Heart Duel (42 page)

He looked at his father near the altar, cradling his HeartMate in his arms. Holm's ire rose with the jangling of his nerves. His father could claim and hold his HeartMate, but dared to forbid Holm.

“You will deny me the company of one of the FirstLevel Healers who just spent her time and Flair in Healing my Mamá?” He formed each word precisely. Everything in him rose in a great surge of denial at T'Holly's command. He met the older man's eyes. His father had been wrong before. He was wrong now.

T'Ash swung from a conversation and started toward Holm. Other Nobles stopped talking and stared at the Holly men. The kittens hopped from the altar and ran to them.

“Holm, please, let me go,” whispered Lark, pulling on her hands. He kept them firmly in his own. Only the feel of her soft skin kept him sane.

T'Holly's gaze fired to molten pewter. He sent another jolt to Holm. Holm cut the connection between them. His Mamá made a protesting sound. Holm didn't care.

“No son of mine will consort with the FirstDaughter of the Hawthorns,” T'Holly said. “Come attend your Mamá and me.”

“No,” Holm said. He looked down at Lark. “I need you. Now. Forever.”

Her eyes widened and she looked scandalized at his increasing torrent of desire to claim her.

“Tinne, Tab,” T'Holly said. Holm didn't know what mental order T'Holly communicated, but Tinne and Tab exchanged glances and slowly began to walk toward him.

“Cool, my friend,” muttered T'Ash.

Holm swept an arm around Lark's waist.

“Let's take this outside,” T'Ash said, grasping Lark's arm.

“I don't—” Lark started.

“Unhand my cuz,” said Cratag Hawthorn.

Two frowning GreatNobles swept to them. “I will not have conflict in the Temple under my auspices,” T'Heather said.

“Nor will I during my month,” said D'Hazel. They shared a glance. D'Hazel, the more diplomatic, strode to the altar and Holm's parents.

“Unhand my cuz.” Cratag rested a hand on his hip, near the empty sheath of his dagger.

“Go to hell, Maytree.” Holm showed all his teeth.

T'Ash hissed out a breath. “Come
on
.” He circled his blacksmith's muscular arm around Holm's shoulder and pulled. The kittens whined.

Tinne and Tab arrived.

“T'Holly orders you to his side,” Tab said neutrally. “Don't disobey him. He's in a volatile mood.”

Not as volatile as Holm's.

T'Holly
stood
on the altar, holding his HeartMate close to his chest. “Give her up, Holm.”

It was the last straw. “No,” he called to his father. “She's my HeartMate.”

“No!” yelled T'Holly.

“No!” cried Lark, wrenching herself from him, flinging T'Ash's arm away, too. She hopped back and color drained from her face. “No,” she whispered. “This can't be. I don't have a HeartMate. Neither do you.”

“We do now.” He grinned, beginning to enjoy himself. At least the rasping anxiety of his nerves and the strain of keeping his secret was being released in the verbal battle.

“Uh-oh,” said Laev. He picked up Phyll.

T'Heather stopped and stared, then shook his head.

Deep color rushed back into Lark's face. Her eyes narrowed. “I don't believe this. This can't be true.”

“It's always been true and right between us,” Holm retorted, stepping to her.

“No!” She whirled and faced her MotherSire, T'Heather. “I have been awarded the position as Head of the Gael City HealingHall.” Lark shot Holm a confused, betrayed glance. He hurt for her. “I will be leaving within the week.”

He absorbed the blow, the hurt, told himself that she was upset, that she would come around if he wooed her more, and right, and openly, this time.

“No son of mine has a Hawthorn for a HeartMate,” T'Holly boomed from the altar. D'Holly tugged at the collar of his shirt, but he paid her no mind.

Holm pivoted to meet his father's eyes. “Yes, I do. I love her and I will have her. Mayblossom Larkspur Hawthorn Collinson. My
HeartMate.
”

“I disown you. I disown you. I disown you. You are no longer a Holly son. You have no more rights to my name or my house, my Family or my Residence.” T'Holly issued the ritual words, and Holm staggered, more from the abrupt snapping of all the mental and emotional bonds with his Family than with the blows of the words. His ears rang. He was no longer Holm Holly.

