Heart Fate

by Robin D. Owens

  Twenty-eight

  The Green Knight closed at noon the next day for the winter solstice, Yule. Classes had been light, especially thin of women, who continued to be those who managed holidays. Tinne hadn’t seen his Mamá or his sister-in-law, Lark, for days.

  He had held a small Yule ritual in the Turquoise House and anticipated two more with his Family and Lahsin.

  Dressed in his most flamboyant clothes of red and green silkeen with gold trim, Tinne arrived at T’Holly Residence a full septhour before the early sunset. Ilexa was already there, showing off the emerald collar he’d given her to the other Fams.

  He went to his rooms in T’Holly Residence only for as long as it took him to snag his best ceremonial drum. The body was deep reddwood, the skin excellent, accented with gold tassels. He’d stenciled holly leaves and berries along with mistletoe around the top and bottom.

  His rooms looked appropriate for the season, but he still didn’t want to live in them, wanted to remain in the Turquoise House with little pressure. He had begun to like living alone. It was improving his temper and maybe his character. A good experience, being away a while from his overprotective Family.

  He set his drum in the large gathering room that would host the Family after the ritual. To his surprise, his father had decided the ritual should take place outside in the sacred grove. T’Holly had gone to great lengths to clear the snow and erect a weathershield—a minimal weathershield so the Family would experience the touch of winter. Tinne got the impression that his father had used his own great Flair for these arrangements, but Tinne was glad he’d brought his heavy llamawool cape.

  He let himself be absorbed into the bustle of preparations by his Mamá after her absent kiss. He dressed long tables and sideboards in holiday linens ready for great platters of food.

  Then it was time, and they trooped to the grove. Tinne stood between his brother and Tab, linked hands with them as the whole circle was doing and felt the sweet surge of Family Flair. They stood and let the winter silence envelop them as the sun died.

  He thought he’d suffer through the Yule ritual with his Family, but it went well. The pervasive love was there as always, but his father showed more humility as he officiated as priest, more of a willingness to allow the spirit of the Lord to move through him. T’Holly was more clear-eyed regarding fate, looking to a future that would never hold what he’d wanted all his life—years of the Captaincy of the FirstFamilies Council and thus all the Celton Councils. Tinne was impressed. And touched even more when his mother went through the ceremony as the Lady with a bright gaze and soft expression.

  His father had changed, and in doing so, the relationship between his parents had changed, and his Mamá welcomed that, too.

  Everyone felt the change when the energy from T’Holly and D’Holly cycled through them. There was less fierce determination in obtaining his own goals from T’Holly and more openness.

  Instead of asking the Lady and Lord to fulfill his wishes, T’Holly asked to be led to the right destiny.

  The Flair that flowed through the circle was finally free of any taint. The party afterward was as loud and raucous and joyous as those Tinne recalled from his childhood.

  When most of the Family had retired to their bedchambers to celebrate privately or to rest, Tinne went upstairs to his old rooms. There he stashed his drum and got a sturdy bag and put his gifts into it. He sauntered to the teleportation room and ’ported to BalmHeal Residence, glad Lahsin continued to keep this opening in the house’s spellshields for him.

  It was a septhour before midnight, and when he arrived, he sent his mind questing through the too-silent Residence. Surely she wasn’t holding the ritual outside in the grove! But she might have sufficient Flair for shields . . .

  No, she was in the stillroom, probably getting apple cider for the ceremony. He sniffed and smelled freshly baked bread, but didn’t know if she’d baked it herself, imbuing it with good household spells as most Ladies did, or whether she’d pulled it from a no-time. She wouldn’t have had any true grain from the last summer. Did BalmHeal Residence have a special no-time for ritual foods? Would it share with them?

  He carried his contributions to the ritual, drink in a new fancy carafe he’d bought the day before from a glass artist. The carafe was for the Residence. Tinne had two gifts for Lahsin. Gifts were usually given on New Year’s Day, right after Samhain, a month and a half earlier, but he hadn’t known Lahsin then.

