Heart Quest (12 page)

And he'd always fulfill a promise.

Since she couldn't touch him, she ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it. There was sweat at the roots and a breeze had picked up that would dry it. His glance followed her hand, lingered on her hair.

“Trif, you
can't
be distracted.”

What could she say to that? She firmed her lips. “I under stand.”

He exhaled slowly, his wide chest barely moving under his brown shirt. Her glance wanted to drift downward. She yanked it back to his impassive face. Clearing her throat, she said, “At least my Flair wasn't fluctuating. It was solid.” Along with a certain man. “I think I've found the channel to keep it in during 'porting.”

“That's progress.”

She looked around the Great Labyrinth. She hadn't been here since her best friend's wedding. “So why are we here?”

“The Great Labyrinth is an excellent tool.”

Her turn to frown. “For grounding yourself. I don't have that problem. I ground fine.”

He waved to the winding path. “
Look
at it. Think about it.”

Her frown deepened and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She let her eyes unfocus, but not enough to trigger her Flair and see the past. The Great Labyrinth was in the middle of a crater and the path out rose steadily, circling around until it reached the rim, which was the horizon here at the middle. It was a beautiful place, both naturally and because NobleHouses had raised small shrines showcasing their Families to decorate it. The Vines had erected a grape arbor, stone benches, and bottles of rare vintages. The Birches had planted a lovely, swaying grove of their name trees. In the grove was a small altar and on it were small curls of birch bark for prayers. A few feet away was a pond where the birch spells could float—only three did.

Since her family, the Clovers, weren't Noble, they had contributed nothing. If they had…she could imagine a green of nothing but clover rising to the rim, a beautiful green bowl. She smiled.

“Trif?”

“Why don't you just tell me what you want me to figure out?”

“Because then you won't come to the conclusions on your own.”

“I've never been one to think that what you work for is more valued than what you get free,” she said, knowing he believed that implicitly.

“But my telling you something instead of you deducing it is a lesson easier for you to forget.”

Now he was wrong there. Looking back, she'd always paid attention to whatever he'd said. She probably could repeat word for word every conversation they'd had. Too few conversations, too few meetings for neighbors living within a few doors of each other, she now realized. She eyed him more closely. “Have you been avoiding me?”

For the blink of an eye he looked startled, and she knew she was right. “Why?” she asked.

“We don't have many things in common.”

She didn't like that response. She'd have to think about it, and his physical reaction to her, but later, when she was alone. She studied the labyrinth again, nibbling on her bottom lip. “When I was in grove study, I think I remember that some of the simpler labyrinths look like an apple.”

Ilex nodded, and his face subtly relaxed.

“But this one is more convoluted.” She cudgeled her memory. “Like a—a brain.”

“Rather like. More circular. But all labyrinths have been made to affect the brain. Or Flair.”

“Or Flair,” she repeated on a breath, looking at the long path to the top again. “You think that if I walk this, I might be able to channel my 'porting Flair better if I concentrate on it?”

“You might even be able to master your Flair, steady it into mental pathways as you tread the physical path.”

“Hmmm. Good idea.” A spurt of happiness at his caring fluttered her blood. She smiled at him and offered her hand. “I've heard that no matter what your mastery of Flair, how much Flair you have, walking the labyrinth is good for you.”

He didn't take her hand, and rapidly moved from the center clearing under the tall ash tree to the beginning of the path out. “It's not as if you can do anything else,” he said. “The spells on this place only let you teleport in, never out. Come along. Let's see what results it might have on you. When we reach the rim, you can teleport us to the pad in MidClass Lodge.”

A thought struck her. What was Ilex doing in MidClass Lodge? She narrowed her eyes as he took a few steps along the short straightaway leading out of the labyrinth. “Why do you live in the Lodge and not your Family Residence?”

His shoulders tensed. But when he answered, his voice was casual. “I don't get along with D'Winterberry.”

She crossed to the beginning of the path with long strides, and decided to press the matter. “What's her relation to you?”

