Heart Fate (13 page)

He grunted. “Thanks, I need all I can get.”

“I'll leave you to speak with Straif.” She waved, and the wood laid in the stone fireplace lit into flames. The door shut behind her.

“Nearly insulted my wife, there,” Straif said.

Tinne just grunted again. “The stew's good.”

“Yes, we have a good cook.”

Wiping his mouth with the softleaf, Tinne glanced at Straif, who'd taken a seat on the couch, had his body angled toward him, arm stretched out on the back of the sofa. Casual, easy. A carefree, well-rested, powerfully Flaired man.

Steady dark blue eyes met his. “So the ritual went we—, is over.”

“Yes. It's all over. Genista left Druida.” He automatically tested his bond with her. Nothing. He chewed another piece of bread, which had seemed soft a minute before but was now dry. “I think.”

Straif tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. “Yes, she's gone.”

Tinne stared at his cuz.

With a half shrug, Straif said, “Her bond to the Family is gone, but I know her signature, and I'd know if she were still in the city.” He continued gently, “You know your Family will always take care of her.”

Tinne's shoulders hunched. “It's in the marriage contract.”

“And you know better than that. T'Furze has stated he won't enforce the marriage contract payments. He's deeply humiliated.”

“Must be if he's forgoing gilt, especially now that he'll have to pay out more in marriage settlements because of the scandal.” Tinne shifted. “But it's Genista's gilt and T'Furze would punish her with it. I want . . . she should be comfortable.”

“We'll see to it,” Straif said. “I thought you'd prefer to have this conversation with me instead of your father.”

Tinne hissed out a breath. “Yes. Your mission for the Council go well?”

Straif hesitated a second, “Yes. I delivered her NobleGilt to the mystic-who-lives-in-the-hills. As I do every year.”

There was still half a bowl of stew, but Tinne was full. He hadn't had much of an appetite for a while.

“So when did you return?”

“Yesterday.”

Tinne was familiar enough with T'Blackthorn Residence to send the tray to the kitchen. He looked at his cuz, but didn't copy his open body language.

“Time enough to track and find Lahsin D'Yew. Why haven't you?”

Straif's face went blank. “Any consultation I might have done with T'Yew would have been confidential.”

“Lahsin Burdock D'Yew is my HeartMate.”

Straif's head jerked back as if from a blow. “Fliggering Cave of the Dark Goddess.”

“That's right. The Yews must want her back. Her Flair is strong. That's why he bought her from the Burdocks. That and because he wanted a son, more children.”

“You seem to understand the situation more than is generally known.” Straif scowled.

“She's my HeartMate, of course I knew the circumstances of her marriage.” Tinne didn't look at his cuz. “When I wed, I put her out of my mind.”

Straif stood and strode to a wall, said a password, and pressed a panel, and a bar revolved from the other side of the wall into the room. He poured stiff whiskeys for himself and Tinne, came back, and shoved the glass at Tinne.

Tinne knew he couldn't afford to drink it all. Not in his condition.

“I don't like being hired by a FirstFamily GrandLord who rapes and abuses a wife that is young enough to be his Child'sChild, then expects me to find and drag the girl back when she escapes.”

Nine

Tinne flinched, put a hand over his eyes. The food in his belly
curdled. He'd abandoned his HeartMate to a monster. He rubbed his temples. He'd been twenty and the marriage had been several days old by the time he'd heard of it. He hadn't known what to do, had been coping with his own Family crises.

He hunched over, keeping his food down with an effort. “She was fourteen. I convinced myself he wouldn't hurt her. That he might cherish her.” His laugh was ugly, and he regretted he'd said anything. “Later I thought he might build a good marriage with her, as I did with Genista.” He straightened, gulped the whiskey down, turned to his cuz, unable to stop the flow of words. “I abandoned my HeartMate to a monster.”

