Until winter.
She didn’t want to lose him, to lose whatever precious gifts he could bring her . . . lead her to. So she took his hand—warm, calloused fingers of a farmer, and a warrior—but she trusted him more than she trusted herself.
Until they reached the edge of a rocky cliff and stepping-stones that crossed a deep chasm. The stones were wide, the gaps between them moderate. She could make it. She’d never feared falling.
She took the first step and the chasm disappeared and the stones became tufts of solid ground in a swamp. The safe spots appeared smaller, the distance between them huge. Now fear invaded.
“Come with me. Trust me,” he said.
“I am not good enough. I will fail you.”
“You can’t.” His fingers encompassed hers, full of strength and assurance. He reminded her of someone else. And if you couldn’t trust the Lord, who could you trust?
“Where’s your Lady?”
He smiled and she knew she’d follow him anywhere. “I’m holding her hand.”
Then the swamp was past them, and they were back into a grove of trees of beautiful autumn colors, green grass, summer flowers still in bloom. A bower indeed.
And the man limped and they fell to the sweet-smelling grasses dotted with blossoms. His hands roamed over her, and she knew he wasn’t a lover she’d had before. His touch was intent, intense, caressing her with a sureness that aroused until fire lived within her, ready to engulf and set her soaring like the greatest flame in the highest bonfire.
His mouth was on hers, his legs tangled with hers, his sex meeting hers, and they plunged together and were wild and tender, then spent.
She rose just before dawn. She didn’t recall anything about her dreams except that they were exceptional. Since she had to be at the shop early, she took a waterfall, dressed, and ate more quickly than usual.
From her bedroom window, she could see lights on in Cardus’s home—the kitchen and the mainspace where there was a small area for dining. A twinge of envy went through her as she thought of Cardus having Whin with him.
A change, even since yesterday. She wanted company, wanted to share her home, at least with a Fam Companion.
Though as she ate alone, she could picture Cardus across the table from her, which seemed fairly intimate. As if the changes inside herself were progressing more rapidly than she’d realized. An image from her childhood came to her mind of ice on a pond on a warm spring day. How it had melted, shifted, broken, absorbed into calm waters that reflected the blue sky.
Today was Halloween, tonight that holiday would be acknowledged, and at midnight Samhain would be celebrated and the year would turn new. Time for change, and if she wouldn’t force change on herself, she wouldn’t delay it, either.
She went out to pick up her newssheet, and her heart bumped as she saw Cardus just within his gate, reading his own. Whin stood next to him with a large bone in his mouth.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
“Thieves broke into GrandLord Quinoa’s summer home and stole some jewelry and paintings.”
He looked up at her and his glance was cool, not the warmth she was expecting. Her disappointment was deep—and unreasonable. They’d only shared a steamy kiss after all. And he was a man, kisses meant little to them. And he was a warrior, so crime would be of paramount importance.
“How much jewelry do you have in there?” He jerked a nod to her house.
Irritation rose. “Some. Things I like to wear.” She angled her wrist so the rising sun caught the crystal of one of the antique watches she’d restored. “My collection of wrist timers.”
He eyed her house. “You should have left the high iron fence up at the sides and in the front.”
“I don’t want to live behind bars.”
He grunted, looked down at the newssheet, and his mouth flattened even more. When he glanced back up at her, his eyes were more than cool—glacial. “The gossip column says that GentleSir Asant will be taking an elusive beauty, one Nista Gorse, to the Halloween and Samhain rituals officiated by the high priestess and priest at RoundDome Temple. Is that true?”
Genista was stunned. She shouldn’t rate any mention in the newssheets here. She’d been careful not to do so. “What? You read the gossip columns?”
Cardus shook the papyrus at her. “Is it true?”
“No.” She rubbed her temples, this was not how she’d expected their next meeting to go. “Yes. I suppose. He had tickets and people have been pushing me to get out more, and it’s New Year’s . . . and many people will be at that ritual so it’s not like I’ll be really with him . . .”
