Heart Fate (25 page)

All of the Family who worked in the Residence, on the estate, or even hired out as guards for other Nobles in Druida, had gathered. Tinne sidled over to Tab. The Blackthorns with an actively fussing babe in arms and their other two children stood off to the side. Everyone was beaming.

Tab, always astute, set his hand on Tinne's shoulder, and it felt supportive, bracing.

Holm lifted his champagne glass and said, “I am pleased to announce that Lark and I are having a child.”

Joyful shouts came from everyone, reverberated against Tinne's ears, reminding him that this had happened, too, when he and Genista had announced their forthcoming baby. He grunted, settled into his balance. Tab squeezed his shoulder, sending Tinne some Flair. Which was good, because his knees went weak and his gut roiled.

But he had to do his duty. Tinne forced a smile and with careful steps, he walked to Holm and Lark. Silence fell.

Tinne met his brother's serious eyes. Tinne loved Holm, but this was hard, hard. Stepping close he embraced his older brother and hugged him tight. “Blessings,” he choked out. The past was overwhelming him. His brother had not been in the gathering to wish him and Genista joy.

Holm held him close, sent Tinne more Flair. “Thank you.”

Tinne turned to Lark, the Healer. Her violet eyes held a sheen of sorrow, though she smiled. He hugged her, too. And she gave him Flair. The Family bond expanded inside Tinne, and he felt the warmth of all for him, the acknowledgment by all of his loss, the rising gladness that a new child would be born.

His hurt was accepted, then it was eased by the love of his Family for him. He kissed Lark's temple. When he drew away his smile was genuine. “Blessings on you and the babe.”

“Thank you, brother,” she said. Her gaze searched his face. “You are looking better.”

He summoned a chuckle. “The Turquoise House is endlessly amusing.” And time in FirstGrove was Healing itself. And Lahsin was undemanding, had no expectations of him.

Lark smiled. “I'm glad.”

Tinne's father avoided meeting his eyes. Tinne retreated, and the Blackthorns came to congratulate Holm and Lark, baby wailing. As soon as that was done, they muttered apologies and left.

Tinne returned to Tab, who said, “You did very well. I'm proud of you.”

Holm put his hand on Vinni T'Vine's shoulder. “Vinni has agreed to be the oracle at the birth of our child, reading the character and strength of his or her Flair.”

There were mutterings of approval.

“That won't be cheap,” Tab said.

“Now let's celebrate together with good food and good ale.” Holm gestured to the long tables at the side of the room, laden with a feast. Other, smaller tables were scattered throughout the large chamber. Holm led Lark to the food and took a plate, attentive to her choices. Voices rose as the Family discussed the news and headed toward the food.

Tab nudged Tinne. “Sorry, boy, but ya can't leave afore you eat with your folks.”

“And you.”

“And me. I'll be right with ya.”

“Thanks.”

“Ya done well,” he repeated.

Tinne piled food almost absently on his plate, steeled himself, and took a seat at the table with his parents and brother and sister-in-law. Vinni T'Vine stood beside it.

“Vinni, will you stay for dinner?” asked Tinne's Mamá.

“I'd be honored, but I must go to the Reeds'.” A smile too cynical for a child his age curved his lips. “I think they're angling for a free consultation without actually asking.”

“Blessings, then,” Lark said.

“And to you.” He grinned. “This will be fun. You're the first folks to ask me to be an oracle, and I've been T'Vine six years. My thanks.” He bowed smoothly and went to the door where a brand-new glider waited.

An awkward silence draped the table. All of them should have been asked to the T'Reed holiday party. They hadn't been, or Tinne would have had it on his calendarsphere.

Tab slashed a look at the others and leaned back in his chair. When he spoke the tang of the seaman was in his voice. “My invites haven't changed muchly.” He shrugged. “The older, less Noble generation. We all know that scandal'll touch everyone sooner'a later.” He inhaled and exhaled audibly. “The Green Knight has lost some patrons, but not 'nough to affect profits. Had some inquiries from middle-class folk, and we'll be makin' up the loss with 'em. New blood. Good business.” He nodded.

