunt, sensed he was relaxing in one of his shabby overstuffed chairs in his personal library. They all had personal libraries in their Residence.

  Her father replied, One of the FirstFamilies let me visit their HouseHeart with the proviso that it had to be late at
night during the heir’s hours. Can’t name the Family, of course, he grumbled. FirstFamily designated anonymously as FFA2 in my report.

  Was the HouseHeart lovely?

  Gorgeous. I got to remember the chamber. They only insisted I have my recollection how and where to enter removed.

  Jace snuffled beside her and she smiled. Soon her father would go up to his HeartMate, and now she knew firsthand how sleeping next to her own felt.

  But that is not what I wanted to speak to you about, Fasic Almond T’Licorice said.

  Yes, Father? Since apprehension tickled her spine, she put her hand in Jace’s. His fingers curled around hers, but he didn’t wake.

  Twenty-one

  There is an underlying reason you wished to make the excavation at Lugh’s Spear your fieldwork, her father said with the sureness of knowing his daughter and having spent time thinking about the whole issue.

  Glyssa hesitated. If she told him the reason, he would tell his HeartMate, Glyssa’s mother, and her mother would tell Glyssa’s sister. No privacy. And then work and Family would slop around together in a mess.

  Perhaps I should state another conclusion, her father said. You will not give up this project, will you? Even if it costs your career?

  One huge breath in, released in increments. No.

  What would be so important that you would forfeit your career, might have already taken steps away from becoming a FirstLevel Librarian?

  You are doing fine with your deductions, she said. She wanted to tell him, but with Jace’s arm moving around her shoulders, drawing her to him, she would not say why. If she didn’t, her father, no matter how much he guessed, how much he sensed, couldn’t state with conviction to the rest of the Family that he was certain why Glyssa had acted the way she had.

  She thought her father rose from his seat and poured himself some liquor, then settled again. She could feel his mind turning over facts as he plucked a little at the bond between her and him.

  Your HeartMate, he said. You have found your HeartMate! He is there!

  I will neither confirm nor deny, she said, but she was smiling at the joy she felt from her father.

  Wonderful news, and completely understandable that you would take steps to claim him. But that will not appease your mother. She fears for you there. She tracked down some terrible rumors today.

  I will be there within the time period to defend my fieldwork, Glyssa said.

  Your banker informed us that you have invested heavily in the venture.

  Glyssa flinched, rolled and scooted so she was against Jace’s body.

  You are considering staying there . . . or spending the summers there and the winters here, aren’t you?

  Yes. It is wonderful here, this project—and her man—is fascinating and has so much potential to change our view of our world. I’ll see you soon, I love you, Dad, Glyssa said.

  I love you, too. And I’ll be talking to Camellia tomorrow—later today. Good night, dear girl, blessed be.

  Blessed be, she sent back to him, and they both pinched off the telepathic mindtalk link. A good thing because she scooted back to spoon with Jace and found his body hardening.

  * * *

  Through the osmosis of camp gossip, by morning everyone knew that Glyssa was returning for a short time to “consult” with people in Druida. Maybe her GrandHouse Family, maybe her FirstFamily friends. Her popularity increased, and so did Jace’s own.

  Everyone also knew he’d spent the night with her. The fact that her rep reflected well on his irritated him a little, but he accepted it as the boon it was.

  The staff—and the owners—had gotten to know Glyssa. And though she rubbed some people the wrong way, everyone believed in her honesty and honor. And, like everything else, gossip had gone around that the Elecampanes had checked her out and found her background pristine.

  The Elecampanes treated him much like before the whole “thief and bad luck” incident. They might also have finally listened to their daughter Maxima when she said he was a good man. The tension that had stiffened his sinews, settled into his nerves, eased.

  He’d volunteered to work over the weekend and was back to exploring and documenting the interior of Lugh’s Spear with the rest of the volunteer team . . . proceeding through the long corridor that the breach opened into. Earning top gilt. The pay for digging was a whole lot less than exploring the ship, and those who wanted to leave on the next transport had to put in backbreaking time.

  Speaking of luck, it had certainly been with Lugh’s Spear. Raz Cherry T’Elecampane had made a stirring speech detailing that. The ground had given way underneath the starship, enough that it had plunged down, but it hadn’t broken. Lugh’s Spear lay as it had landed, just sunk fifty meters straight down until it rested on bedrock.

  It was as if there had been a perfect storm of circumstances conspiring to preserve the ship. The breach they’d come through had been the break that had occurred during the landing, the rest of the structure had held, and the corridor was clear of rubble . . . as were the rooms they began to investigate, one by one.

