Heart Thief

by Robin D. Owens

  “Are you sure?”

  “He, too, deserves a chance to fulfil his potential as a man.” Her brows dipped. He caught her close and brought her against him, and the sensation of his hard male body, a body that satisfied her momentarily but left her aching for more, wiped every thought from her mind.

  A s the week wore on, things proceeded with near normality, but Ailim felt she was living in an altered reality and definitely on borrowed time. It was a toss-up what would expose them first—the Hollys’ return, Zanth’s nosing around, Samba’s prowling, or the rumors that streaks of light and booming came from Nuada’s Sword.

  Every night she’d go to the Ship with Primrose. She and Ruis would study old records, have Ship integrate with other noble Residences, and ask each to review and submit any archived memories they had about Bucus Elder’s accession to the T’Elder title. There was precious little. Still, she worked hard to compile an air-tight case against Bucus.

  Now and again, Ailim would arrive at the Ship late and alone, having attended a noble gathering. Subtly she tried to widen the breach of doubt that many felt for T’Elder. She wove a complex web of alliances, expected of any head of a Family. But this web was to trap T’Elder, and on behalf of Ruis more than the D’SilverFirs. She introduced Caltha, and helped her and her spouse make the transition to being integral to noble society.

  At the Ship most of the time Ruis and Ailim worked in grim silence, but the loving through the nights seared Ailim’s soul. Ruis would be sensitive and tender, or so wild, needy and demanding that orgasms shuddered through her again and again until she broke free of any constraint and became a being of pure sensation.

  Ailim knew Ruis tried to bind her to him physically and emotionally, but the true binding was to her heart, giving her love as no one else in her life had.

  At the end of the work week they’d compiled enough information to tentatively prove Ruis had been confirmed in the title and estate. The Elder Family had confirmed him as the next GreatLord and sworn loyalty to him. Bucus convinced the other Family members to all break their oaths when Ruis’s Nullness grew evident. Bucus, by breaking his oath and covering it up, violated the most fundamental law of Celta.

  “Proof!” Ruis shouted in exultation. He shoved back from the office desk and stretched. “Proof!” His hands fisted and his face grew hawkish. “Oh, yes, Bucus, we’ve got you now!”

  Deep foreboding infused Ailim. She looked at the stack of papyrus. It would take a month or two to build a solidly undeniable case against the Captain of the Council. A month they didn’t have.

  The Holly brothers had survived the boghole and the mellyck, to the great relief of Ruis and Ailim.

  “Ruis—”

  He picked her up and spun her around, whooping. Samba trotted over from watching History of Cats. “Prrrrrrrrroooooph!” she purred, stropping Ruis’s legs. I am Ship’s Cat. I am GreatLord Fam, too, now. She lifted a regal paw. I always knew.

  Ruis flung back his head and laughed. Then slid Ailim down his body, his eyes darkening. “I am legally T’Elder. Your match in status and wealth.” He snorted. “Knowing Bucus, T’Elder has more wealth than D’SilverFir.”

  “That wouldn’t be hard,” Ailim said, suppressing a shiver.

  “I can clear myself and court you.”

  “Let’s do this right.” Fear chilled her bones. “I’d rather do this right and final and have you, than sloppily and quickly and lose you. Can’t you consider leaving Druida for a little while?”

  His expression hardened. “Run? As I’ve run all my life? No.” He cut the air with his hand. “No. I will get my uncle and I’ll get him soon!”

  He gestured again, then lifted his hands to study them, as if seeing the scars. In his eyes old pain echoed and Ailim flinched. She couldn’t deny he’d been hurt badly, badly enough to crave vengeance, but she’d hoped he’d risen above that. She’d sensed he carried a destructive anger, but she had been sure that he was overcoming it. Now she didn’t know.

  “You’ve told me time and again that you weren’t interested in vengeance against your uncle,” she whispered.

  He sent her a fulminating stare. His entire face tightened—the noble bone structure evident. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach.

  “Because of several things. First, I’ve always been on the run, with hardly any time to stop, think, or plan.” He raised his index finger. “Next, I had no power. All of my life the balance of power was in his hands—my life was in his hands. He wanted me dead—still wants me dead, but he got me banished.”