  That stopped him. It seemed like he’d known her forever. But he hadn’t known her at Samhain.

  He didn’t like to remember before the divorce. Just a couple of eightdays ago, but the catastrophic event was like a jagged tear in his life. Before and after. Always would be. When his tender mind skittered to memories of Samhain, there was misery. They’d—he’d—lost his unborn child just before Samhain last year.

  Switch mind and emotions back to Lahsin!

  He hadn’t known her. That seemed odd since she graced his thoughts with her presence. He’d never acknowledged their link, never let it grow from a microfilament. Perhaps she had been like a shy bloom in the very back of his mind, as quiet as she’d been with the Yews. To think of her, to want her when he was married to another, would have been dishonorable.

  “You just going to march through my halls with no greeting, son of the Hollys?” demanded BalmHeal Residence.

  Tinne winced. Bowed. “Happy Yule, oh, great Residence.”

  It grunted. “Come to do a ritual here? Got a gift for me?”

  Tinne said a spell for his sack to hover, he reached in and revealed the carafe. He held up the elegant teardrop-shaped glass of deep ruby with gold accents. “For you.”

  That caused a few seconds of silence.

  “Good manners. You are welcome to stay this longest night.”

  “Thank you.” He noticed candles burning along the hallway, there’d been one in the teleportation room. “Did Lahsin light every candle?”

  “She lit the great ritual candle in the great hall before sunset and said the prayers. I took some energy and light from that one to set the rest afire.”

  Tinne bowed again. “Blessings.” He hadn’t needed to bring any gift to T’Holly Residence, but had given the Turquoise House something. It was another being he hadn’t known at New Year’s but which had become important to him. He’d given the House all of his Mamá’s compositions and listened to effusive thanks. He’d lit the great candle—one that would last through the night and be lit on each of the major holidays for the rest of the year and burn out on this night next year—in the well of a fountain. He and the House had said prayers together, and he’d summoned energy and Flair to charge the most important House spells for the year. Mitchella had only funded the spells on a need-to-use basis.

  The Turquoise House had played a triumphant fanfare, and Tinne had left the House smiling, sure that music would play all day and night. It had taken so little to please the House. Tinne didn’t think it had even occurred to the House to ask him to stay. It was accustomed to being alone on holidays.

  As this Residence was. He repeated, “Blessings for you over the next year.”

  “And for you,” BalmHeal Residence said stiffly.

  Then the air changed, and Tinne knew Lahsin had arrived. He felt a wisp of hope from the place and winced again. She wouldn’t stay, would move when she felt safe, or in the spring. He wouldn’t stay, either. Not here nor in the Turquoise House. Sometime he’d move back to T’Holly Residence, and in the far future perhaps to the rooms over the fencing salon.

  “Merry Yule, Residence!” Lahsin’s voice caroled through the house. She sounded happy, and that warmed Tinne, much as he thought it warmed the Residence itself.

  “Greetyou, Lahsin Rosemary,” the Residence replied.

  Tinne blinked. He hadn’t known that she’d taken a surname, her MotherDam’s Family name. A MotherDam who was dead, had been dead before Lahsin was sold to T’Yew.

  A name as pretty as the girl . . .
woman.

  “Holly SecondSon is here,” the Residence said.

  “Oh.”

  He strode down the corridor to meet her and found her putting away her cloak and humming a little spell to dry and clean wet splatters.

  “It’s snowing?” He hadn’t glanced outside for septhours.

  “Yes. I wanted to walk in it.” She smiled, and he was relieved to see it was genuine. He hadn’t known if she’d wanted his presence. “Thick, beautiful snowflakes. I don’t think it will last. I’ve become more weather savvy. The snow is a simple blessing on this longest night.” She shivered.

  “Passage?” he asked too sharply.

  She chuckled. “No, just cold. I don’t want the Residence to use all its energy on heat, especially on this room.”