“I am
not
your HeartMate!” Lark cried. She took his hand, opened the bond between them to its fullest extent, a large golden rope, and sent energy to him. It sizzled through his blood, pooled in his groin, burned upward to his throat.

She Healed the lovebite she'd given him, dropped his hand, and strode away.

Rejection upon rejection piled upon him due to his failure after failure. Only willpower kept him from falling to his knees. Meserv mewed and Holm picked him up and cradled him.

T'Heather and D'Hazel and another woman came over, Ailim Elder, SupremeJudge of Druida. She looked at him and sighed, shaking her head. “T'Ash, bring Holm to the back anteroom. He has violated one of the most sacred laws of our society.”

“Glad to get out of here,” T'Ash said.

Holm was weak and blind. Emotional agony roared through him. He had failed completely and utterly. He was nothing.

T'Ash kept him on his feet and stumbling in the right direction. Holm had lost everything. He hoped the small connection with Lark was still there, but he couldn't feel it. Did his breaking of the HeartMate laws sever that tie, too?

His throat closed.

Ailim went inside a small room, and the door closed after her. T'Ash stopped outside the room. His concerned face, eyebrows drawn, moved into Holm's vision, scowling. He shook Holm.

“Get a grip, man. This is no time to fall to pieces. Where's your charm and suavity?”

Those traits had belonged to HollyHeir. He didn't know who he was.

Holm smiled and T'Ash jerked back. “A corpse can smile better than that.”

Another shake. “Pull yourself together.”

Holm licked dry lips. “My Family ties . . .”

“You think I don't know what you're feeling? I lost
all
my Family when I was six. I remember.” The big man shuddered. Then he curved his hands around Holm's face, locked gazes with him, and sent him a bolt of sheer strength and energy that lifted the hair on Holm's nape, zapped to his toes, tweaked his balls, then found his gut and settled there.

Meserv hissed. Holm rocked back and shook his head. Whatever else, he had one good friend in the world. He reached for his mantra, wavered. The mantra had been found in T'Holly HouseHeart, which he'd never see again. The mantra, too, belonged to Holm, HollyHeir, not to whoever he was now.

“Another jolt?” asked T'Ash.

“No.” Holm straightened. His and T'Ash's Flair had never melded well. Holm rolled his shoulders, stretched muscles.

T'Ash sighed. “Good.” He glanced at the closed door and winced. “I'll wait here for you.” Then he shook his head and clapped his hand on Holm's shoulder. Holm nearly staggered. “When you lose your composure, you
really
lose it. I knew that impulsive Holly nature would do you in.”

Shaking his head and testing himself for hurt—dreadful but manageable—Holm recalled how he used to stand, gesture, walk. The manner was no longer instinctive, but like an uncomfortable costume donned for a play. He didn't know how to move in it. Jerkily he opened the door and stepped through.

Ailim Elder sat in a winged chair by the window. T'Ash had spoken of composure, but he'd only seen this lady lose her serenity once, and he'd had a part in that. He winced.

She smiled faintly and he recalled that she was a telempath. “Please sit, Holm.”

His knees gave out as he reached the chair. Meserv settled beside him, and Holm petted the kitten.

Now her expression was troubled. “I'm sorry for the turmoil you are going through, Holm.”

He shrugged, put Meserv on his lap, and toyed with his fur.

“I can tell by your thoughts, and those of your friends and Family, that the announcement of your HeartMate is true.”

“D'Willow confirmed I had a HeartMate. She didn't know who, but now she will.” He smiled thinly. “Not that it will matter.”

“She wasn't at the ceremony, but her Heir was. They don't get along, but she will hear the news from someone. All of Druida will know what happened soon.”

Her words about D'Willow and her heir only reminded him of the emptiness inside him. Tinne was HollyHeir now.

Ailim continued. “D'Hazel and T'Heather got to me fast. T'Heather is particularly concerned about your—lapse. They would like this handled discreetly. It would be better for you to admit to your guilt now and privately than to schedule this for a hearing and a trial. As a matter of fact, I'm not quite sure what council would judge you.”

