“You don’t like fireworks?” Walker asked.
“Not particularly,” she said. Suddenly the long septhours of the day pressed on her and she wanted to be alone in the quiet.
“We’ll go to your room.” Again he linked arms with her.
“Thank you.”
Sed-wy. Pret-ty Sedwy.
She glanced at Walker. A faint smile hovered on his lips. Walker Clover, are you speaking telepathically to me? She knew he was. Was glad that he continued to try something new, even this late in the day, even after all he’d experienced.
Pretty Sedwy. His mental voice was light, teasing.
Handsome Walker, she teased back.
No, just one of the Clo-ver boys.
He’d managed to establish a private connection with her, no fumbling, no several tries to get it right. Impressive. Perhaps that was an effect of coming into his Flair at an older age and all at once, but more likely it was a function of his Flair for people. He’d been in her company for a full afternoon and evening, was learning her, had been watching her as she had him.
Did she dare comment on what he’d just said, dare to push him a little more? Special Walker, she sent mentally.
No, just one of the Clover boys.
No, Walker, she contradicted him. Your skin is a slightly lighter tone than most of the Clovers, your hair has a different tint of red than other brown-haired Clovers. Most of all, your ears are different.
“My ears!” he said aloud.
She didn’t switch, better he get accustomed to mindspeech. If you have one noble feature, it is your ears. They are fine, delicate, set well against your head.
He flushed, including those ears. “We are going to the southern wall. We’ve been buying the land around us, and the lower south block was once a street. We petitioned to close it since it wasn’t used much. It’s part of the three-block-by-three-block area we own. Eventually we will encompass both south park and north grove within our buildings.” He flashed a not very sincere smile. “At least that’s the last plans I heard.”
She settled the strap of Lucor’s case across her body. They went through the southwestern door of the courtyard, angled through the corridors until they came to a wall that had once been an outside wall, but was now the north wall of the new southern block.
“It’s top-of-the-pyramid construction,” Walker assured her. “And borders directly on the park now. Of course we’ve landscaped the park, too.”
She slid a glance his way as they climbed the new, elegant stairs. Spell-lights came on as they passed. Then they were at a gleaming and polished cherry door. She wanted to set her hands on his face, comfort him. Once again she realized how easy it was to be in his company, how she’d felt completely natural with him. Because of his Flair, or his innate manner, or his solid character and kindness.
Nothing deeper than attraction and affection, of course.
Now he was staring at her, his eyes an intense green with hints of silver gray.
She hadn’t noticed his lips but they were fine, too, and coming closer...
His mouth was on hers and she withdrew her arm from his to wrap her hands behind his neck. He was warm and she was colder than she thought. His muscles were hard, and she felt softer than she thought. His kiss was demanding and his tongue ravaging, and she didn’t think at all.
Heat enveloped her, and a strong throbbing need pounded within her, radiating from her sex, shivering her nerves, exploding in her brain. Lord and Lady, he felt good!
Eight
Then he was gently setting her aside, and they gazed at each other. Sedwy was all too aware that if the door had been open, they’d have made it to bed, and sex.
“I don’t do this,” she gasped. Her words were a little high, her eyes felt wild, her hair tumbled. Had he put his hands in her hair?
Yes.
And clamped one on her butt. She wished it were there now.
“Of course you don’t.” His voice was so patently calm and his features so fierce with yearning that she was able to yank her own calm around her. If she looked at him from the corner of her eye, she believed she could see the sparking of his Flair.
“I don’t sleep with women after a few hours of meeting, either.”
“Of course you don’t,” she echoed, blinked to clear the red mist of sex from her vision, drew in a deep breath to settle herself, ignored the demands of her lusty body.
This time she followed her instincts and ran her fingers down the side of his cheek. She’d also noticed that his overall bone structure was finer than most of the Clover men. “You are special, Walker, and despite everything, you’ll be fine.”
He inclined his head, took another step back, lifted her hand to his lips. His bow was perfect. He actually kissed her fingers, and the ache wound tighter inside her. Sweet desire. Kind Walker.
