No use for it; despite the minor spell, her cheeks felt the heat of blushing. Meeting his light-gray eyes, she said, “Yes, I took instruction under your uncle, Tab. I believe tonight is the night of Open Melee for the advanced fighters; I only reached intermediate.”
His expression went blank for an instant, and when he spoke again, he measured his words. “I think you should consider rejoining this establishment.”
So he had heard of the attack on her in the dawn. No doubt it had spread from the FirstFamilies down throughout all the layers of nobility by now. She could feel the gazes of everyone else in the room focused on her. People who only knew of her and had not seen even a shade of her for years.
She dipped another little curtsey, though she sensed the man would have preferred her to give a fighting bow. “Muin is here tonight. I am here to support my HeartMate,” she said pleasantly, reminding everyone of that particular status.
Yes, she was the younger daughter of D’Hazel, perhaps considered fragile or odd or . . . who-knows-what in each person’s mind . . .
Looking up at T’Holly, she gave him her best, most carefree smile. “You do not think I am fragile.”
He grunted and heavy-lidded eyes lowered. “My uncle Tab didn’t consider you fragile. He welcomed you here and taught you.”
She nodded, then swept a glance around at those who observed this interchange. “He invited me to attend training here at the age of six.” Truth, though she did not actually start classes until she reached eight.
“We don’t coddle any of our trainees. You aren’t fragile.” T’Holly’s gruff voice had her straightening her spine.
She looked around again, this time meeting those who returned her gaze. “I am not fragile. And I am here to stay in Druida City.” Turning back to the GreatLord, she stated, “I will renew my membership here in The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon.”
A gleam came to T’Holly’s eyes. With a snap of his fingers a large book-construct materialized between them. “General Intermediate training takes place every Twinmoonsday at EveningBell.” He scrutinized her. “But I think you should have personal one-on-one instruction with my cuz Nitida Holly.”
Avellana lifted her chin. “No.”
T’Holly appeared taken aback. Not many people said “no” to him.
She let him see her eyes slide left and right at the still-avid watchers. “I would prefer a small class of three or four.”
T’Holly nodded. “I understand.” The book flipped transparent pages, then stopped and solidified enough that the man could tap a finger on a page. “We’ll put you in a small class after the beginners test to advance to intermediate. New classes will begin two weeks from today at AfternoonBell.”
“That sounds acceptable.” She raised a hand, palm vertical. “Do not charge D’Hazel. I have an account with T’Reed’s bank. Forward any statement and notifications to my new home in Multiplicity the day after tomorrow—Avellana Hazel’s house. It is being raised tomorrow.”
Frowning, T’Holly said, “Multiplicity?”
“The new community going up to the south of Druida City.” She raised her voice so she would catch the ears of those who had stopped listening to her conversation with the GreatLord. Time to take advantage of all those interested in her and do a little promotion. “Roads and gliderways have already been made. The wonderful architect Antenn Blackthorn-Moss and his crew will be building my house and several others tomorrow, along with a few model homes.”
With a sardonic smile, T’Holly said, “Avellana Hazel’s house in Multiplicity.”
She returned a sweet curve of her lips to him. The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon would make a great deal of gilt from her membership, so the Hollys should be gracious enough to let her speak of her own business.
Then her brows dipped in concentration. “You should have known about Multiplicity; Antenn Blackthorn-Moss is your nephew, as is Vensis Betony-Blackthorn, who will also have a house raised in Multiplicity.”
T’Holly waved a hand. “Youngsters. Didn’t pay a lot of attention. Hard enough to keep my own grandchildren straight. Confusing.”
And she did not believe that for a moment.
“Seven minutes before Open Melee,” came an announcement.
The book-construct vanished into thin air and T’Holly stepped close and formally offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you, GreatMistrys Hazel.”
“Of course.” She let out a quiet breath. He had helped her a great deal by treating her like any other FirstFamily daughter. And though her status within these environs as an intermediate fighter was low, outside these walls she should be recognized as a woman born into a FirstFamily, one who would be the wife of a FirstFamily GreatLord.
Whatever gossip said of her, whatever people thought of her, she did belong to the highest level of nobility on Celta. And she had equally powerful Flair, even though she would never use her primary gift.
She walked with T’Holly to the double swinging doors inset with small glass windows. To their left, a young man, also a Holly with pale hair and gray eyes, stepped up to the appointment lectern.
The doors opened and she caught a glimpse of other Hollys—Tinne Holly, who owned The Green Knight, and his older brother Holm, the heir to the man beside her.
With a quick glance, she determined that her Muin and T’Ash were the only other FirstFamily title holders here.
T’Holly walked her over to the fat rolled mats that served as seats for observers and bowed himself away, joining the other fighters at the line. A groan went up. Avellana had heard that now and then he could beat his sons and be the fighter of Celta once more. The results of his broken Vow of Honor had lingered longer than anyone would have anticipated.
She wiggled her butt until she felt solid and comfortable, and met Muin’s gaze, smiling. He stood at the line on the far side of the room.
• • •
Irritation sizzled through Vinni.
