Lahsin just stared at him for a long, long moment, until she saw his spine stiffen, like he was going to turn or move again.
A shrieking alarm split the air. T’Yew Residence! She knew that sound.
The Hawthorn guard spun.
Lahsin bolted.
Northeast.
And prayed to the Lady for signs of BalmHeal.
Tinne let the hot waterfall pulse over him. He hadn’t been able to go to his bedroom where he and Genista had made love so often.
That hadn’t been the only place, of course, they’d been sexually crazy after their marriage. There wasn’t a room in his suite or hers where they hadn’t mated. Even here he kept his eyes closed. How was he going to live in these rooms?
He was dressing in his sitting room when he heard echoes of his Mamá’s musical voice outside his door, uncommonly shrill. Obviously she and everyone else now knew of his failure.
“Tinne? The Residence told me you were up. We think we should have a Family meeting.”
“The white room in five minutes. Talk to you then,” he said.
A few minutes later he entered the room, glad he’d chosen a different place than the one most often used—the green room, where he’d brought Genista to announce their marriage.
This confrontation was going to be bad, one of the worst things he’d ever faced. After many years his father, T’Holly, had finally achieved his dream of being Captain of the FirstFamily Council and thus All Councils. The whole Family—except Genista—had been making the social rounds last year, discreetly campaigning for T’Holly.
If Tinne and Genista’s marriage was found to be shattered and Tinne actually went ahead with her wishes for a divorce—his gorge rose again, and he forced it down—it would be the first divorce in the FirstFamilies in all the years on untamed Celta.
The scandal would be huge, would smear the Family reputation and honor for generations. A tarnished Family had to fight harder to survive.
The scandal would definitely put an end to T’Holly’s dream of being Captain for more than the past year.
Tinne kept telling himself that he’d live through this but still doubted it.
He stopped inside the door, but didn’t sit. Everyone was there, his parents, his G’Uncle Tab, his brother Holm, and his sister-in-law Lark. They all sat stiffly, faces various shades of impassivity, eyes various shadows of shock.
“Genista said she’d left messages for you explaining that she has requested a divorce.” He waved, and the documents that had been on his desk were ’ported to a table. He hadn’t touched them, didn’t ever want to touch them. Let the Family look at them if they wanted. “Here are the documents, the results of her seven tests and the legal forms from the SupremeJudge.”
The faces of his relatives blurred. His eyes couldn’t focus. He didn’t care. “I have acceded to her wishes to undergo the testing regarding whether to dissolve the marriage. Naturally I hope my tests will reveal that we can reconcile.” Was that his own voice, so cool and composed while his belly felt like it contained writhing snakes?
“But if we can’t reconcile, there will be a divorce.”
Shock swept through his Family like a tidal wave. Tinne felt each blow as his relatives understood what he’d said. His father aged in seconds.
All sweetness vanished from his Mamá’s link, which filled with a terrible hurt. She was hurting because he did.
He couldn’t bear that pain, so he angled his body away from her. He glanced at his G’Uncle Tab, a second father, his teacher, the man he would succeed. Tab’s expression had solidified to impassive stone, his eyes flattened. Tinne had no trouble believing this man had faced the dangers of the sea.
Swallowing hard, Tinne slid his gaze in the other direction toward his brother Holm and Holm’s HeartMate, FirstLevel Healer Lark. They sat thigh to thigh on a twoseat, Holm’s arm around her shoulders. Their link was so strong that he could almost see it. Stronger even than his parents’. His brother held himself in a deceptively casual manner, but his muscles had tensed. His heart, too, welled with grief. Grief that Tinne hurt, that this would hurt the Family for a long time to come.
Tears trickled down Lark’s face, and she linked hands with Holm.
The Residence spoke quietly. “D’Sea, the mind Healer, is here for Tinne’s testing.”
Saved! He no longer had to speak to his Family, didn’t have to suffer with them. Let them discuss this, figure out Family policy through the terrible scandal. He suspected he had only enough courage to survive the next few days of testing.