“Thank you. With your help, I hope so.”
He turned on his heel and strode away. She touched the door latch and the door opened into an airy, high-ceilinged room of a pale blue facing south. The curtains were filmy white, nearly transparent. Beautiful. Welcoming.
Humming with pleasure, she walked into the sitting room. A corner was set up like an office with an elegant small cherrywood desk and built-in cubbyholes against the wall for recording spheres and viz spheres.
The door to the bedroom was cracked open, and she peeked in to see the walls were a darker hue and one wall a deep blue. That matched the silkeen nightgown laid across the thick and puffy comforter of the bedsponge.
Fragrance swirled through the suite. The usual fresh Clover note mixed with a heavier spice. She liked it. Putting Lucor’s carrier on a twoseat, she whirled with her arms out. The last few years had consisted of cramped attic rooms in inns in the small towns she’d been studying. When she’d returned to D’Grove Residence, her small, round tower room had been a brownish rose with sturdy dark brown plush chairs. Not to her taste.
This was. The furniture must come from Clover Fine Furniture, of course, and the decorating must have been done by Mitchella D’Blackthorn.
Perfect.
She pushed open the bedroom door, and low, soothing flute music lilted from a player. Trif Clover Winterberry’s music? As Sedwy undressed and drew on the nightgown, her eyelids lowered with sleep. She slipped under the covers with heaviness on her heart. She still must apologize to Trif. Walker was special. Sedwy smiled as tingles sparked along her nerves. He wouldn’t come to her tonight. But someday...
Walker thumped down the corridor, his footsteps louder than he wanted. The brief spurt of energy he’d gotten from lust wouldn’t last long. If he jnew his uncle Pink, and he did, the elder would be wanting a talk right now—a report of the day, and a hashing of all that might be important.
Walker was a morning person. Pink was not.
It took only minutes to run down the stairs, through the door to the old southern block, through that, and into the courtyard. Walker stopped a couple of meters inside. The fireworks were over and the younger children had been packed off to bed. No one but Clovers remained. The Blackthorn contingent and Vinni T’Vine had left. Walker’s cuz Trif Winterberry and her husband were in her house. Walker was sure that he’d be having individual conversations with all of them, but not now. Good. Breath filtered from his lungs, then he inhaled mindfully, keeping the breath steady.
He noted his Fam, Argut, and Vertic fox were sniffing the walls as if for mice.
“There’s my boy!” Uncle Pink shouted. Lifted a glass of ale. “To Walker!”
“To Walker!” everyone left in the courtyard shouted.
“Already we have alliances proposed! Four other contracts to read, three marriage nibbles for Walker, and a couple for the girls. Good work, boy.” Pink downed the last of his ale and thunked the thick glass on the table. Then he rubbed his hands.
Walker gestured to Barton in a way he’d seen Tab Holly, the owner of The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon, do to his heir, Tinne Holly.
Bart
on raised his brows, obviously also recognizing the motion, then came over and fell in to Walker’s left and slightly behind him.
“Time to talk, Uncle,” Walker said pleasantly, but caution flashed in Pink’s eyes.
“Sure, my boy.” He made to slap Walker on the back, and Walker stepped away, keeping his smile.
“You can’t have it both ways, Uncle. Either I’m the Head of this Household or you are.”
Pink’s smile turned to a baring of teeth.
Walker said, “Let’s go to my suite.” The western suite that he didn’t like. And which was probably decorated in the manner Uncle Pink considered appropriate for Walker. Which wouldn’t suit him.
He waited until Pink huffed and turned, marched to the door in the western wing and up the wide stairs.
On the third story, Pink regained his usual manner and nearly swaggered with pride to the door in the middle of the wing. He threw it open.
Walker saw a violent explosion of bright green. Barton made a muffled noise behind him, a laugh, Walker was sure. He ignored it and followed Pink through the door of the sitting room to the nearest table. It was a round one that would seat six and was covered in a patterned green and gold cloth with little golden bobble fringe along the bottom.
