Heart Search (21 page)
You have been behind that desk all day long!
Brazos accused.
Brazos accused.
“That’s right.” Laev grinned at him. “Making gilt . . . enough so that in a year I could boost my Fam’s allowance.”
Brazos purred loudly, cocked his head.
Muscles stiff.
Muscles stiff.
Surprised that the cat noticed, Laev said, “Yes.”
We should go to the Green Knight.
Now the cat mentioned it, Laev liked the idea. He stretched. Brazos followed suit, flexing his young muscles.
Maybe other Cats there for play. I am large and strong and will be alpha.
Maybe other Cats there for play. I am large and strong and will be alpha.
“Holm HollyHeir and his HeartMate have cats who play there.” Laev rolled his shoulders, anticipating action that would wring the stress from them. “And you aren’t larger or stronger than Tinne Holly’s hunting cat.”
We will see. I will have a bit of shredded clucker before we leave.
Laev thought he’d have broth. He considered cats and violent activity after eating. “I’m not cleaning up your vomit. You have to do that yourself.”
I won’t regurgitate my food.
Laev figured those were famous last words.
Y
ou are holding me too tightly! Mica said but didn’t wriggle or hop
from Camellia’s arms as they headed to the Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon for her testing. Camellia loosened her grip, uncaring that the cat’s claws were ripping holes in her loose fighting tunic. Her clothes were grayish and frayed. She hadn’t noticed until she’d scanned the three sets. Finally she just put on the best.
ou are holding me too tightly! Mica said but didn’t wriggle or hop
from Camellia’s arms as they headed to the Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon for her testing. Camellia loosened her grip, uncaring that the cat’s claws were ripping holes in her loose fighting tunic. Her clothes were grayish and frayed. She hadn’t noticed until she’d scanned the three sets. Finally she just put on the best.
Down, please,
Mica said.
Are we near the training place?
Mica said.
Are we near the training place?
They’d teleported to the closest pad that Camellia knew. Pushing her shoulders back, she said, “Right down the street, see the big sign?”
Mica sniffed.
I smell other Cats!
I smell other Cats!
“Probably, I think the Hollys have cats.” Camellia lagged a little behind her Fam. She’d added a cloak over her clothes. Soon she was entering the door, and her nose was hit by the scent of men.
She stopped. Breathed shallowly. How often had she smelled the sweat of her father or uncle? Not often, not much; they didn’t work or play that hard. They preferred scamming through life. She could do this.
The lobby of the salon was wide and had a teleportation pad to her right, double swinging doors ahead of her with small glass panes, and a lecternlike thing with a silver appointment sphere spinning in the middle.
Camellia swallowed, walked up to the lectern. Shouts and yells came from beyond the doors, then they swung open and Tinne Holly walked out, a muscular man in his prime. A man who was from the highest of Families. A horrible feeling of being in the wrong place dropped over her like a blanket. She didn’t think she could move.
He offered a charming smile and a bow . . . a fighter’s bow. A few seconds passed before her muscles jerked a response. Her lips felt numb. Too many men.
“Greetyou,” Tinne said, smiling with real charm.
“I . . . think this may be a mistake.”
His platinum brows rose. “No. You’re just nervous. Are you going to let your nerves . . . whatever caused them, win?”
She sensed that Acacia had told him more than Camellia was comfortable with, but he had a point. Her spine stiffened. “I’m here to test.”
“And so we shall. There are some private rooms through that door.” He gestured to a sturdy wooden door in the left corner.
“Thank you for seeing me.” Gathering her courage, Camellia walked to the door and opened it.
Mica mewed.
Tinne Holly squatted easily, holding out his hand. “Who are you?” He scratched her under her chin.
I am Mica Darjeeling. I am a friend of Brazos Hawthorn.
“Ah, I know Brazos.” Tinne rose. “You, Fam, are welcome here as long as you keep to the sides of all the rooms. If you are ever on a mat, you will be banned from ever coming back.”
Mica gasped.
Ever!
Ever!