His gaze bored into her. “Yes or no?” he asked softly.
Her lips tightened. “I said I’d meet him at the RoundDome Temple and take one of his tickets for the rituals.”
“He’s not picking you up here?” Cardus’s gaze flicked toward her, the gate, the front door.
She drew herself up. “I was planning on having a personal ritual here.” She swept a hand around. “In my back grassyard, before I leave for the public rituals.” Lifting her chin, she continued, “I had hoped to invite”—she paused, heavily—“at least, Whin.”
Whin gave a half yip around his bone. I will come to ritual. I am good. I have watched some. His whole back end wagged.
Genista bestowed a smile on him. “Thank you.” Then she let her smile cool as she sent it to Cardus. She scooped up her newssheet. “Are you going to have a personal New Year’s ceremony here?” She stared directly into his eyes, knowing her own would be hot blue to his green ice chips. Who would win?
Second by second his expression eased. He inclined his head in a small nod, kept his gaze on hers. “Yes, I will be having a ritual here.” He paused. “I might . . . like . . . a Lady to celebrate with me, opposite my Lord.”
A breath filtered out of her.
Dog claws scraped the sidewalk as Whin raced back and forth. Better, better, best! I will be here for party tonight! Gifts at New Year’s!
Now Cardus was smiling. Down at the dog, unfortunately, and why should Genista care? “Yes.”
A Fam gets a collar from his FamPeople. Even a very new Fam, if he has been good. Whin slid a look at Genista.
“That’s right,” she said, ignoring the pang as she thought of the Holly Fams she’d known.
“I can get him a collar from both of us today,” Cardus said.
She stopped herself from offering gilt and insulting him.
I have been good. Whin whipped his tail even faster. Sidled over to the hedge—the much lower hedge—and tried to put his front paws on it.
He yelped as he hit her spellshields, dropped his bone.
Genista said a couplet and let down a section of the shield. “Come here and I will bespell you so you can always enter.”
Whin picked up his bone, cleared the hedge in one leap, brushed against her legs, front and back. “Sit!”
He did.
She set her hands on his head, visualized the spellshields and the aura color that Whin would need to get through. The FamDog shivered under her fingers and dropped his bone again, hard on her toes, but stayed still.
“Done,” Genista said, then murmured another spell to make her feet stop stinging.
Whin tilted his head and looked over his back. I am pretty and silver. He picked up his bone, leapt over the hedge again, and pranced back to Cardus.
Again disappointment speared Genista. “You don’t want to come in?” she asked the dog but didn’t stoop to offer him a bribe of food.
Whin waved his tail a bit more apologetically. Fussy.
Genista didn’t believe that. She drew herself up but didn’t contradict him.
Meeting her eyes again, Cardus said, “Have you dog-proofed your house yet?”
She hadn’t even thought of it, and now was distracted from the man to all her pretty possessions. Which weren’t nearly as important as the man . . . or the dog.
“No.”
Anothe
r nod, but Cardus’s face had gone back to inscrutable. “You have time before you must leave for work.”
“Yes.” She hurried back in, realizing she hadn’t put on slippers and her feet were frigid.
Once inside, she slapped the newssheet on the table open to the society column. “Mysterious and elusive beauty, Nista Gorse.” Dammit!
Luckily they had no pic of her to print, and she’d better add a rippling layer of illusion to her face so her image couldn’t be captured well by any kind of mechanical Flair. How irritating. She muttered, “Mysterious and elusive . . .” That piece had to be submitted by Asant himself. Naturally he hadn’t included that she was a lowly tech.
Genista flinched to think what Mistrys Faverel would have to say to her, and thought of lines she could use as she puttered around the house, putting delicate objects beyond Whin’s flapping tail or leaping paw reach.
Inside his own stark mainspace, Cardus took the newssheet in his hands and ripped it again and again. That didn’t take much hand strength since the papyrus was constructed to disintegrate after a day or two, and it relieved most of his feelings. Genista would be going out with another man.