“No!” Straif's tone was sharp. “You did what you thought was right.” He shook his head. “You have always done that, you're that kind of man, so don't second-guess yourself now.” He did a quick pace of the room. “I saw her today. Went back and told T'Yew I refused his commission. Said she'd obviously known I'd be called in, had left me a Flair message outside of Southgate. Told him that she declared herself an adult, had repudiated their marriage.”

Blow after blow. Tinne leaned back against the couch, let the whisky dull his feelings, blur his vision. “Repudiated their marriage.”

“She did so, to me. As she can when she is seventeen. I spoke to SupremeJudge Ailim Elder this afternoon. Confidentially. That's law.”

“There are no divorces in the FirstFamilies,” Tinne said. His tongue felt heavy now. “We just suffer through our marriages.”

“Seems you've learned that differently. You look like you've been mangled by a grychomp.”

Tinne inhaled, let his breath out slowly, steadied his pulse. Like he'd been doing interminably the last few days.

He heard Straif gulp his drink, then his cuz said, “Since you're going after her, you have to know.”

“I won't say ‘thank you' for that.”

“You shouldn't have to deal with this mess with Lahsin, now. Just an unlucky life, I guess. How did you screw up in your last life to deserve this?” Straif paced some more. “I swore a truth statement before the judge as to what I learned had happened to Lahsin.” There was the sound of spit hitting the hearth of the fireplace, hissing of the fire. “Fliggering Burdocks to let that go on. Didn't defend a daughter of the house.”

“T'Yew's a rich and powerful FirstFamily GrandLord.”

“Honor should not be bought.”

“High-minded,” Tinne muttered. “You saw her? She's in Druida? Well?”

Straif sat again, this time stiffly. “She's well enough. But I don't know that it's a good idea for you go after her. She can't be wanting a man around her right now. Certainly didn't want
me
near her.”

“You're a FirstFamily GrandLord.” Tinne found a smile. His energy was returning, with the food, with the whiskey, with the determination to
fix
something rather than break something. “I'm not.”

Straif snorted. “Right. You're close enough.”

“I'm not as old as you, certainly not as old as T'Yew. She's in Druida? Or did she really leave by Southgate?”

“I'm not telling you.”

Then something Straif said finally penetrated. Tinne tipped his glass but the liquor was all gone. “You said she declared herself an adult.” His gut was clenching again.

“Yes.”

“That means only one thing. She's experiencing twinges of the freeing of her Flair, of her Second Passage.”

But Straif said nothing.

“Alone, seventeen, a sheltered girl. Wintertime. With an oncoming Second Passage that could debilitate her!”

When Straif turned his head, he was smiling. He stood and offered his hand, and when Tinne took it, Straif hauled him up and led him to the teleportation pad. “The Blackthorns always track their mates.”

“I'm not a bloody Blackthorn, I'm a Holly!”

“But you have a link to her.” He clapped Tinne on the shoulder. “Port to Squawvine Square, you should pick up her scent there. Good luck.”

“Straif—”

“I can't in good conscience tell you where she is. You'll find her, and the hunt will be good for you.”

“Spare me.”

His cuz sighed. “Sorry, you're spared nothing right now.”

 
 
Tinne teleported to Squawvine Square. It was the last real square
just north of CityCenter and the beginning of a maze of little alleys. His ancestors had built the narrow lanes between the founders' broad, straight streets a couple of generations after colonization. Celta was harsh, and the population could not fill the already designed and mostly built grand city.

The cold air was sharp and filled his lungs and cleared his head. Maybe Straif was right. Maybe having a definite, short-term goal would be good for him. Maybe being outside in the crisp air would be good for him.

Or Straif could be crazy.

In any event, Tinne didn't think any rest was possible for him tonight. Too many new wounds as well as the new shock of the abuse of his HeartMate, his guilt at not attempting to save the girl-child she'd been, bled in him.

No one should have been in the square, but he saw shadows lurking around. More likely thieves and criminals than any law-abiding folk.

He shifted his shoulders, the long coat he wore easing around him, the cold acting on spells in the fabric that sent more warmth to him. He began to overheat, so he stood and centered himself again, regulated his breathing again, and prayed to the Lady and Lord this would be the last time he consciously did both to relieve stress.