  Zem didn’t like the inside of Lugh’s Spear and made no attempt to enter. Jace couldn’t blame him because once outside the immediate hole, the area had to be lit with spell lights. They were underground, and constrained by the structure of the ship, and the hallway was as wide as any of the individual rooms they’d found.

  Doors were both open and closed and they found more items just left in the hurry to depart, all jumbled together.

  The corridor they worked in held larger quarters, for the officers, as notated on the blueprints. Inside the rooms, items—possessions—had been tossed around, but only the delicate had broken, and those could be easily reconstructed to show what they had been. And some of the furnishings, even in these “high status” people’s quarters, were pitifully shabby. Enough to make the heart . . . and the eyes, sting.

  Such courageous people.

  Jace was working with Andic Sanicle vizing all on a recordsphere before touching anything in the latest room—one shared by a married couple—when Zem contacted Jace telepathically.

  You have a scry from Druida City.

  He just stopped. He knew no one there. I am working!

  The Raz says to come up and take the scry.

  Jace cursed.

  “What is it?” asked Sanicle.

  “Scry for me. Ordered up,” Jace grumbled.

  Sanicle grinned. Now he’d be the one doing most of the work, would get most of the cut. And if he was the thief and slipped a few objects on his person . . . Jace ground his teeth, jerked a nod at the man. “I’ll be right back.”

  He ran lightly down the corridor, ducked under the wall that still slanted, and walked up the girder. As soon as he was on top, Raz T’Elecampane nodded at him and gestured another man down. “Go ahead and join Sanicle, continue with the work.”

  Jace felt his face freeze into a mask to hide his anger.

  “I promise you’ll get a cut,” Raz said.

  But it wouldn’t be the same amount, for sure. Jace jerked a nod. “Right. Who’s scrying me?”

  Raz’s eyes gleamed. “T’Licorice.”

  Jace grimaced. “I’ll be right back.”

  Raz lifted a brow. “Take your time.”

  Jace jogged to the communications hut, noticing the avid eyes of Funa who hung around it, and inside if she could manage that, more often than not. He suspected she was the one who’d told everyone about Glyssa’s calls.

  “You can leave now,” he said as he took the stool in front of the scry panel.

  She sneered at him, flounced her plump ass as she ducked through the opening of the tent. “You’re welcome,” her voice drifted back. “I was just keeping the connection open for you!”

  Jace swiveled to return the stare of the man looking out from the screen. At first glance, he didn’t look much like Glyssa with his sandy hair and washed-out blue eyes. But the shape of those eyes, and the intensity of the gaze, he had p
assed down to his daughter, along with freckles.

  “I am Fasic Almond T’Licorice,” the guy said.

  “I’m Jace Bayrum,” Jace responded.

  More silence.

  “I am sure that you have heard that my daughter will be returning to Druida City to”—the man’s gaze focused behind Jace toward the tent flap. Yeah, no doubt Funa was straining to eavesdrop—“to brief us on her discoveries there and the project.”

  “I heard,” Jace said. And obviously the man had heard his daughter was sleeping with Jace.

  “I would be pleased to invite you to visit us with Glyssa.”

  Embarrassed heat fired up Jace’s neck. “No.”

  The guy’s nose pinched. “We are a hospitable Family, you’d have your own suite.”

  Didn’t want him in Glyssa’s rooms.

  “And we’d respect your privacy.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jace lied. “But I can’t get away now.” He ducked his head. “Thank you for the invitation.”

  T’Licorice’s gaze drilled him. “I’m sorry you can’t accept. If you change your mind, please scry . . . viz me. Blessed be.”

  “Blessed be.”

  Thankfully the panel went dark.

  But Jace didn’t head out, seemed stuck to the wooden seat of the stool. How the hell had T’Licorice learned . . . well, the man was far from stupid. Glyssa and Camellia D’Hawthorn had been friends for years, which meant Camellia was on easy terms with Glyssa’s Family. Jace was sure Glyssa had reached out to her good friends for support.

  He wasn’t sure what her friends might say to Glyssa’s Family, but was sure they’d be on her side. In any event, Glyssa’s friends might have mentioned his name. That’s all a quick man would need to figure out the rest.

  He didn’t like knowing his affair with Glyssa was being talked about way back in Druida City. Lord and Lady knew what would be said of him, how he’d be judged, since he didn’t want to go along with her and be judged in person.

  There came a shout, and just outside the tent, Funa exclaimed, “What, Andic? You’re done? All right, I’ll shower with you.” She laughed and her steps ran away.