Barton coughed and Walker sent him a mild gaze. “Sit.”
“Yes, boss.”
Pink frowned. Slowly he pulled out a padded green chair that clashed with the table and sat.
Walker sat, too. He stared at Pink. “Now. Think on whether you want me to be the Head of the Household or if you want to keep that job.”
Pink gnawed at his lip.
Leaning back in his chair, a decent piece of furniture even if it did look lousy, Walker said, “First I’ll say that I have no interest in running Clover Fine Furniture or any other businesses. I won’t be handling or investing our funds.”
Pink’s breath whooshed out.
“I don’t know if you’ve looked at my testing results?” Walker asked.
“I got them.”
“T’Ash says that over the long term, I might rise as high as Captain of All Councils.”
Barton choked. Pink’s mouth fell open and he gasped like a fish out of water. Which he was. Which they all were.
Walker said, “So we need to decide if we want that great of status. With big status can come big problems.”
“Envy, feuds,” Barton said.
“That’s true,” Walker said. “In any event, I consider my job now to be networking with nobles. So we must discuss exactly what you want from individual nobles, the NobleCouncil, the FirstFamilies.”
“First you gotta take your place in the NobleCouncil,” Barton pointed out.
“Yes, and I have rules and documents to study and another test.” Walker saw the centimeters-high materials on the shelf of the green-painted cupboard and nodded to it.
Barton’s eyes widened. “Better you than me.”
“And Sedwy Grove is going to school me in noble manners and culture,” Walker said.
“Ahh.” Barton wiggled his brows.
“You don’t want the businesses?” Pink asked.
“No.”
Pink’s mouth pursed. “I’ve got a coupla more ideas for businesses.” He shifted as if the chair was too small for his weight, but his face knit.
“And we have some funds that we could invest, if we could get good advice or invest in projects with, say, T’Hawthorn.”
Barton gasped. “Nothing like shooting for the best investor on the planet.”
Pink nodded. “Yep.”
“So, boy, what do you want?” Pink stared at Walker.
“First, I want you to stop calling me boy. Then, I want you to let me choose my own rooms. That won’t be this suite.”
“This suite is the most secure,” Barton snapped.
“That may be true.” Walker gave him a cool smile. “But I don’t like the west side of the compound. I never have, and I don’t see why I should stay here. You’ll have to adjust.”
Both the men goggled at him.
Barton whistled. “Who’d you copy that manner from?”
Walker couldn’t afford to answer or crack a smile at his brother. “I understand security needs and I’m willing to have rooms modified for a suite on the top floor of the new south block of the compound.”
“The new south block doesn’t have an outside entrance,” Barton considered.
“We can put a door in the east end of the block,” Walker said. “And I want cuz Mitchella to consult with me on how to decorate my rooms.”
Pink winced. “Woman has expensive tastes.”
“I’ll be entertaining and meeting nobles in my suite,” Walker said. “Perhaps even FirstFamily nobles or Heads of Households. They’ll expect the best.”
Sucking on his teeth, Pink nodded. “There is that. All right. The third-floor south-facing rooms are yours. We’ll start work on any modifications tomorrow.”
“Cuz Antenn Moss-Blackthorn can design it,” Walker said.
Pink scowled. “He’s young.”
“He’s good.”
“All right, all right.” Pink gave in. “As for the Head of Household. We’ll think on it.”
“Think on this,” Barton said. “Nobles dealing with us will want to talk to the Head, no one else.” He glanced at Walker. “Sedwy Grove told me that, if she didn’t tell you, Pink.”
“Of all the formal offers of alliance, how many needed only your signature?” Walker asked.
Pink’s mouth tightened. “None. T’Ash’s needed only your signature.”
“Cave of the Dark Goddess,” Barton swore and sat straight. Slowly he turned his head toward Walker. “A formal alliance with T’Ash.”