He just stared at her. The intense pain ebbed and flowed through him at intervals, leaving him breathless and acting in spurts. He hoped numbness would come soon. It had when his Mamá had been wounded—but then there had always been hope. Now there was none. His father—T'Holly—had repeated the Disowning Words three times, as was proper. Holm had failed quite spectacularly. Razor-sharp claws of guilt bit in him at that, but not at his bald announcement.

“I acted hastily, and I am sorry for that, but I will not deny Lark is my HeartMate or that I want and need her.”

Ailim's face softened. “Personally, it is awkward for me to chide you, since I, too, broke Celtan laws.” She smiled lopsidedly. “But as a judge and the representative of the GreatLords in charge of this ritual, I must remind you that you have admitted breaking one of the most sacred laws of Celta. You have informed a woman she is your HeartMate.”

Holm's stomach pitched. One more failure. He'd never broken any law that had brought him before a judge, let alone the SupremeJudge of Druida.

“Before a large assembly for a sacred Healing for your
Mother,
you announced that Mayblossom Collinson was your HeartMate. You surprised and humiliated her. You've placed her in an intolerable position amongst her equals, her co-workers, and her maternal Family.”

He choked. He hadn't thought of that. Hadn't thought at all of
her,
just himself. He'd acted arrogantly again. He truly was despicable.

And he found he hated this wing chair as much as the one in front of T'Holly's desk. He preferred T'Holly's stern visage and D'Holly's sighs to these quiet words from this young, slender woman with the steady blue-gray eyes, who had told him how he'd wounded his HeartMate.

She continued to speak words that tore at him. “With that pronouncement, you escalated the strife between her and her Father.” Ailim tilted her head. “And you have hurt yourself so badly it's as if you are bleeding inside. I know that. So perhaps it is good that the law will put restraints on you.”

Ailim looked at him with sorrow and lifted a hand. “You will always be chaperoned while in the presence of your HeartMate. If no chaperone is available, you must remain at least three meters away from her. The restrictions are for five years or until Mayblossom Collinson states in front of three FirstFamilies heads that she accepts HeartMate status and repeats it five times.”

The words rolled over him, sucking him into a swift undertow he thought would finish him. The roaring of his heart filled his ears. His vision faded again until he felt tossed about on a dark sea of fate.

Ailim's cool hand pressed his head forward between his knees. Meserv squeaked. “Shhh, Holm. It's not that bad. You live. She lives. You are HeartMates. This will work out.”

He sincerely doubted that. He wanted to vomit. Blood rushed to his head and his clammy face heated with embarrassment. Meserv set sharp pointed little claws into Holm's thigh.

Pounding came on the door. “Holm? Holm? Are you all right? I'm coming in.” T'Ash banged the door open.

Judge Elder sent a tingle of a calming spell to him that refreshed him enough to straighten and lean back into the chair. She went back to her own seat.

T'Ash strode in. “I'm here. Danith said everybody's been talking about the HeartMate laws out there”—he gestured to the Temple—“and she sent this guy to be a chaperone.”

A large, long-haired cat swaggered in.

Holm choked again, surprised he could feel a jet of amusement.

The cat stopped in front of him and lifted his nose in disdain. At knee-level, golden eyes stared up haughtily at him.

Meserv gave a tiny squeak and tried to curl himself completely near the back of the chair.

The cat before them had an entirely black face, and his fur shaded only to a lighter dark gray down the rest of his form. His flat face did nothing to minimize the effect of his eyes.

The cat sat.
I am Black Pierre,
he said.
D'Ash loves Me.

No news there; D'Ash loved every animal she saw.

Black Pierre narrowed his eyes and whipped his tail at T'Ash. The GreatLord rumbled back.

Another cat with attitude. There must have been furious cat fights in T'Ash Residence. When Holm narrowed his eyes, he saw two streaks of silver on a tufted midnight ear—healing scars.

Black Pierre looked Holm up and down.
I am a Superior Cat, strong and smart. Many people can hear my thoughts. I speak well. I am long-haired and beautiful.