Lark's shoulders hunched, and a wave of certainty washed over Tinne that she and his brother had plenty of holiday invitations.

The scandal revolved mostly around him and his parents then.

His Mamá straightened in her chair and lifted her chin. “Tinne, I believe you will find that your own message cache is full. We haven't been forwarding it to the Turquoise House.” She reached over and took his father's hand. A flush came to her cheeks that he thought was embarrassment.

He said what he felt and what he knew might distract them. “I don't want to go out. Not even to the club.”

His Mamá focused on him. “But you must!”

They weren't politicking this year but he kept that comment between his teeth. “I don't care to be social.”

Lark said, “You are now an eligible bachelor again.”

They all stared at her.

Tinne gave a crack of laughter. “Surely not. My marriage just ended in divorce. Not a good husband.”

“You're wealthy, handsome, charming, Noble. The gossip in my women's club is that Genista was a fool to leave you.”

“Why would I want to marry a woman who'd prefer a loveless marriage than to make a future for herself?” he asked softly. All the women in his life were strong enough to do that. He could only admire them even if he hurt.

“Good point.” Tab nodded.

“What of your HeartMate?” T'Holly's voice grated out.

“No.” He stood, knocking over his chair. As far as they all knew his HeartMate was still married. He'd choose when to tell them. If they knew she was Lahsin, they'd be after him to wed again, as soon as possible, perhaps smooth the scandal over.

No, he was too cynical. They'd want him to marry again to be happy, to find what they had. He didn't think such bliss was possible. He wasn't even sure when contentment might be within reach, or an absence of pain. “I don't intend to marry—to have a long-term woman—soon. I won't be bringing anyone here.” That sounded as if he condemned them. “I don't want a lover.” His words were deteriorating with his emotions, his control. He managed a courteous nod to his parents.

When he turned stiffly to his brother, Holm, and Lark, he softened. His love for them was untarnished. He found heartfelt and true words. “I'm very glad that you will be having a child. I'll welcome a niece or nephew. Blessings again.” If he let it, the need to hold a babe in his arms might rip at him, so he smiled, nodded once more to Tab. “Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again.” He left and only heard one last sentence from his Mamá's rising voice. “But what does he
do
in the evenings? Drum all night?”

He thought Lark murmured an answer, but it couldn't be the truth. He'd had no inclination to drum. He preferred to visit FirstGrove, take sanctuary, and meet his HeartMate, who had as many problems as he.

 
 
Lahsin was dozing on the underwater bench in the Healing pool
when the splash roused her. She blinked in the steam to see Tinne cutting fast through the water down the length of the pool.

He was hurting more tonight, then.

Squinting, she saw that he'd folded his clothes on his usual bench and had remembered to bring the daily newssheets.

Since she'd had enough of the pool and he didn't want to talk, she slipped from the water and dressed, hesitating. He might not want her company, but she still wanted his. He was the only human she'd seen in days, so she'd linger. She walked around the pool and picked up the newssheet.

A hologram of her face projected from the front. She flinched. So
childish
. The image was only a few months old, taken on her Nameday. She hadn't looked in a mirror lately. She'd appear more like an adult now, wouldn't she? Or wouldn't her features get more definition until after her Second Passage?

She became aware of the murmuring of the newssheet. “
Burdocks Beg Lahsin to Come Home!
” There were smaller headlines in red.
Her Healer Is Standing By! Warns of Erratic Behavior!

Suddenly she was cold, the steam of the pool clammy instead of comforting, the herbs astringent and stinging her nose. She couldn't seem to loosen her grip on the newssheet.

Her eyes tracked the print, and she got colder. The Burdocks and Yews believed she remained in Druida City. As she had, changing her plans from traveling north. They'd search for her.

Then she found her teeth grinding and welcomed the hot sting of anger. Healer indeed!
Which
Healer? She scanned the article. It didn't name the “Healer,” though she could have used one after Taxa's pinching and Ioho's slaps and rutting. Did it mention her Second Passage? That she was an adult?