“He offered alliance just after he translocated my testing document to the NobleCouncil clerk. Who was there in T’Ash Residence.” Walker smiled coolly at his brother. Now Barton knew how Walker felt about life spinning from his control. “It’s been an eventful day. And you’re the new Family Head of Security, formally now, not just informally. Responsible for all one hundred and ninety-nine of us.”
“Cave of the Dark Goddess,” Barton repeated. Walker knew he wanted to express a rawer curse but was constrained by Pink. Barton rubbed his forehead with finger and thumb. “This is terrible.”
“Wonderful!” Pink said.
Turning the look of a warrior general on Pink, Barton laid it out. “Allying with T’Ash means we’re also in an alliance with whoever he is in alliance with, most notably the Hollys, the Blackthorns, the Willows.”
With a nod and rubbing his hands, Pink said, “All the up-and-coming young generation of the FirstFamilies. Good connections.”
Barton leaned forward. “Yes, but if one of those Families gets in a feud-duel, like the Hollys and Hawthorns did a few years ago, guess who will provide numbers for the fights. We will. We are now their most prolific allies.” Barton swung to Walker. “Did you sign the alliance?”
“Yes.”
“Fligger. Where’s the papyrus?”
“My office,” Pink said. “On the corner of my desk.”
Walker knew the dimensions of that office and that desk, even in the light of a winter night approaching Yule. In his mind’s eye, he brought up the recollection of the sight of the papyrus, the aged color of it, T’Ash’s bold scrawl in brown ink. Walker remembered holding the document, the smoothness of the sheet, the weight. He found it in Pink’s office, and with a bang and a whoosh, it appeared, flying through the air.
Barton snagged the papyrus, bent a sardonic look on Walker. “Need a little work on translocation, bro.”
Walker smiled slowly. “Spent much of my time working closely with Sedwy on teleporting.”
“Nice.” Barton grinned, then skimmed the alliance. His next breath was a sigh of relief as he glanced back up at Walker. “T’Ash was looking out for you.”
“He does that.” Then Walker considered. “Or he will for a while until he thinks I’ve found my balance.
”
Barton grunted, tapped a finger on the papyrus. “The language is good for us. It doesn’t say, ‘the Clovers will provide one-fifth of their Family as fighters.’ That’s usual. In a Family of five that would mean one person. In a Family like ours, it means—”
“Forty,” Pink said, turning pale. “Lord and Lady Bless Us.” He breathed heavily through his nose.
Walker blinked at Barton. “I’m not sure how you know standard language, but we’ll check all the contracts and strike any such wording. Better have the alliance state something like ‘an equal amount of fighters to the largest contingent of one Family’s fighters.’”
Nodding, Barton said, “That should work. This alliance states we would ‘provide an equal amount of fighters as T’Ash.’”
“Hell,” Pink said, rubbing his forehead. “It’s going to take all of us to figure this stuff out.”
“Looks like,” Walker said.
Pink drummed his fingers on the table, staring out the window black with night and framed in quilted green with darker green clovers embroidered on the drapes. “That lady, Sedwy Grove, might have helped us with that?”
“Probably,” Walker said.
“You did well in inviting her to stay,” Pink said. He slid a glance to Walker. “You like her, right?”
“And that gets us to the next item on my agenda.” Walker smiled.
Pink narrowed his eyes, shot a thick finger toward Walker. “You’re a lot tougher and more savvy than I knew. Been hiding your light in a barrel.”
Walker and Barton exchanged glances. Another ancient Earthan saying that made little sense.
Barton snorted. “You think he hasn’t handled the Ash children, the Ashes, and the Ash Residence without picking up stuff?”
“And you think Barton hasn’t worked with the Hollys in a fighting salon that caters to the best of the best without also learning a few things?”
Walker asked.
Pink’s big shoulders slumped, and he gave a great sigh and sagged, trying to look like a pitiful oldster. It didn’t work.
Both Walker and Barton kept quiet until Pink gave in and spoke. “All right, what else do you want, bo—Walker?”
Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta Page 36