  Tinne glanced at the elaborate candlestick, gleaming bronze in the light from the single, huge, multi-wicked candle it held. Around the bottom were fresh pine branches, giving a nice scent.

  “You’ve done a lovely job.”

  Her smile widened. “You should see the ritual room. I’m using an old corner room, not the HouseHeart.”

  The Residence wouldn’t let her into the HouseHeart. She could probably sense its thick shields and force it, but Lahsin would never force anything, even in desperate straits. He was afraid she was still too soft.

  But no defensive training tonight. He held up the bottle. “I have an offering for the ritual and a gift for the Residence.” The carafe gleamed richly.

  “So beautiful.” She reached out but brought her fingers back, like a child told too often not to touch.

  “You should carry it, as priestess and Lady tonight.”

  As she took it, her fingers brushed against his, sending a sweet surge of energy through him, something he refused to savor when they were training. Tonight was different. The longest night, the celebration started so long ago on ancient Earth, but brought here and modified to this planet’s revolution. Picking up a bulging sack, she went to the hall.

  With a sideways glance at him, she said, “Do you intend to be priest and Lord tonight?”

  “Just a participant,” he said. “If you want me to—”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I only crafted the ritual for the Lady’s part.” She turned, left, and went down the corridor.

  “Spent septhours in the library,” grumbled the Residence.

  He smiled. “I don’t have any experience in being priest or Lord, haven’t crafted a ritual. Though there are some that I could do by memory, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Don’t know that I’ll ever be a Lord in a ritual as I’m not the Heir. My father officiates Family rituals, and when he passes on, my brother will be the head of the Family, and he and his wife will lead.”

  Lahsin stopped. “But surely you will have intimate Family—”

  Tinne stared at a flickering flame in a sconce down the hall. “I have no plans for another marriage or children for now.” He glanced at her. “Just like you.”

  She shivered. “No, I don’t want to be married anytime soon, either.” She started walking again, and Tinne kept pace.

  “Most people would expect the both of us to wed again soon.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said.

  “Me, either.”

  “Does your Family pester you?”

  His smile was ironic. “Not yet.”

  “That’s good. But you’re a man, they won’t be able to force you into doing what they want.”

  “Family pressure is Family pressure, so that’s not as easy as it sounds. You’re an adult, no one can force you to do anything, either. It was wrong for your Family to force you as a child. Lahsin, you should file a suit against T’Yew for abuse.”

  “I’m free from him. That’s enough.” She grimaced as she gestured to a door at the end of the hall. “Now I am not in a fit state for the ritual.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I was the one who brought up the topic.”

  “Is the room ready for the ritual? Putting it in order . . .”

  “It’s prepared.”

  “Then let’s enter with good intentions and meditate.”

  She inhaled deeply, let the breath go slowly. “Yes.”

  He opened the door and held it. She placed the carafe on the decorated altar, between a loaf of bread and plump berries, took out a pretty ceramic jug of cider and put it by a plate of sweet cakes. The altar was low, with fat pillows on the floor, another ancient custom from the first days of the colonists.

  Four large ritual cauldrons stood in the exact cardinal directions, off-center of the walls of the room. Small branches, dropped from storms, not cut, along with a colored incense were at each cauldron. When they were lit during circle casting, they’d provide heat and light for the ritual. Tinne liked the setup.

  “I’ve used some old ideas,” she muttered.

  He smiled. She sat down on a corner pillow of fiery red velvet fringed with long strands of red beaded crystals.

  Making a show of glancing around the place—at once simple and exotic—he returned his gaze to her. “Wonderful. It reminds me of a HouseHeart.”

  “I’ve never been in a HouseHeart,” she said wistfully.

  He opened his mouth to comment, realized it would be negative, and stopped. Sinking onto a huge light blue velvet pillow, the seams beaded with skycrystal, he said, “The Turquoise House and I have started constructing a HouseHeart for it.”

  “Can you build a HouseHeart? Don’t they just evolve?”