He turned on his heel, opened the door, and went through, closing it on his stricken Family. He met D’Sea at the teleportation pad. She was a small, middle-aged woman with a heart-shaped face and blue green eyes. She was formally dressed in a long tunic of velvet panels, light blue alternating with dark. Her full trous, bloused and cuffed at the ankles, showed midnight blue. Her hands were tucked in her opposite sleeves, which were long and square, holding pockets.
“Merry—” She stopped the standard greeting, cleared her throat. “Greetyou, GreatSir Holly.”
Tinne inclined his head. His whole body was stiff. “Greetyou.”
D’Sea didn’t meet his eyes. “You know that your . . . wife . . . consulted Healers to undergo the tests determining that your marriage was damaged beyond repair and you should divorce.”
“Yes.”
“I received notification that you also agreed to take the seven tests.”
“Yes.”
She dipped her head. “Very well. I had to have in-person confirmation from you.” She glanced at him, and Tinne sensed her Flair. “You are under no mind control.”
“No.”
A sigh issued from D’Sea. “Very well, the Healer, GrandLord T’Heather, and I will be overseeing your testing.” She hesitated. “Unless you want your sister-in-law, Lark—”
“No!”
“Very well.”
Every time she said that, Tinne knew she meant differently. She wanted this no more than he. She didn’t like the breaking of a marriage. Especially a FirstFamilies marriage. She stepped onto the teleportation pad, and for the first time her aqua eyes met his. “We will teleport to T’Heather’s personal Healing room in his Residence for the testing.”
Tinne didn’t want to say an empty “very well,” so he nodded. Nor did he want to go to testing, he wanted to pound out his feelings on his drum.
She held out her hand, and he took it. Her fingers were cool and dry. She sent him the image of a room he’d never seen before, a circular room with padded pale pink walls, and windows that let in bright sunlight. “On three. One. Two. Three.”
And they were there.
The moment he arrived, a comforting warmth enveloped him, seeming even to reach inside him and touch his heart to ease the hurt. Great Flair lived in this room, and Tinne was glad of it.
“Welcome, Tinne,” said T’Heather. The man looked more like a farmer, with large-knuckled hands, than the best Healer on Celta. He gestured with one of those big hands to a chair. Even though the chair looked like the most luxuriously comfortable chair available, one that would conform to Tinne’s body, he tensed.
“The testing’s beginning now?”
T’Heather jerked a nod. “Best finish this miserable task.”
A corner of Tinne’s mouth quirked up. “Good to know my fate’s in the hands of a sensitive Healer.”
T’Heather speared Tinne with a brown gaze. “Your lady—”
Tinne flinched.
Now T’Heather cleared his throat. “Genista Furze—”
Her birth name hurt worse. “Just get on with it.” Tinne’s nostrils quivered. “Most of all, I want it done.” He stalked to the chair and sat. Long and softly padded, the back rose above his head, the leg rest was longer than his feet. The chair arms were padded, too. The chair tilted back, and Tinne’s stomach clutched. It was harder to fight when off his feet, but not impossible.
T’Heather clasped his hand
s behind his back, stared at Tinne with brown eyes. “Divorce is not acceptable in our culture, and we don’t make it easy.”
Nothing about that morning had been easy, and Tinne hated being here.
“A person in a divorce must endure seven tests regarding their mental, emotional, and spiritual state, particularly regarding their spouse. Each test is designed to probe whether your marriage is sound or . . . not.”
Tinne didn’t want to listen. Didn’t like knowing that Genista had already been through the tests and their marriage was already judged unsound.
T’Heather scowled. “D’Sea, as mind Healer, and I, as FirstLevel Healer of Celta, will be testing each aspect of your being. These tests are based on the seven energy pulses that we Healers study. The matchmaker, GreatLord Saille T’Willow, will also test the relationship itself. We will use various tools.”
