There was a short yowl of warning, then a hint of rushed air, and he pivoted, got hit by a solid blow to the ribs from a foot, grabbed the ankle, and continued to turn. Man was a terrible fighter.
Feam fell under him. Laev heard the crack of a breaking limb and Feam shouted in pain. Laev smiled. “Got you. You’ll never hurt my HeartMate again, you fligger.”
Kelp’s eyes were wild with pain and fury. Blood showed black on his mouth. He’d bitten his lip through and through. Fury was rising in Laev and he hung on to his temper by threads. This had been too easy. He longed to pound Feam.
Licking a trace of the blood away, Feam grinned up at Laev. “But I will,” he rasped. “I will win and I will hurt you and her both. Make you suffer as you made my beautiful Nivea suffer. You have no HeartGift to give that girl.” He laughed.
Yes, this man had been Nivea’s lover. “Where’s my HeartGift?” Laev growled, grabbing hold of Feam’s hair, ready to lift his head and slam it into the ground.
“Guardsman Winterberry here,” said a cool voice. “I had a trace on you, T’Hawthorn, and was notified the moment you cried feud on the Kelps.”
Feam smiled into Laev’s eyes. “I don’t know. Nivea never gave it to me.”
He lied. Laev knew it, but also knew that the man would never tell. That would be Feam’s—and Nivea’s—last revenge.
Four days later, Camellia sat quietly on a chair in Laev’s sacred grove at T’Hawthorn Residence. She lifted her face to the spring sun, welcoming the warmth that would sink into her chilled bones.
She should have been rested and serene. Instead she was on tenterhooks.
A Hawthorn had brought Senchal to a cottage on the estate where he could practice his art without care for gilt for the rest of his life. He’d fallen in clover.
So had she.
The day after her father died, she’d given the Licorices Captain Hoku’s documents. His maps of the landing of Lugh’s Spear and the blueprints of the ship had been sped to the expeditions. Hoku was a hero again. She and Senchal had been confirmed as the Captain’s ultimate heirs. Gilt would flow their way, but that was in the future. Now she understood that she had needed to bring solid proof of worth to her marriage.
That didn’t change her current circumstances. The way the Family and Residence were treating her made it evident that they had great expectations of her if . . . when she became D’Hawthorn. Enough expectations that would interfere with running her tearooms and business.
Since the horrible night her father and uncle had died, Laev had handled the payoff of her patrons, the reconstruction of her tearoom. She should have fought him but was still recovering from shock.
Psychic shock that her father and uncle had died, violently, both hating her, had pummeled her more than expected. The complete strangeness of living in T’Hawthorn Residence, along with the knowledge that she’d never return to the house that had been her home and sanctuary. If she closed her eyes, she could still see her uncle intermingled with the wardrobe.
Not to mention that her body was still recovering from blood loss. All the Healers from T’Heather down had recommended that transfusions be minimized, so she hadn’t had any. Apparently it would take a month to get back to normal.
Laev was treating her like the finest crystal. When she was asked her opinion, he didn’t argue, even though she could see from a line or two in his forehead that he didn’t agree. They’d had a very polite discussion where he offered to buy into her business and she’d refused. She hadn’t been able to read him or sense through their bond whether he’d been disappointed.
All was smooth and surface emotions between them. They’d had no sex—made no love.
She couldn’t live like this.
He had given her more than she had him, and it was stupid to think that way, but she couldn’t help it. She must stop thinking that way.
And she would, when she accomplished one more thing.
Primross had said Laev couldn’t find his HeartGift. She could.
Subliminally, she’d felt the emanations from the object from the moment Laev had begun to create it. Like everything else with regard to him, she’d denied, denied, denied—locked it behind that door in her being.
Now it was time to be truly free, to acknowledge her love and move on with her life. So she relaxed deeply, leaning back in the chair and letting the bond to the gift unfurl as a small gilt thread. Her link with Laev was large and strong and golden, more a bridge-cable than a rope.