“That’s right. I’ve found it best to lay out firm rules for Fams.” Tinne winked at Camellia. She knew he was trying to relax her, but with every minute, her muscles strung into tight strands. He motioned for Camellia to step into a narrow hallway lined with several more doors that must lead to private sparring rooms.
Camellia heard Mica squeal behind her, but the cat didn’t enter the hallway.
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Camellia knew she was stiff, slow, fearful. Somehow she couldn’t get past that, knew her moves were lackluster.
Then Tinne shouted, and the door burst open and a large, dark shape shot toward her. Father! Run! No, stand! Stand and fight!
Her breath came short, true fear now, he’d hurt her if he could. She whirled and kicked, caught him in the gut, he folded in a grunt, she continued with her move, set up the next, took him down with another kick, jumped to place her foot on his neck, and stared into protuberant blue eyes of a red-faced and sweating man.
Not her father. He caught her foot and it was her turn to go flying, then they rose and circled . . . and she got a good workout. They were down on the mat and wrestling when Tinne shouted, “Stop!”
Camellia came to herself, rose, and bowed to her opponent, turned to Tinne, hesitated as she saw Laev T’Hawthorn, Brazos, and Mica with the Holly.
Fourteen
C
amellia bowed to Tinne.
amellia bowed to Tinne.
He nodded to her and to her opponent. “I believe you are well matched. I’ll put you down for sparring practice . . .” Tinne stared at the man’s thickened middle. “Three nights a week for a septhour and a half, and a septhour before NoonBell on Koad so I can check on you both.”
My FamWoman is very good,
Mica purred, sitting proudly by Brazos.
Mica purred, sitting proudly by Brazos.
Tinne’s lips twitched, then he clapped Laev on his shoulder. “As for you, my friend, let’s see what we can do in sparring room three.”
Sweaty hair hanging in her eyes—she’d have to get that cut or put it up better—Camellia offered Laev a weak smile. All she could think of was that she must look terrible, hair tangled and sweaty, face flushed. Her shabby fighting clothes showing patches of sweat.
My FamMan is even better,
Brazos said. He looked at Mica, then Camellia, and sent a strong telepathic sentence.
You should come watch.
Brazos said. He looked at Mica, then Camellia, and sent a strong telepathic sentence.
You should come watch.
The last thing she wanted to do was see Laev’s muscles move in exertion that might remind her—and him—of midnight sex. “Thanks, not this time. I must set up our appointments.”
Her opponent was wheezing and on the mat. She went over and offered her hand. He took it gratefully, rocked to his feet with her help, and was close and in her space and smelling—not like her father. Citrusy. His hand was plumper than her father’s and he was scowling, but it held no threat. He aimed his frown at Tinne Holly. “Least you could do, boy, is introduce us properly.”
Laev strolled forward. His lashes were low over his eyes and his mouth curved in a half smile. Camellia felt every droplet of sweat on her body. Damn, she must look terrible. She tried to discreetly sniff and find out her scent, but her partner’s was too strong.
Laev bowed to him, a fighting bow to an equal.
The man snorted and dropped Camellia’s hand. “I ain’t your equal here, T’Hawthorn. Surprise you remember me.”
“I remember everyone in my clubs,” Laev said simply, and Camellia knew it was true. He would, because he was trained that way. He gestured from the man—surely a lord—to Camellia. “GraceLord Cymb Lemongrass, may I present GraceMistrys Camellia Darjeeling.”
“Good meetin’ you,” said the man who was rather shaped like her father, but so obviously unlike Guri in any other respect.
“A pleasure.” Camellia bowed as a lesser to him. They were close to equal in fighting experience, but whatever edge she might have in that area was lost in the outer-world’s social status.
Now Tinne Holly joined them, buffeted Camellia on her shoulder, enough to unbalance her if she hadn’t been strong in her fighter’s stance. “Good,” he said. “I accept you into the mid-level program, and we don’t follow outside rank here, only fighting levels count.” He nodded at them both. “Three nights a week.” Jerked a head to Laev. “And you’re rusty, so let’s go remedy that.”
Laev nodded to Lemongrass, turned, and smiled at her. “GraceMistrys.”