  Ailim’s lips felt stiff. “You allowed yourself to be caught and banished because of your own actions.”

  Fury twisted his face, then he smoothed it out, jerked a nod. “Right, as always, SupremeJudge. My anger at my circumstances and the injustice of my life scoured me like acid. It blinded me. Do you know, Ailim, my lover, that you were the first person to ever treat me with kindness?”

  “I know—”

  “Shade learns from me. Sometimes I think he trusts me, sometimes not. Just when I think his mind and body are Healing, he gets a mad glint in his eyes. Shade doesn’t welcome my touch, and when he stays for my company we walk so my Null field doesn’t bother him as much. So it’s true that I let myself be angry, that I acted on that anger.” He shook his head. “The little records we have about Nulls is that they went mad or committed suicide. My anger was preferable.” His chest expanded in a deep breath and his lips moved as he held the inhalation, counting, then exhaled to another count.

  Ailim knew all about anger-management techniques—ones she used, and ones she saw people use in her JudgmentGrove every day. She wanted to go to him, but didn’t know if he’d welcome her touch.

  “Bucus had control of the Elder Family. He had the title and the gilt, and later even became Captain of the NobleCouncil. Captain.” Ruis barked a laugh. “I had nothing and no one. That isn’t true anymore. I have Samba, my Fam, I have the Ship. And I have a beautiful, Flaired noblewoman who has been willing to fight for me since the moment we met.” His eyes looked bright as he reached for her.

  Samba sniffed and stalked away.

  Ailim grabbed him close. Then he was kissing her with fierce hunger—a need she sensed was as deep or deeper than his anger. Their joining was fast and turbulent and shatteringly satisfying.

  They panted together. “Forbidden and dangerous loving is so incredible,” Ailim said, “but I wish it was open and safe to make love to you anywhere, anytime.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “There’s a lot to worry about. We can’t escape discovery for long.”

  “You haven’t heard the latest update. The Holly brothers have reached Lake Meraj,” Ruis said.

  They rolled apart.

  “Thank the Lady and Lord!” Ailim said.

  Ruis stood and pulled up his trous. His expression still brooded. “They’ll be back in Druida in an eightday.” He wrenched at the waist tab until it was tight. When he looked at her, his determination was set like armourcrete. “I won’t run. And Bucus will pay. Much as I don’t want to continue this discussion, much as I would like to ignore it or let it rest, or ride it out, I think you need to hear what I have to say. You asked why I didn’t move against my uncle before, I gave you some good reasons.” He shook his head and smiled and for an instant humor moved in his eyes. “We were speaking about power. Lord and Lady knows that what we generate between us is nothing but pure power. You have power over me. You always have.”

  Ailim rose stiffly. “I would never betray you.”

  “I know that, and it comes of your own sense of honor as a lady as much as it does your indignation at injustice. But I like hearing the words.” He swept a hand around him. “No one can deny I have power now.”

  All the pleasure from their lovemaking drained from Ailim. She shook out her skirts. “That’s correct. Do you plan on kidnaping Bucus and firing him off in an escape pod to the 271 Range?”

  Ruis’s lips curled. “And le
t it hit the crags of ZWZ? A very tempting idea. But there isn’t another lifepod ready. Ship lured the Hollys to the only viable escapepod. I’ll try hard to wait for you to work within the law.”

  He paced the den, “But I’m impatient. I didn’t know before that Bucus had actually stolen my birthright. I thought it had been a Family decision, done legally and lawfully.” The flames of injustice burned in him. “Bucus is evil. He has no honor. He’ll do anything to gain glory or gilt or power. It isn’t right that he’s allowed to hold a title or public office. That he’s allowed to pursue his plans at the cost of my lands and estate and yours. It isn’t right that he goes free.”

  “And you stay trapped,” Ailim ended quietly, setting her hands in their opposite sleeves cupping her elbows.

  Ruis’s gaze pierced her. “My life has been miserable. Much of that I’ve brought on myself, but most . . .” His tone turned low and deadly, matching the lithe movement of his body. “Most of my life was miserable because of one man. One man who used the system to ensure my life was as wretched as he could possibly make it. Bucus must pay. Soon. I’ll give you until the end of next week to bring him to justice. Then I’ll act.”