She waited, tested, considered. Better not to teleport.
A lot of people were being more careful about teleporting.
So she made sure she knew the direction, held it in her mind as she walked back through the beautiful grounds to the awesome Residence. As she passed by the ResidenceDen, she heard Laev lecturing Jasmine Ash, and the girl’s light laughter, and smiled. Laev had more friends, more people who respected him than he knew.
If—when—she stayed, she’d live in fabulous rooms surrounded by luxury. He was sharing that.
She was sharing nothing but her problems. Oh, she knew she loved him, that she gave him support and love through their bond, so she was contributing equally in that way to their relationship. But she needed to show her love.
She changed clothes from a loose houserobe and into one of her favorite tunic and trous sets of a celadon green that she wore so much it was shabby around the edges despite physical and spell mending.
Do you go out, Camellia? the Residence asked, a hint of worry in its tone.
“That’s right.”
“Alone? Let me call a guard to accompany—”
“Not this time, Residence, I’m not going anywhere I would need a guard. The feud with the Kelps is over.” The women had paid Camellia’s Healing bills and Camellia’s debt had been cancelled. The Kelps’ humiliation had been deep and public.
They were relieved that Laev was satisfied with the criminal mark magically tattooed on Feam, the tracker spell laid on him, and his banishment from Druida and Gael City. Camellia had the idea that Feam would have to work hard in the future. No more support from his Family.
“It’s dangerous outside my walls,” Residence stated. Camellia stopped and considered that. The Residence beings would be the ultimate agoraphobics, worried about everything outside. How would that affect their personalities? Would they be obsessed about keeping their Family indoors? Right now the Residence was mildly concerned about Camellia’s safety. What would happen four hundred years in the future? Had anyone thought of this before? Were people studying it? She should speak to Tiana about it. Residence personality disorders. Huh.
Mica popped through the cat door set in the thick wooden one to Camellia’s room. Are we going somewhere?
The Residence must have called her.
A surprise, Camellia whispered through the bond that only she and Mica shared.
Goodie! Then the cat looked at the scry panel. Residence, I will go with My FamWoman. We will be fine.
They left Camellia’s room and walked through the castle.
“Please take one of the gliders,” the Residence said.
If she’d been in her own home, she could have walked out and caught a public carrier, but they ran much less here in Noble Country. “All right, one of the new smaller ones.” Without Laev’s arms or colors.
“It will be in the front. I will notify—”
“I’m on an errand for a surprise gift for Laev,” Camellia said.
“A gift for Laev?” The Residence sounded thrilled. They were in the oldest part of the Residence with small chandeliers. Crystal tinkled.
Camellia was sure that the Residence didn’t know she hadn’t made a HeartGift for Laev, so that’s what it was thinking of.
I am here to accompany you. Brazos swaggered into the hall.
Camellia hadn’t really expected that she and Mica could leave without him. She fumbled for the mental connection that she shared with only him. We are going to get a surprise for Laev.
>
Brazos ran around the room in excitement, long hair flowing. Camellia wondered if he was naturally that fast or was using Flair.
She timed her steps to the door to miss him, then opened it. Mica paraded out, tail high and tip gently waving, dignified. Brazos shot out the huge double front doors, yowled at the glider under the portico, and zoomed into the vehicle through the crack as its door rose.
By the time Camellia reached the glider, both cats were sitting in the driver’s seat. Even though she didn’t actually know how to steer or maneuver the vehicle, Camellia thought she should be there. So she stood with the door open until they noticed.
Let’s GO! Brazos insisted, turning his head and nearly glowing yellow green eyes at her.
Ready! Mica wiggled her butt a little as if settling.
“I don’t think Fams are allowed in the driver’s seat,” Camellia said.
Two astonished cat faces, whiskers twitching, eyes round, stared at her.
What! Brazos said.
No! Mica said.
“We can, of course, go back inside and ask the ResidenceLibrary. It would know,” Camellia said.