Whin growled and Cardus looked at him. The dog sent telepathically, I do NOT need shredded papyrus. I do NOT pee in the house. Another growl. Or shit, either. I didn’t last night and won’t. I am a good FamDog.
“Oh. Ah.” Cardus chuckled. “Of course you don’t.”
But the dog still looked offended.
“I’ll have a gift for you tonight.”
A Fam collar!
“Yes, for the moment, but eventually Genista and I should buy a collar for you together.” Nice idea. He liked it a lot.
Not the first thing they’d do together. That was celebrating Samhain tonight. Her Lady to his Lord.
Considering Whin, he said, “You said you weren’t much of a watchdog, eh?”
Whin dropped his head and his bone but rolled his eyes up to look at Cardus. Watching is no fun. Hunting is fun.
“Understand that. But the thefts concern me.” There was no better target for a gang than Genista Furze and her FirstFamily wealth. “I’ll visit the local guardhouse today.” He’d checked in with the guardsmen, both the main guardhouse and his local station, when he’d moved in, of course.
Told them he was on bodyguard duty for a person living incognito.
That hadn’t leaked so he knew those guards could be trusted. Perhaps now he’d have to reveal Genista’s identity, but he hoped not. Having the most famous beauty of Celta living in a small bungalow and working in a clock repair shop was just too juicy not to share.
“Want to come with me, Whin?”
Whin looked mournfully at Genista’s house. FamWoman did not ask me to come to work with her.
“Pretty sure that her employers wouldn’t welcome a FamDog . . . at least not today. We might work up to it. Sitting in the back of a shop all day doesn’t sound like fun, either.”
No.
“Finish off that bone, and I’ll get you another treat while we’re out this morning.”
We go to guardhouse first?
“After we see Genista off for work.”
You in front every morning.
That sounded like Whin had watched before approaching them.
“I’m the good watchdog, remember?”
Yes. I will go bury bone. The dog trotted to the back door and used the pattern Cardus had given him to open the door and drop the spellshields. Which of their yards would have a hole?
Strolling into the corner of the mainspace he’d fitted as an office, Cardus studied the map of Gael City. His and Genista’s homes were indicated as well as the Faverels’ shop and the route Genista usually took, along with all the guardhouses. He examined the main sacred grove of the city just across the street from RoundDome Temple. Genista would probably teleport there. He hoped she wouldn’t allow Asant to bring her back.
Cardus had to plan. If she teleported to RoundDome Temple, he could follow, but teleporting took a great deal of Flair, and Cardus could teleport only twice—at the most, three times—in a day. Depleting his energy was not good strategy.
He could use the Holly name and arrange to be included in the celebrants at RoundDome Temple, but he didn’t want Genista to see him. He decided to join the mass circle in the sacred grove and watch for her to exit the temple after the ritual inside was done, then follow her home.
Sooner or later he would have to tell her that he’d been hired as a bodyguard for her, but their association was still so new and tentative and growing that he wanted it to be later. When she was more attached to him, so she’d listen instead of just shut him out of her life. After he knew she would let him protect her full-time and he could tell the Hollys he was finished with the job.
He didn’t know what she’d do if she found out now. Perhaps something that would keep him from safeguarding her.
And he didn’t want another man taking care of her. Though he had no indication that Asant had any interest in Genista other than sexual.
Or more than sexual. How often had she met him? She wouldn’t have gone out with a perfect stranger, so she must have met him at work.
The front door opened and Whin ambled in, saw the papyrus on the dining room table, and yanked it down with his teeth, brought it over to drop on Cardus’s feet.
He picked it up, wadded it, and jammed it into the deconstructor.
Staccato pings came from the timing alarm he’d set last night so he’d be in the front yard to see Genista leave early for her employment.