Why couldn’t it be a fighting pattern? Twenty patterns? Tinne knew how to master, win those. He knew how to take physical blows, rise above the pain of aching muscles, stinging slaps, bruises, and broken bones—
“Tinne!” T’Heather roared, his gaze was hard.
He bared his teeth. “Just get on with it.”
D’Sea stepped forward, her eyes fathomless. “We can stop this process at any time. Genista requested it and wants the divorce, but we all know that the most common solution to a dysfunctional Noble marriage is simple separation.”
“For life,” Tinne said.
She nodded, concern shadowing her eyes. “For life.”
“But if I fail these tests, my marriage is truly dead. There’s no hope of making it work.”
“There is really no ‘failing,’ the tests simply show us what is,” she said.
“But that’s what the tests determine, that my—our—marriage is dead.”
D’Sea opened her mouth and closed it, sharing a glance with T’Heather. “That is what the tests determine.”
“You’re too tense,” T’Heather said.
Tinne didn’t answer, couldn’t seem to relax his muscles. Not good.
D’Sea sighed and came toward them, holding a goblet. “A calmer, to distance your emotions until we test your heart-soul.”
“Why don’t we do the physical examination first?” T’Heather said. “The Hollys are a physical Family. It will release some of his frustration. Save the first day of emotional testing until tomorrow.”
Frowning, D’Sea said, “I don’t know . . .”
Tinne drank. It wasn’t nasty. Weariness eased his muscles a little. He closed his eyes, let the black white flashes behind his eyelids flare and fade. “Nice to know you Healers have a good procedure.”
T’Heather snorted. “I’ve never done divorce testing. Isn’t supposed to happen in FirstFamilies. Hardly legal.”
“Don’t blame me, I’m here because of Genista. I’d like another round of trying to mend my marriage.” But as Tinne said that, he wondered if it were true. He’d tried so hard already, he might have given all he could to Genista, especially since she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, give back. He felt scoured out.
The chair tilted and rose until he was upright. He opened his lashes to see T’Heather squinting at him and D’Sea walking toward him, with something that glowed brightly with violet light. Tinne’s stomach jumped. “What’s that?”
“An object that will show your spiritual health, especially with regard to your relationship with your wife.”
Tinne hunkered down. The shock of Genista’s request that had propelled him forward into action was wearing off, and he was faced with the reality of what he was doing. Having every fliggering part of him scrutinized and measured. With no secrets. Completely vulnerable.
He didn’t like it but what were his options? With typical Holly impulsiveness he’d already committed himself. His pride wouldn’t let him retreat.
D’Sea put the pouch on his head, and he got a slight shock, then it was nearly too hot to bear. The odor of lotus drifted around him.
“I want you to close your eyes and relax. Think peaceful thoughts, visualize a high mountaintop.”
The room’s light dimmed around him. He set himself the task of breathing evenly, centered himself, and definitely did not think of a high mountaintop. The one time he’d been in a mountain range, he and his brother had been in mortal peril. He thought of a hilltop instead, warm and sunlit in the summer, round and covered with long, fragrant grass.
“His spirit is fractured,” D’Sea said.
“Pretty nasty black jagged streak,” T’Heather said.
“Thank you,” Tinne replied courteously.
“Genista had such a streak, too, not surprising, since they’d lived in a cursed household for several years,” D’Sea said.
A lightning bolt struck Tinne’s hill. He said, “The curse was lifted last year.”
“Not soon enough to prevent irreparable hurt—to Genista, to you, to your marriage,” T’Heather said bluntly. He turned to D’Sea. “You’re the mind Healer, should we probe the streak of negative energy?”
“If it were a physical wound, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
“Yes.” T’Heather grimaced.
Three
At first the pain was small—a tugging and pulling at him inside, like someone had gotten his guts in their hands. He endured. Then he thought cold hands poked at his very heart, and he could barely breathe through the hurt. When they finally snagged his nerves and zinged his whole system with lightning, he arched and fell out of the chair and onto the floor. He welcomed the bruise on his cheek because that was hurt he understood.