Mica hissed. I want to go NOW. She hopped into the passenger seat and lifted her nose to see out the front window, as if she was ready to be chauffeured.
With cat grumbles, Brazos moved to sit beside Mica. Camellia shut the door, circled the glider, opened her door, and slid onto the furrabeast-leather seat. She closed the door. “Webbing on all,” she said, and they were encased in physical and spellshield safety webs. She didn’t touch the steering bar to pull it out of the console.
“Nav on,” she said, blessing the few times she’d ridden to rituals with the Licorices. She was sure she knew enough to get where she was going. She wanted no other witnesses than the FamCats. A square three-dimensional projection appeared. Camellia licked her lips. “Follow voice instruction.” She’d just lean back in the comfortable seat and trace the gilt thread to Laev’s HeartGift. “Down the gliderway to the gates of T’Hawthorn estate and turn north.”
The glider eased forward with little motion.
How fast does it go? asked Brazos.
“I don’t know, and we aren’t going to find out. You’ll have to ride with Laev for that,” Camellia said, murmured to herself, “Not through CityCenter, good.” She looked at the expectant cats. “This is a treasure hunt.”
I can find anything, Brazos boasted.
I can find anything, Mica said at the same time.
“I think I’ll be able to find this by myself, but thank you for your help.” A few minutes later they were out of the estate and cruising north. “This may take a little while,” Camellia warned. The Fams didn’t answer; they were busy looking out the window.
Goes faster than feet, Brazos said.
And see more than teleporting, can only teleport to where we’ve been. Mica rotated her ears. Seeing lots of new places!
Camellia figured they were good to ride without complaining for a few more minutes at least.
The city itself was beautiful. Flowers were in full bloom, and there were plenty of parks and groves and Temple grounds that showed furled leaves ready to open. Spring was like a goddess in a green petticoat trailing through Druida.
Some minutes later, the glider wove down one last narrow alley and stopped. The stands descended and they rocked to a halt. Camellia stared at the gray stone building.
What is this? asked Mica.
“I think it’s a multiple-living-unit building. Apartments.”
Brazos grunted. Like MidClass Lodge?
“That’s the most well-known place of this type, yes,” Camellia said. If she hadn’t wanted her own grassyard and garden, she’d have lived in MidClass Lodge.
Not as nice as MidClass Lodge, Mica said, and Camellia realized the cats had explored more of the city than she’d thought.
Door open! commanded Brazos and his door lifted. Camellia pushed hers up, too, stepped out. Silence lived in the alley. She said a couplet that encased the glider in a spellshield, then walked up to the building, up the stairs, to see a stone lintel with a Hawthorn branch above it. A sudden premonition shivered through her. She would bet that Laev owned this building.
And she would bet that Nivea had known that.
During his short trial, Feam Kelp had made wild accusations against Laev . . . that he had neglected his wife, had let her die alone. The Residence had sent holospheres of the last illness of Nivea Sunflower Hawthorn that contradicted this, but Feam hadn’t believed them. He accepted nothing but his own views as the truth. The fact that Feam had been Nivea’s lover had not been openly stated, but it was obvious.
Now Camellia was going to find the secret meeting place between Feam and Nivea, a lover’s bower, and it filled her with dread.
She didn’t want to see a place where infidelity had flourished. Where two people amused themselves at Laev’s, and the Hawthorns’, expense.
But she wanted Laev’s HeartGift and there was only one way to get it.
Thirty-three
The cats had already mewed the standard spellshield down, the door open, and were standing in the small atrium sniffing lustily.
Mice! said Brazos, and he took off.
Mica glanced at Camellia, down the hallway where Brazos had disappeared. Camellia understood, if given a choice of hunting mice or a treasure, the cats would choose mice. “Go.”
Mica projected, Wait for Me! to Brazos.
The gilded cord led up the stairs. At the top there were only two doors, so the apartments were large. Her senses tugged her to the left. The hallway was tinted a dark gold with brown trim, Nivea’s colors.