He wanted to tail her, as he’d done when she’d first gotten the job—to and from the Faverels’ shop—but there was no way she wouldn’t notice.
And he didn’t want to annoy her further.
Or show her his own annoyance.
He had told her to become more sociable. Truly believed that she was a more outgoing person than she’d shown herself to be in the months here. But he hadn’t meant for her to go out with another man.
Even though she’d emphasized that she was attending a public ritual, one with the top hundred and twenty people in Gael City, there was no getting around the fact that she was meeting another man there. Another man was providing her with a ticket.
I understand now! Whin said. You don’t like that another male is sniffing FamWoman.
Five
Cardus winced but couldn’t deny the FamDog’s observation. “No. I don’t like her spending time with another man.”
But WE will be HERE with FamWoman tonight for blessing and gifts. Being petted.
There was that. Though Genista would be seen with Asant in public by all the most important people, would hold his hand during the rituals, having a private ceremony here was better.
Better, but he wished it had been exclusive. He saw a shred of newssheet he’d missed, ripped it again, and stuffed it in the deconstructor.
Being PETTED! Whin shouted.
Yes, intimacy. Heat licked through Cardus, settled, as it so often had, in his groin.
Time to go out front, Whin prompted.
“Yes.”
He stepped out and grabbed his recent prop, the rake, desultorily dragged it the length of his front yard from the stoop to his gate.
Genista exited her home, set the house spellshields, and stepped deliberately on the stones she’d set that just matched her stride.
She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, appearing gently vulnerable, and any harsh feelings he had for her evaporated like the rime of frost on autumn leaves.
Cardus went out of his gate, crossed to hers, and was there when she let down that spellshield. He opened her low front iron gate and bowed her out.
“Thank you,” she said.
He held out a hand, and she hesitated, then put her fingers in his. He kissed them, reluctantly let them go. “Have a good day.” He paused. “I thought I’d start the ritual just before sunset.”
She smiled and the air around him seemed to warm
. “I’ll be home by then.”
He shut the gate behind her and watched as she raised the spellshields. She was good about that, keeping her house and property shielded; maybe he was being too critical. No. He was a good guard and wanted her safe. He’d just mind his comments to her.
“Merry meet,” he said the beginning farewell sequence.
“And merry part.”
“And merry meet again, this evening, Nista.” He tried to put a caress in his tones, and as she glanced at him with flushed surprise, he figured she’d heard it.
Whin barked for attention.
Genista petted him. “I’ll see you later, too.”
Whin licked her hand and she laughed. With a last wave, she headed up the street.
I want you to follow her to work, Cardus sent privately to the dog. That’s almost like hunting.
I can hunt and explore on the way back?
Yes. Try not to attract her attention.
Mistrys Faverel was sour with an undertone of excitement when Genista walked through the back door of the shop.
Master Faverel winked and said, “Greetyou, my beautiful and elusive employee.”
“Greetyou. Will we be working on more no-time spells today?”
“Humph.” Mistrys Faverel crossed her arms and tapped her toe, then flung out an arm toward the front of the shop. “You’re working sales this morning. With me.”
“I’d rather—”
“I’d rather you keep your hands off my husband.”
“I never!”
“Brassi, that’s enough.” Master Faverel slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and kissed her cheek. “I told you that I asked Nista to become my journeywoman. If she agrees, she will be working with me, and not much in the shop . . . unless you and she talk about hours. But I love you, not her. I will always love you. Try to think of her as a Son’sDaughter. I do.”
Mistrys Faverel’s eyes widened; she shot Genista a comprehensive glance from head to toe, then looked back at her husband. “You do?”
“Yes.”
“Very well,” Mistrys Faverel said, stepping from the embrace and turning to walk into the shop, swishing her hips. “But I need her today. For the curiosity seekers who’ve seen the newssheet and know she works here. And for shoppers who haven’t purchased their New Year’s gifts yet. It’s one of our busiest days of the year, and we are closing early.”
Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta Page 22