“My mother.” He didn't even glance back at her. “No more talking now. Think about your Flair, how to regulate it, channel it, carving a deep path for it to flow through your mind.”

Trif really didn't like that particular image, but she began a breathing cycle and as she walked the curving path she let her mind drift, her Flair rise. She fell into a rhythm. And around the sixth curve, she lost it. Her aura spiked, she saw it blaze in front of her.

When it receded, she saw the past. The morning sky was the same. Everything else was different. Even the scent—a harsh acridity came to her nostrils and her nose twitched the odor away. Instead of a well-worn trail winding gently up a slope, bedecked with little Family shrines, she saw the rough soil of a newly made crater. Layers of sediment showed raw in the sunlight. The rim wasn't smooth and worked, but ragged with sharp edges.

Trif couldn't see the path, couldn't feel it under her feet. She lost her way. There was nothing but bare ground. She turned in place and noticed a huge piece of seared metal in the center of the space. Movement caught her eye. Two figures walked to the rim and stared down. A man and a woman. Waves of strong emotion smacked her, whirled her under. She crumpled with a cry.

F
eeling came back to her first—she was being held in a
comforting embrace, her bottom on a warm lap, her legs stretched out, her back cradled by a strong arm.

A damp, herb scented, smooth cloth—silkeen?—caressed her face.

“Come on, Trif. Open your eyes. It's safe.” Ilex's voice was quiet, soothing. As steady as the man himself.

Trif made a little sound and tried to burrow deeper. His supporting arm tightened around her, then released. “Come on, Trif, we still need to get out of the labyrinth.” This time his voice was cooler, with a note of command. Oh, yes, he was a minor Noble. And a guardsman.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and met his. They immediately went from soft to sharp and darkened into blue-tinged steel. He slid her from his lap onto a cool stone bench.

She looked around. There was a table inlaid with gleaming strips of wood and atop it some cut cheese and fancy crackers. “What's this?”

“The Caraways' contribution. It was the closest. What happened?”

Lifting one shoulder, Trif reached for a slice of cheese, put it on the cracker—it fit perfectly, Ilex being efficient as always—and popped it in her mouth. She handed another treat to Ilex.

After she swallowed and drank from a cylinder of springwater, she said, “My Flair spiraled out.” She grimaced. “I couldn't control it, and I had a vision.” At least it hadn't been violent.

He stilled beside her and again his eyes met hers. “Like we had last night?”

She grimaced. “Yes.”

“A very interesting experience.”

Heat crept up her neck, fired her cheeks. “I should have apologized before now.”

His eyebrows rose. “Not necessary. So,” he said a trace too casually, “you have some
sight
. Do you foresee?”

She shook her head. “No, I don't see the future, I see the past.” She scanned the portion of the labyrinth she could see. Before her, the path was set with crushed rock the color of charcoal. Dotting the landscape were about ten Family shrines; a tangle of plant life in various hues banded the slope of the crater up to the smooth rim. “It didn't look like this long ago.”

“How long ago?” His voice was even, mild, but she felt a throb of intense curiosity from him.

“I don't know.” She put together more cheese and crackers, dividing the amount evenly between herself and Ilex and handing him his. “But there were people, so it was after the colonists' ships landed.” She screwed up her face, reaching for impressions. “Perhaps just after Landing.”

“That was over four centuries ago.”

She glanced aside. “I can sometimes see all the way back to ancient Earth.”

“Lady and Lord.”

Trif waved a hand. “This was new then, the crater.” She frowned. “Very new. Do you think it had something to do with the colonists?”

He shook his head. “I don't know.”

“Maybe I'll research it.”

His face lightened. “A good idea.”
It will keep you out of trouble.

She barely heard the thought, but the muscles of his face shifted and she knew what he was thinking. “Humph.” She stood and tossed her head, stepped back out onto the labyrinth, glanced back at him. “And maybe I won't.”