When she reached the sturdy oak door, she laid her fingertips on the wood, knew Laev’s HeartGift was beyond. No fancy spells shielded the door. She opened it to a sunny yellow room furnished with luxurious pieces that she would never have been able to afford. Neither would have Feam. Furrabeast leather of the finest grain. Carpets straight from Chinju, and not one, but stacked atop each other for the softest of cushions for the feet. The art on the walls had Camellia’s eyebrows raising . . . holographic sex-party scenes.
She slipped inside, pulled the door shut after her. How much would seeing this hurt Laev? She didn’t know. Her first impulse was to take care of clearing the whole place out without telling him. Would that be sparing him or not?
The bedroom was tinted peach that would have complemented Nivea. The bed was elegant cherry and draped with gauze. Very pretty, but Camellia’s nostrils pinched at the thought of what must have occurred there. The breaking of marriage vows.
Yes, she was judgmental, so what? She firmly believed that if vows were made, they should not be broken, otherwise why make them in the first place?
She could call the Clovers and have them dismantle the apartment. Marching to the right corner, she threw open the door and breath stopped in her throat. This room was a shrine to Nivea.
In each corner were holos projection of Nivea in a specific costume . . . summer, autumn, winter, spring, smiling and waving.
Camellia shuddered. Each wall held a holo painting of the dead woman, and as Camellia narrowed her eyes, she saw the sheen of tiny glass bubbles in the wall that meant at least one mural was programmed into it. “Show mural.”
A naked Nivea plunged up and down on an equally bare Feam. “Stop! Erase!” The action halted and sickness swirled up Camellia’s throat. “Erase!” Nothing happened. “E-rase!” There came a hum and the mural faded. Camellia found herself panting and leaning against the doorjamb. No one should have seen that. She did a little cleansing spell for the room, a calming spell for herself.
She felt a throbbing from Laev’s HeartGift. It was near.
Jewelry was set out on an altar . . . cuff bracelets rather like marriage bands, long dangling earrings of golden topaz or yellow diamonds, an amber drop necklace. Again, because of the quality and value, Camellia was pretty sure that Laev had given the gems to Nivea. What should Camellia do with the
m?
Her mouth dried.
There was a tall, narrow, triangular cupboard in the corner for ritual tools and holiday altar dressings. The piece was dusty, the wood dry and slightly warped. Near the top, she sensed Laev’s HeartGift.
Everything else in the room and all other thoughts faded. The HeartGift itself was shielded. If not, the pure sensuality imbued in the piece when it was made would draw Camellia—as Laev’s HeartMate—into mind sex with him.
She tried not to think about when it was made . . . the night after they’d met in JudgementGrove when he was seventeen.
Laev’s Passage had sparked that day, Camellia’s triumph at winning the case had spiraled wide to snare him, to ignite HeartMate vibrations between them . . . which he’d attributed to coming from Nivea.
Camellia brushed the air before her face as if waving away bitemites. No more thinking of that. No more regrets. The past was now and ever would be in the past. She had a strong hold on the future if she had the courage to grab it. And, finally, she’d summoned that courage.
She focused on the door to the cabinet, placed her fingers against it, and felt shielding Flair. Frowned. Was the door trapped to explode or destroy if she tampered with it? She should call in an expert. Or contact Laev through their link.
But that wasn’t the way she wanted to do this. She wanted to bring his HeartGift to him as . . . proof that she loved him? As price of forgiveness? Neither of which he demanded. Both of which were self-serving. She put a hand between her breasts. Self-serving or not, this action was something she needed to do to be right with herself, and that was enough damn analysis.
She closed her eyes and felt the HeartGift. It warmed her with sexy desire for Laev, but she ignored that. She felt the mass of it, the general shape, the subtle throb of its shielding. A headache began to gnaw, but she pressed on. Yes, she knew the shape, knew the shield, knew the mass. It was tilted, jammed on the smallest top shelf near the ceiling. She . . . could . . . shift . . . it.
Heart Search Page 34