He panted to catch his breath. He hated falling. Gritting his teeth, he rocked to his hands and knees and flung himself back into the chair. T’Heather leaned over him. Gentle fingers skimmed Tinne’s cheek, and it mended.
“Sorry,” T’Heather said. His expression went from concern to pity.
Tinne couldn’t face that and looked aside. His gut tightened as he flashed back to the time when he was in the starship Nuada’s Sword and had a kidney removed.
This had been worse.
And it was only the first test of seven.
D’Sea wasn’t there.
“That’s one of the worst,” T’Heather said. His shaggy gray brows lowered. “Can you go on?”
“Of course.” Tinne forced words from a dry throat.
The brows went up enough to wrinkle T’Heather’s forehead. “Get up and walk for me.”
Feeling like an old man, stretching muscle by muscle, Tinne stood. He wanted to hobble hunched around the room, but couldn’t show such weakness. He rolled his shoulders, shook out his legs and arms, then walked around the room. This close, he could see that the creamy pink walls had a faint pattern of pale purple heather sprigs. He might have liked it, once.
“Well enough,” T’Heather said gruffly. “We’ve scheduled three today and three tomorrow, with the last and the physical on the third day.”
Swallowing, Tinne said, “Couldn’t we get it down to two days?”
T’Heather shook his head. “I wouldn’t recommend four tests today.” His smile was an upward twitch of his lips. “One tests your ‘heart energy,’ and that’s bound to be rough.” He hesitated. “The lady took five full days for the tests, moving as quickly as possible. It’s a rugged examination schedule. Divorce testing is supposed to be grueling.” He eyed Tinne consideringly. “But if you want it in two . . . I’ve never known a tougher group than the Holly men.” T’Heather shrugged. “What say we do three tests today and the physical? Then we’ll attempt to finish four tests tomorrow.”
He glanced at the timer. “This first examination lasted a septhour and a half, but D’Sea and I believe that the spiritual energy is the one most affected by the curse.”
D’Sea walked in, looking pale, strained, and serene. “I don’t know why you and Genista never consulted me,” D’Sea said. “I could have helped.”
“Genista doesn’t care to talk about our loss.” He didn’t either. “We did go thr
ough some marriage counseling.” Short and spectacularly unsuccessful.
“She didn’t say much to us during the examinations, either,” T’Heather said.
“I want to finish this testing in two days,” Tinne repeated.
D’Sea raised her eyebrows and glanced at T’Heather.
He nodded soberly. “Three energy examinations and the physical today. The last four tests tomorrow.”
D’Sea searched Tinne’s face, her gaze probing. “Very well.” Tinne said, “What’s next?”
“Examination of your Flair,” T’Heather said.
Scrutinizing another very important aspect of his life. “Right.” D’Sea went to a worktable and messed with herbs and pouches. Tinne settled into his fighting stance and practiced a basic pattern. His body moved better, getting back to normal.
“Please resume your seat,” T’Heather said.
Tinne checked the state of his clothes. Dry. Wrinkled. Didn’t smell too bad. He wished he wore fighting garb. He went back to the chair, sat, breathed, and pretended to relax.
“Regarding the last test results, since it doesn’t seem as if you want to have individual consultations with me as a mind Healer . . .” She waited, but Tinne said nothing, so she went on. “The best way to Heal your spiritual energy flow is to participate in meaningful Family rituals, meditate every day, and schedule time each week in the Holly HouseHeart. I will send the last recommendation to your father, so he is aware of your needs.”
Tinne’s breath left him noisily. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
He liked the HouseHeart, wouldn’t mind spending time there, but being in the rest of the Residence would be difficult, especially if his entire Family—including the entire staff—would be watching him after this. Which, of course, they would.
A divorce.
A major scandal.
A major hurt.
“Some communion with nature would be good,” D’Sea said.
Heart Fate Page 3