  “I don’t like ultimatums. And I don’t like how this predicament is changing you. You’re bitter.”

  He laughed. “I’ve always been bitter. When I’m here, or with you, or even with Samba, I can put it aside.”

  She tilted her head. “I recall you told me the Ship crafted a psychological anger management program.”

  “That was before I knew.”

  The next dawn Ruis jogged through the dead grass of the paths and parks on the way to JudgmentGrove, not heeding Samba’s puffing whines. After experimentation, Ruis had found a large oak tree branch where he could lay, seeing and hearing Ailim well, even if her bailiff invoked the weathershield. Ruis only had to climb and settle himself in the oak just outside the sacred circle before anyone else arrived at JudgmentGrove.

  Ailim hadn’t come to him the night before. In the evening she’d left a message that the Hollys had called for allies to attend a ritual to seek their lost sons. Later, Ship had relayed that T’Holly had called in his nephew, Straif Blackthorn—GrandLord T’Blackthorn of the FirstFamilies, the noted tracker, to find Holm and Tinne.

  That Straif Blackthorn would soon be trailing his cuzes disturbed Ruis. Blackthorn had great Flair, but how much would his psi talent tell him? How much of Ruis’s Nullness would affect the Hollys’s route?

  Ailim hadn’t come to him. No loving arms had cradled him last night. No comforting words had been whispered in his ears. No sensual woman had wrapped around him in ecstasy. They’d said goodbye the previous morning with bitterness between them, and Ruis hated that.

  He pulled his cowl low and kept his head ducked to stop it from whisking away in the cold autumn wind. His hands were protected by the light-bending gloves and his boots were grass-stained and mud-splattered for camouflage. The fierce autumnal winds had started, and every step was a struggle to keep the light-bending cloak hiding him. Lately he hadn’t been out in the day. Danger seemed to swarm around him.

  He needed to see Ailim. To talk with her. He laughed inwardly at his lie. He needed to look into her clear eyes. He needed her to touch him. He was in deep trouble. Heart trouble that could crush him.

  At JudgmentGrove he hefted himself up into the oak, careful not to tear his cloak. With grumbling and the jingling of her collar, Samba followed him up, climbing a bit further so she was higher than he—a sop to her pride. She’d catnap until something snared her curiosity, then she’d jump from tree to tree until she was several meters away and finally descend to the Grove to poke her nose into whatever interested her. He scanned the Grove once more before letting himself fall into pleasant fantasies of being with Ailim.

  When the breeze wafted her voice to his ears, he jerked awake, sending his gaze questing for her. Occasionally she’d walk the JudgmentGrove before her official day began speaking with visitors, nobles and commoners alike, as she did now.

  Ruis glanced at his watch. A half-septhour before JudgmentGrove began. He looked up to find her talking to Bucus. NO! His knuckles tightened whitely.

  Bucus and Ailim were intent on their conversation. Bucus held his head at a mocking angle, with raised eyebrows, while Ailim leaned toward him. She pressed papyrus sheets into his hands, pivoted on her heel, and walked to her tower.

  Bucus’s sneer changed into a scowl as he read the papyrus and crumpled them, shoving the wad in his pocket. He examined the Grove with narrowed eyes, then stalked away.

  What had Ailim given him? Ruis cursed himself again for their argument, torn between wanting vengeance and wanting Ailim. Until now, Ailim had been circumspect in her investigations, but he must have pushed her to move more quickly and with less caution. What had been on the document? Instinctively Ruis sensed that it concerned Bucus and the SilverFir Family and wouldn’t draw attention to Ruis. He thumped a fist on the wide branch beside him.

  Tension bathed him and he scrutinized everyone. The sacred circle was drawn and closed, the weathershield raised, the opening blessing invoked. A stocky figure in drab brown caught Ruis’s attention. The man looked familiar. As he wandered the edge of JudgmentGrove, Ruis strained to place him.

  Ruis kept watch all morning, his gaze returning time and again to the man in brown. It grated Ruis that his honed survival skills had faded.

  The last case before break was called. “Return to the People of Celta and the Maidens of Saille against Antenn Moss, juvenile,” Yeldoc announced.