As soon as some of his friends and allies saw Avellana walk in on T’Holly’s arm, they moved from their previous positions around the room to crowd next to him to be in her line of sight.
Oh, yeah, he knew what would happen now. They’d try to take him down before his HeartMate, make him look worse than he was. A sharp elbow got him in the ribs as Barton Clover pushed next to him and gave him a wide and toothy smile. Vinni gritted his teeth.
Yeah, there were guys he knew he couldn’t beat, including Barton—the three Holly men, the older GreatLord T’Ash . . . at least T’Marigold and T’Blackthorn were out of town. He wouldn’t make the top five, but he’d be in the top nine.
The bell dinged and the melee began.
Fresh and humming with energy, Vinni spurted away from those who wanted to take him down immediately, headed for targets of his own that he knew he could beat.
Tried to move away from thought to that place where only physical action mattered and his body ruled. Engaged in combat.
Yeah, winning, winning. Defeated both of his own guards, and, no, they didn’t let him win.
This one, tough fight, too long grappling, but won!
Behind you! Avellana alerted.
He dropped to the floor and, when a torso lunged over him, pulled the guy down and pinned him.
And after that, his and Avellana’s vision seemed to snap together, an event that didn’t often happen. He’d rarely heard of it occurring between HeartMates. He saw through his own eyes but also had some sort of split vision, and felt, equally oddly, that his balance was better. Because he was anchored with his HeartMate.
Spin kick left! she yelled mentally. He did, and Barton Clover hit the floor. Zowie. Score!
Barton Clover out, Vinni eyed those standing. With a gulp of air, he went after T’Ash. If Barton could beat the man now and again, Vinni could, too, with Avellana’s help.
But at the las
t minute, too many came at him at once and he took the fall—but ranked in the top five! Eye stinging from a last-minute glancing blow, many of his bruises aching, he accepted the hand of Holm Holly to rise and settled into his balance, gauging his pain levels and letting the tight bond between Avellana and him snap under the burden of thought. And, yeah, that caused him a few dizzy instants.
Slowly, Vinni stepped toward Avellana, his body feeling slightly different. When he blinked, he saw Barton Clover sitting next to her, being charming—just to rile Vinni, he was sure, because every time Vinni saw Barton with his wife, they looked deeply in love. Also sitting on the mats were a couple of guards in the light blue of Ivy, Vinni’s former tutor, Arcto Vine, who must be waiting for Fera Vine, and WhitePoplar guards who watched him with disapproving stares.
But he concentrated on the glint in Avellana’s eyes. That gleam of attraction with an edgy lust that he saw too rarely.
He should invite her to bouts here more often.
Someone snorted beside him, and he became aware that Holm Holly walked with him. The man swung a towel around his neck, then touched his swollen bottom lip and winced as the Healing spell reduced it to normal. With a narrowed gaze and balanced to attack should Vinni do something foolish, Holm studied Vinni. “You’ve never reached the level you did tonight in Open Melee.”
Vinni smiled blandly. Holm’s chin jutted as if he listened to the onlookers’ conversations, including Avellana’s, behind him. Then he shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like the bond between you two, so close she can help with instantaneous fighting.” He punched Vinni on the shoulder. “Good job.” Then he turned and bowed to Avellana. “Good job, GreatMistrys Hazel.”
Her expression held only innocence.
Holm laughed and slung his arm around his brother’s and T’Ash’s shoulders and they walked off the floor, T’Ash grumbling a bit.
Vinni offered both his hands to his love, and she put hers in them, and the connection that sizzled between them made him glad he wore a groin guard so his instant hardening couldn’t be noticed by everyone. Through their connection, he realized she’d forgotten everyone in the room but him, and he grinned. He held her hands, matching tender gazes with her until he sensed Barton had moved away and he and she now stood within a circle of space.
Finally, he said, “I’m glad you changed your mind and came.”
Her hands trembled in his and she drew a breath before withdrawing from him and smoothing her face into a polite expression. Tucking her hands into her opposite sleeves, she replied, “I am always pleased to be with you, Muin.”
“Let me grab a waterfall and we’ll walk a while.” He frowned. “Did you take a glider here?”
“No. I teleported behind Blackthorn-Moss Architecture and walked.”
Vinni grimaced. She obviously knew the pad behind that business, but not here. No, he wouldn’t comment. With a nod, he said, “I’d like to walk with you.” He paused. “In public.”
Color came to her face. “Yes. I would like that, too.”
“Wait right here.” He drew his brows down. “Don’t flirt with other men.”
She chuckled and he felt pleased he’d drawn that from her. Except for his physical soreness, he felt good all around and headed to the men’s locker room with a spring in his step.
• • •
Avellana watched Muin stride across the room, and realized the chamber had mostly emptied out while she had been staring at her HeartMate.
Muin never moved so well in his life as when he fought—well, except in bed, during those real-life times when they’d made love.
Because when he fought and made love, he relied on his muscles and got out of his head. Her Muin was usually thinking. But throughout the melee he had moved with easy masculine grace—deadly grace if he didn’t pull his punches like everyone else.