With a gesture, he sent the cheese and crackers back where they'd come from, probably the wooden cabinet at the other side of the bench that had a no-time food storage. Knowing Ilex, he'd inform the Caraways of their meal and offer to replace the amount they ate. A thoroughly honorable man, Ilex.

Sometimes that grated on her nerves. He seemed too perfect. “I don't think I'll be raising my Flair again on this walk out.”

Nodding, he said. “I agree.”

Yes, too damn perfect.

 

I
lex watched Trif closely as she marched along the path.
She wasn't letting the labyrinth do its work, but he was in no mood to reprimand her. She'd scared him to the bone.

He'd been acutely aware of her walking behind him, and when the path doubled back, he watched her intently. Her Flair had fluctuated wildly and his gut had tightened as he'd sensed the uncontrolled power. He had the idea that she thought she'd been managing it. Far from the truth. It was obvious her psi power still mastered her. And she still wasn't proficient in teleportation. When he thought of those instants where they spun in nowhere, what might have happened if she'd been alone, his very bones chilled with fear for her and he shivered in the sunlight.

They were on the last stretch of the path when Ilex was enveloped by the scent of heliotrope, and was struck by a vision of his own. He stopped in his tracks, the familiar rippling rainbow haze alerting him that his weak foresight Flair was starting. He'd have tried to press on, but he didn't want Trif to notice anything was wrong, and his small visions usually didn't last more than a moment—of outside time. Internally, they might stretch hours. Cave of the Dark Goddess, why now? They were so close to being able to teleport out. Had his HeartMate's spiky Flair triggered his own?

Then he was frozen in it, a reluctant observer, lost to outside reality.

As always, details were foggy. There was a gleaming curve of brass he couldn't interpret. Then he saw a reddish tiled floor, wet with water and blood.

His prone body.

The side of his head looked—bad. Blood covered his still face, coating it like a red death mask, turning the light brown of his uniform rusty. It didn't look as if he was still bleeding.

That meant he was dead.

A creak came, a pair of huge red eyes stared at him, then undulated through the room in a terrifying manner.

Trif 's scream in the
future
mixed with her shout in the
present
and he snapped back.

She'd reached the end of the labyrinth and was dancing ahead of him; then she waved her hand in the air and her tin whistle appeared in it. She began a merry tune.

Teleportation of objects—an excellent sign. He ached to know that she'd be safe when he was…gone, that he'd helped her in one way, at least—teaching her to 'port.

He fixed a smile on his face and forced his feet to move to the end of the labyrinth where they could teleport away from this place and the vision that had wrecked his fragile hope of love once more.

As soon as he finished the path, she pulled her lips from the whistle and leapt at him.

His arms curved around her reflexively. Her lips still pulsed with music as she pressed her mouth to his.

And he was lost. Again.

He opened his lips to her probing tongue, desire pouring through him as her sweet taste slipped forever into his being. His hands went to her hips, pulling her tight against him, delighting in the feel of her against his rigid shaft. The length of her fit him, her scent—fresh with a hint of arousal—sank into him. His own tongue thrust into her mouth, mimicking the love act. A fog of passion numbed his mind and only his body mattered—and how she felt. Her soft body, humming with vitality, her round breasts, full hips, slightly curved stomach against him, holding him.

She broke the kiss and looked up at him with emerald eyes. Her lips were red, marked with his hard kiss. “Ilex,” she said on a ragged breath, blinking. “You
are
attracted to me. You don't have a lover, a HeartMate?”

Nettle lashes of pain stung him. He flinched. He'd just seen his own death. What was he thinking to endanger her so?

“I told you I didn't connect with one during my Passages, and linking with someone then is the only sure sign. Leave it be, Trif. Our kiss was a sudden impulse, is all.” It hurt to say the words, to deceive her.

Not to be able to claim her.

The more he was with her, the more it hurt. Reckless, he pulled an image of her work place from her mind and 'ported them there, then left her. He teleported to his own office, shut the door, and leaned against it. His head ached, his body throbbed with vicious need. At the same time his very soul felt shattered beyond mending.