It did but with a slant. Her mother's face showed silver tear traces. “Lahsin is so delicate, she needs to be in a safe place.” She was in a safe place, no thanks to her mother. “We worry so about her.” Lahsin snorted. “Her husband is too distraught to speak . . .” With fury, Lahsin figured. As if he'd ever give a quote to a newssheet.

She threw the thing to the ground. Kicked it. Stomped on it. Kicked it again into the arbor and ordered, “Disintegrate!” With anger had come a tiny flick of Flair. She watched as the newssheet became pulp held together by a spell, then turned into mulch.

“Satisfying?” Tinne said.

He'd made no noise rising from the pool, droplets trailed down his muscular body, caught here and there in his chest hair and on his legs. He wasn't a very hairy man, though hairier than T'Yew's sparse grayness. Lahsin liked that.

She realized she was staring and hurried away to her travel sack, which she'd mended, brought out a large jar of salve for him, strode back, two arms' lengths away from him.

He was dry, the air around him wavered with a weathershield. He wore only a swim cloth, and his hands were open at his sides. He still looked like the most dangerous man she'd ever met. He'd proven that he could move fast the night before.

The quiet stretched. Then he turned, went to his clothes, and bent over to pick them up. His muscles appeared fine to her, not needing anything. But she caught a glimpse of his face in the shadows, and it showed grief.

“Wait.” Without letting her mind—her fear—control her, she scurried up to him, thrust out the jar.

He straightened and took the jar from her with grave courtesy. “Thank you.” Opening it, he inhaled and his lips curved in a slight smile. “
Thank you.
My G'Uncle Tab had an ointment that smelled like this when I was a child, made by his FatherDam, but when it was gone, none of us knew the recipe.” Tinne shrugged. “We're a Family of fighters.” He scooped some salve up on his fingers, held it to his nose, sighed. “Yes, that's the right scent.”

“It's a recipe passed down in the Burdocks. I didn't have any Flair to mix in with it, but it has blessings.” She stepped back several paces.

“Blessings are always welcome.” His smile fell away, his hurt returned before he veiled it. He rubbed his arms and legs, and his breath came out in another quiet sigh. “Nice.”

“I can give you the recipe.”

“Thank you, that would pay for anything I might teach you.”

Since he'd brought it up, she said. “I
do
want to learn self-defense.”

He nodded, glanced at her with a steady gaze, and held out the jar. “Then why don't you rub this on my back?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, swallowed, stared at the jar.

He put it down. Turned his back to her. “Saille T'Willow got me a good hit near my kidneys.”

The bruise was large and purpling. Lahsin winced. Set her mouth. She was
not
delicate. She was sturdy.

Tinne looked at her over his shoulder. “If you can't even touch my back, how do you think you'll be able to endure my touch for instruction?”

“I ... I ...”

A snort of exasperation. “Do you have your staff?”

“Yes.”

“Go get it. You can hit me if you think I'll hurt you.”

“I couldn't do that.”

He turned to face her now, brows lowered, jaw grim. “Lahsin, I give you permission to fight, to hurt me if you think I'm going to hurt you. More. I give you permission to fight, to hurt
anyone
who tries to hurt you. Do you hear what I'm saying?”

“Yes!”

Nodding, he said, “Why don't you repeat after me, ‘I am allowed to hurt anyone who is trying to hurt me.' ”

“I am allowed to hurt anyone who's trying to hurt me.”

“Good. I want you to say that three times a day. Now, can you put ointment on my back or not? This weathershield is tiring, and I need Flair to 'port home.”

She lifted her chin. “I can rub the salve on your back.” She didn't get her stick, but marched forward and scooped up the jar. He certainly hadn't hesitated to slather it on himself, it was a quarter gone already.

But she paused when her fingertips touched strong muscle under supple skin. He'd dropped the weathershield and though his body was warm, it would cool quickly.

“This is no time for hesitation,” Tinne said.