She understood that they had linked in an unusual manner and with unusual closeness, and a shiver went through her. Though, it seemed, Holm Holly knew of such a link that encompassed the augmentation of physical efforts. So, in that, she—they—weren’t unique. She had learned to dread the term unique. Many times it meant too different to be trusted, or, simply, freak.
Before she could drop into brooding, Muin exited the short hallway from the locker rooms and walked across the mostly empty main sparring area to her.
His hair showed dampness and she understood he hadn’t done a complete drying spell.
He offered his arm to her. “It’s a warm evening; let’s stroll along the street outside.”
One of the main business avenues of Druida City, so they would be public. “I would love to.” She took a breath in of sweat and hormones—male and female—and wrinkled her nose.
Muin laughed. “We’re leaving now.”
As they walked through the salon, she felt like a couple, a power couple, and the few people in their path stepped aside. Soon they had left the building and Muin turned right, toward downtown and opposite the direction from which she had come. The Druida-scented humid summer night air lay softly against her skin like a benediction, home. She tilted her head back to see the darkening sky, the bright galaxies of stars blinking into view.
“I love it here.”
“But you’re leaving Druida City for Multiplicity.”
“You should be happy I will not reside in the big city, but a small area where everyone will know everyone else.”
“Plenty of isolation there, too, for villains to attack.”
“Like this morning. I do not want to argue with you, Muin.”
He slipped his arm from the elbow link and put it around her shoulders for a brief squeeze. “I know. My fault, I brought it up, when I should just be glad to see and walk with you.”
“Perhaps the adrenaline and other natural chemicals in your blood are not fully absorbed.”
Chuckling, he took her fingers and twined them in his, and the standard rush of emotion flooded her. Affection, passion, love.
“About Multiplicity . . .” he began again, and she sensed he had taken her hand to check the truthfulness of her answer, rather amusing since she thought he could read her expressions like no other and would not need the physical connection.
“Yes?” She had no secrets regarding Multiplicity to hide from him.
Muin clasped her hand, enveloping her fingers. Without looking at her, he said, “Do you need gilt?” He cleared his throat. “In the time before we’re wed?”
She chuckled and squeezed his fingers. “No, Muin.”
“For, ah, furnishings for your new home?”
“I am taking items from the D’Hazel Residence storage rooms. Like most FirstFamilies we keep objects instead of throwing them out when our tastes change. I am very pleased with my selections.”
He made a grumbling noise.
“Muin?” she asked.
“G’Aunt Bifrona added more stuff to the bottom chamber of my tower.”
“Oh.”
“I wanted that tower for you and me, only.”
“No one can teleport into the floors above, or the secondary towers, or the roof, or take the staircases or omnivator. We can let your Family have that room.”
“It’s the principle of the thing. They have the whole rest of the castle. My personal tower should be private.”
“It does not matter.”
“And we’ve strayed from my original topic.”
She shook her head. “I do not need gilt.”
“I got the impression that you made a significant investment in Multiplicity.”
“I did, most of my personal inheritance. That which is not allocated for my children.” She grinned up at him. “And I will make a lot of gilt. We, Antenn and I, will make a lot of gilt from Multiplicity.” She shrugged. “I live frugally and have few expenses.” Waving to a shop window exhibiting the latest fashions,
she said, “I have all the clothes I need and do not need more. And, soon, when I am not donating my work to the Cathedral and I am doing more commercial holo paintings, I will also make much gilt from that.”
“And you can get an annual NobleGilt from the council for contributing to society.”
She nodded. “I am not well known, so I will be doing quite a lot of free holo paintings to accept that gilt. But I am at the beginning of my career, so it can only grow.”
Pausing and not looking at him, she added, quietly, “I believe Antenn may be a little strained financially. He would not accept gilt from his parents, the Blackthorns, nor from the Clovers on his mother’s side—”
Muin grunted, frowning. “I don’t recall him asking his peers about this. Those of us who trained with him in his class at The Green Knight. We’re still pretty close.”
“Networking in action,” Avellana murmured.
“That’s right.”
With a shrug, Avellana said, “I do not think he would speak with T’Hawthorn about this.”
“No. Laev, T’Hawthorn, is the best financier ever, but he likes to meddle, and I don’t see him keeping his mouth shut or his fingers to himself if he had a piece of Multiplicity.”
Avellana actually giggled. “All the FirstFamilies Lords and Ladies meddle. Every single one of them.”
Muin stiffened beside her. “I do not.”
“You did nothing but meddle in my life.” She laughed aloud, glad she could do that with this topic.
“That’s different. You’re my HeartMate. I don’t meddle in my friends’ lives.”
“I am your only . . . meddlee?” She hooted. “You have been showing up to meddle in people’s lives since you were nine years old.”
He opened his mouth, must have realized he could not finesse the well-known truth, and shut it, paused a moment, then turned down the street that led to the theater district. “I’ll talk to Antenn about a partnership, strictly hands-off.”
“In his next project. Neither Antenn nor I will let you in on Multiplicity.”
Heart Sight Page 17