Surely he'd find her. He couldn't fail. Once again the image of her, young, frightened, helpless, and bruised, facing her Second Passage alone, drifted through his mind. As it did so, he unearthed the deeply hidden thread between them. Examined it. A pure and shining, throbbing silver. Something he hadn't ruined.

The mind Healer D'Sea wouldn't like that idea. She and T'Heather had emphasized that the marriage was over, was twisting and causing him and Genista pain. Injury had happened
to
them as a result of living in a place cursed with his parents' broken Vows of Honor. He still felt like a failure. If he'd acted differently or sooner, he would have been able to save his marriage.

Instead of standing here on a dark winter's night, watching Cymru moon rise.

Destiny?

He wasn't hot anymore. He shivered.

He was in no condition to interact with a HeartMate, especially as a man who would be lover and husband. He was tired of being a lover and husband.

She wouldn't want that, and neither did he, now. His hurts at the hands of a beautiful woman were so new and bloody. But she was young and naive and alone in Druida in the winter, expecting Second Passage. He could offer her friendship.

Though destiny might be at work here, his free will was equally strong.
He would not hurt Lahsin in any way.
Slowly he turned a circle, saw Eire moon, the same phase, waning to a sliver, on the opposite side of the star-sparkling sky with bright veils of galaxies.

He held the connection between himself and Lahsin gently, gently in his mind. Closed his eyes to the night. Thought of the holo on the newssheet of a girl on the brink of womanhood. Since he'd deliberately avoided her, he had no newer image to focus on. He closed his mind to everything else and sent his emotions, his
heart
to encompass the bond, to
feel
it.

The connection was warm and changing from silver to a sheening metallic rainbow. Of hope. Of the future. Something he dreaded but she anticipated. Warmth was heating inside him. Comfort.

What surprised him was that he felt no fear from her. He did sense a great anger—understandably so, and if she didn't work
that
out, her Passage could go badly. Fear, yes, inside him for her. Her last Passage would have been at seven years old. She wouldn't remember it much, wouldn't know that the Second Passage would be exponentially worse.

So he thought of the link, even whispered mentally to it.
Take me to her. To my Heart
—
to Lahsin.

Trusting his Holly instinct, he followed the slight tug in the center of his chest.

He wound through passages so narrow they admitted only one person. Alleys twisting through buildings that blocked everything but a slice of night sky. He walked a long time, sensing he was going ever northward. But not west to the boundary of Druida City, where the six-kilometer-long starship
Nuada's Sword
sat on the cliffs above the Great Platte Ocean. Not due north to Northgate, the city exit to the Great Labyrinth and the fishing communities beyond it.

Northeast. He couldn't picture northeast Druida.

His feet tired, and he was glad he'd worn sensible boots to the testing, to the divorce ritual. Had that all happened on this day? The fullness of events of the day was stretching time, blurring the clarity of his memories. A blessing. His steps slowed as he came to a dead end at a tall wall of about six meters. Not the city wall raised by the founding colonists in large gray stone blocks but a brick wall, ruddy and stained, with a tangle of plant life climbing on it. Huge bare tree branches rose behind the wall, so that he had to tilt his head back. The wall was certainly not four centuries and nearly a decade old. But close . . . there was a sheen to the brick that spoke of ancient, strong Flair. Power that had been used so often and so long that it seeped into the walls and regenerated itself.

Squinting, he scrutinized the area. He didn't know this place. When he tried to think hard about it, his thoughts themselves became . . . slippery. He blinked and forced himself through the brush to touch the wall. It felt warm. Who lived behind the wall? All of the great Nobles he knew had estates in Noble Country, in the west of Druida. No one lived in the northeast.

Again he deliberately tested his link with Lahsin. Was it growing stronger with use? Probably, and he didn't know how he felt about that.

She was definitely behind the wall. Anticipation bloomed inside him. Success.