  Ruis jolted. Antenn Moss, Shade’s brother. Ailim’s concentration was focused on the people before her. Her body language showed how important this case was to her.

  Ailim looked at the boy and sighed. “Antenn Moss,” she said, disappointed to see him again. She’d failed the boy. She hoped Ruis was succeeding with Shade.

  Antenn flushed. He’d wrapped most of his cloak around his young, scruffy tomcat.

  The Prosecutor coughed. “The apprenticeship of Antenn to the Turmerics did not succeed. There was a—personality clash regarding the cat—Pinky.” The Prosecutor shrugged.

  Ailim raised her eyebrows. Pinky had a ratty ear and scratches on his nose, no doubt taking after Zanth. She scrutinized Antenn. His mouth set stubbornly. It wouldn’t do to separate the cat from the boy.

  “I have further results of Antenn’s Testing by T’Ash. Witnessed and confirmed by Mitchella Clover,” Danith D’Ash said, gesturing to a stunning and voluptuous red-headed woman who’d accompanied D’Ash to the center clearing. D’Ash ran up the steps to the stage and laid papyrus onto the desk with a flourish, then joined the other woman.

  Ailim flipped through the documents and her spirits lifted. When she looked up, she smiled, knowing her relief was nothing compared to Antenn’s giddiness. The boy relaxed his tight grip on the cat.

  “An impressive Testing in architecture, Antenn. In sight of this new information, the Grove believes the previous placement with the Turmerics to be faulty. T’Ash states that he has forwarded a request for apprenticeship to GrandLord Cang Zhu.”

  The crowd chattered. D’Ash beamed, proof to all that a person could rise from commoner to GrandHouse through sheer Flair.

  Ailim squared the papyrus and inserted them in a flexifile. “The Grove will augment T’Ash’s request for an apprenticeship to Cang Zhu. I do not anticipate any problems with your new apprenticeship.” Best to give a warning, though. She narrowed her eyes. “I do not wish to see you in JudgmentGrove again.”

  Again Antenn flushed and shook his head.

  Ailim folded her hands. “The Turmerics had trouble with Pinky.” The cat hissed at her. “The Cang Zhus might also have issues with the cat. Therefore, I do not think it wise for you to live with them during your training.” She scanned JudgmentGrove, stilled for a moment when she sensed a blankness in an oak tree outside the circle. Ruis. Another lost soul that might be saved. With a jerk, she brought her mind back to work.
“The Grove notes that the boy still needs a proper home.”

  People shifted on their blankets and shuffled their feet around her. No one met her eyes.

  “T’Ash . . .” D’Ash started hesitantly.

  “Fligger,” Antenn swore. He and the Prosecutor shared an uneasy glance.

  “I know T’Ash is an expert on Downwind boys,” Ailim said smoothly. “But in this instance, I believe I would prefer another home, perhaps one with another boy his own age, or an extended family—”

  “Mitchella!” D’Ash cried.

  The voluptuous redhead beside D’Ash started.

  “You can take him.” D’Ash then addressed Ailim. “The Clovers are one of the few large families of Celta. There are several boys and girls in a wide range of ages. Mitchella always wanted to be a mother—”

  “Fligger,” Antenn said.

  “Not this way, Danith,” the woman named Mitchella said. She met Ailim’s eyes, then lowered her gaze.

  Ailim studied the boy and the woman. SilverFir had no matchmaking genes, but Ailim had been a judge long enough to weigh character. Though the solution sounded odd, some meshing of the auras of the lonely young boy and the woman—who Ailim realized was sterile, an awful fate—seemed right. Ailim saw clearly they could help each other and live together as family.

  “If Mitchella Clover would accept the boy, Antenn Moss, into her home, the Grove would grant the placement,” Ailim said, avoiding GentleLady Clover’s gaze.

  Antenn put Pinky down and they walked to Mitchella Clover. Antenn’s brown hair stuck out in clumps all over his head. “You don’t want me, either. Know guy—” He stopped, struggling to correct his Downwind shortspeech. “I can work hard, as apprentice and more. The man who runs one of T’Ash’s Downwind Centers will trade bed for work.” He darted a glance full of trepidation at Ailim. He didn’t like that she could read him.