He couldn't have her. He'd been a fool to think he could.

If he loved her, took her, bound her to him, she would die soon after he. And a solidity to his vision meant it would be shortly in the future.

He couldn't allow that to happen.

 

T
rif managed to get through the day, head buzzing with
questions about Ilex. He wasn't a man who showed his emotions, yet there'd been a flash of excruciating pain after she'd asked her stupid question.

Obviously, the matter of HeartMates was a sensitive one with him. Why hadn't she realized sooner? Something had gone wrong with his life in that direction, she sensed it deep inside. Something about his HeartMate had wounded him. Had he found her, but she'd died before the HeartBond was in place? Was she married to another as Trif had heard was the case with Tinne Holly's HeartMate?

There were a few reasons why HeartMates stayed apart, but not many, and she'd messed up her chances of asking him casually. She'd just caused him pain, and for that she ached too.

She'd done everything all wrong with him, and now it would be difficult to find an easy manner with him again. The kiss had been exciting, ravishing even. And she'd forfeited any more of those feelings too.

When she reached home that evening, she wanted to play something on her silver flute that would soothe Ilex, but her own emotions were too raw. They'd spill out into her music and hurt him even more with melancholy tones. Besides, she'd promised T'Willow that she would leave his HeartGift in a very public place, and had decided the Maypole dance club would be perfect. Maybe the place and people and the live music would lift her spirits.

She eyed the small wooden box she'd placed T'Willow's pouch in. Though she didn't feel the waves of heavy sexuality a HeartMate would from the gift, waves of
something
—T'Willow's intense desire to find her—emanated from it enough to make her uncomfortable. She wanted it out of her home.

So she dressed up in fancy underpinnings and a filmy chiff gown that floated around her. Instead of braiding her hair—this year's fashion—she left it loose around her shoulders, and used discreet makeup.

Greyku watched the whole process with fascination, now and then licking a paw to groom herself.
Where are We going?

Trif lifted her eyebrows at the little cat. “I am going to a dance club, the Maypole.”

I can dance!
Greyku jumped and did a pirouette.

Trif 's mouth fell open. She shut it and cleared her throat. “Yes. Well. I think cats' natural movements are dance.”

Greyku sat smugly, nose lifted in the air.
Of course.

“But the music may be very loud, and there will be a lot of people.” Trif looked at her kitten doubtfully. “I'd hate for you to get lost or, or
stolen.
”

With a huff, Greyku said,
I will not let Myself get stolen. I can yowl.
She opened her mouth.

“No, don't demonstrate. I've heard you yowl.” Trif frowned. “If you're sure you want to come…”

The kitten looked around the apartment.
You will be gone and without you this place is bo-ring. I want More.

“I think you always do,” Trif murmured.

Nothing wrong with wanting More,
Greyku assured her.

“I suppose not.” She wanted more of Ilex's kisses, but put that stray thought out of her head. It wouldn't happen…until she figured out what had gone wrong with his HeartMate. Could a man ever really love a woman if he had lost a Heart-Mate? So many difficult matters that she'd never considered. How much did Tinne Holly love his wife? Now that was something she'd never learn. Still, from the times she'd seen the couple together, they were attracted to each other and caring.

Clovers didn't often have HeartMates, yet she knew her parents loved each other deeply. For an instant, Trif thought she could settle—perhaps with someone like Ilex—then brushed the thought aside. Ever since she'd felt her HeartMate in her Passage, she'd wanted him, and the erotic dreams she experienced made her yearning something that wouldn't vanish soon.

She wondered if he shared those dreams.

The idea was revitalizing. She cast one last look at herself in a mirror, put T'Willow's box in her pursenal, then picked up Greyku and held her to meet her eyes. “You must be careful.”

And how had she become the lecturer? She smiled. “Let's go.”

Greyku purred.
Go get more fun.