  Tinne shrugged. “I don’t know. The FirstFamily Residences all have keystones, HouseStones, that were infused with Flair. The Turquoise House has stones but no secure place.”

  “Midnight is coming, you’d best be starting the ritual,” the Residence said with a window rattle. “Stinking up my walls and my tapestries and pillows with incense.”

  “They will be all the more cherished and spellbound that way,” Lahsin said softly.

  “Don’t know when someone will do another ritual. Might mold in the meantime from what you’re doing tonight.”

  “We won’t let you be completely abandoned again,” Tinne said. “That’s a blessing you should consider on this holiday. Tonight should be a night of light, not grumblings.”

  A frigid wind swept the room, the door banged open and shut, and Tinne knew the Residence had subsided into another sulk.

  “I think you offended it.” Lahsin tilted her head and smiled, and Tinne felt the warmth of it. Feelings stirred inside him. He liked being with her. Too much. Her smile faded, and she looked away. Her long, pretty fingers played with the fringe. “Tinne, why are you here?”

  “No one should be alone on Yule, do a ritual alone.”

  She looked baffled. “Some people like being alone.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was one of those. Introverts. Maybe she wanted him to go, but he was determined to stay. He lounged back on his pillow, stretched out his legs. Behind him, even through the tapestry, the stone wall was cold. “Perhaps I came to celebrate Yule with a friend.”

  Uncertainty appeared in her eyes, “We’re friends?”

  “I hope so.” Point made, he came away from the cold wall.

  She flushed. “Let’s meditate on how that even in the longest night, the dark of winter, there is always the spark of light and hope.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye then closed her lashes and shifted on her pillow.

  Tinne swallowed at the sight of her, beautiful and young and touched by sorrow, but still with the burning brightness of hope.

  Hope he wasn’t sure he had. But he closed his eyes and settled into his inner balance.

  A few minutes later she rose without speaking. Without thought, he stood, too. She went to the altar, lit a white taper, then crossed to the cauldron in the east, and he joined her. She held out the candle and said, “Call the Eastern Guardians of the Circle.” So, he did. When she gestured he lit the incense, then handed her the candle to light the cauldron.

  They cast the circle tog
ether, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. With the Turquoise House, his intent and focus had been on the young House itself, grateful that he’d had such a place to stay and wanting to give back to the House.

  With his Family, he’d been one of many, a beloved son, but still held a supporting role.

  Here, now, with Lahsin, he finally felt the ritual was for himself— and her. Concern flickered through him when he realized they were creating memories, bonds, between them, and that probably wasn’t wise, but it was too late. He set the disturbing notion aside and focused on the ceremony, took his place on his pillow, and let her draw and weave the energies.

  Her ceremony was beautiful. She was slow and careful in her simple phrasing, her gestures graceful. Tinne subsided into a semi-trance, like he did during the best rituals. Half hearing her prompts, he responded correctly, gave and accepted blessings.

  “Our Yule meditation,” she said. “In this time of dark, we reflect upon old habits that have not served us well and release them. They are dead and gone and will fade away, letting new ways come. This dark is fertile, holding the seeds of our new hopes and dreams and lives, nourishing them like rich soil. Let us focus on the new aspects of ourselves to be revealed.”

  Her voice was so fervent, her determination so strong, Tinne thought he felt a spark of hope flash to him through their bond and burn inside. It felt good.

  “As the dark needs the light, the light needs the dark. We have experienced dark times this year, times of”—her voice wobbled a little, Tinne’s breath shortened—“pain and fear and despair. But we let the roots of those negative emotions shrivel and die in this longest night, to be replaced by joy and the wonders coming into our lives with the lengthening days and brightening light.”

  Hurt came. He didn’t fight it. The more he fought, the less he’d heal. So he let it come, recognized the pain of divorce. But it was past. He’d put it behind him and embrace the future.

  “We accept the blessings we receive every day and thank the Lady and Lord. We are grateful for the seeds lying dormant in winter, the buds and blossoms of spring, the bounty and food of summer and harvest.”