She cleared her throat, but her words still came out a squeak. “T’Hawthorn.” She watched the men leave . . . all right, she watched two very fine backsides leave, Brazos and Mica following. When she turned back to her opponent, he was at the side of the room, drying sweat from his neck and face with a towel. She winced, reminded once again how bad she must look.
“Let’s set this up,” Lemongrass said. He sounded irritated. Not angry, but the waves of annoyance kept her feet in the same spot, not crossing over to him. He caught her look, expanded his explanation. “Dammit, I wanted to be better than I am.”
A chuckle escaped Camellia. “So do I.”
He puffed a breath. “Suppose that means that we have to practice.”
“I suppose so.”
Grunting, he called up his calendarsphere. “Three nights a week,” he grumbled.
Camellia sighed, walked a little forward so her calendarsphere could interface with his. “Yes.”
They synchronized and chose their nights, and Lemongrass watched her with a considering look but said nothing more, and Camellia was glad. Did he know why he was specifically chosen as a partner for her? Her face heated, but her teeth gritted. She
would
do this.
would
do this.
T
inne Holly didn’t bother to hide his grin as he ushered Laev and the
cats into sparring room three. “Glad to have Darjeeling here. She was a little nervous and stiff at testing, but will do better.” He rubbed his hands. “She was recommended by Acacia Bluegum. We can make Darjeeling into a real fighter, once she gets over her issues with men.”
inne Holly didn’t bother to hide his grin as he ushered Laev and the
cats into sparring room three. “Glad to have Darjeeling here. She was a little nervous and stiff at testing, but will do better.” He rubbed his hands. “She was recommended by Acacia Bluegum. We can make Darjeeling into a real fighter, once she gets over her issues with men.”
“What issues?” tore from Laev.
Tinne’s brows went up. “You saw her father yesterday, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“All the noble circles are talking about his blasphemy.”
Left very nasty smell in office,
Mica added.
I have met the mean men.
Mica added.
I have met the mean men.
“What mean men?”
Sire and Sire’s littermate,
Brazos projected matter-of-factly, then went to sit on a carpeted wall shelf made for Fams.
Brazos projected matter-of-factly, then went to sit on a carpeted wall shelf made for Fams.
“Yes, Darjeeling will make a fighter,” Tinne said, then ran through a drill so fast he blurred. Laev winced. He was going to be a floor mop. Tinne would emphasize that he was out of practice. Well, he’d go down—literally—fighting.
Tinne bowed to him. “And she’s a very attractive girl.”
The back of Laev’s neck heated and he was glad he wore a groin guard and his trous were loose. He’d just caught a glimpse of her as he’d walked up to the threshold of the doorway and his body had hardened. The woman had looked like sex. Her breasts round, lifting and falling rapidly under her tunic, tendrils of dark brown-red hair curling damply at her temples, the sheen of perspiration revealed by the V of her tunic.
“Bow, Laev,” Tinne said.
Laev yanked his mind back to the present. No thought of the sexy Darjeeling or her past or her problems must distract him.
Too late.
C
amellia left the private sparring room and found Mica in the entry
chamber. The cat sat near a pile of clothing and a bag, tail around paws and a toothy smile.
amellia left the private sparring room and found Mica in the entry
chamber. The cat sat near a pile of clothing and a bag, tail around paws and a toothy smile.
“What’s this?” But Camellia knew, one of her better tunic and trous sets. She snatched the pale gold clothing up, shook out the few wrinkles that had gathered.
We should stay here.
“Why?”
You should watch people in big room. First big fight coming up.
The cat must mean there was a general free-for-all melee instead of any classes.
And Mica might have a point. Camellia would like to watch others—maybe even some of the good, even great, fighters. At least see who was here.
You didn’t bring other clothes, so Brazos and I went home and got these for you!
Mica’s smile widened into a scary cat grin.
Mica’s smile widened into a scary cat grin.
“Thanks.”
The little cat relaxed a little and the smile went away.
You go to waterfall room through big room,
Mica informed her.
Mica informed her.
“I see you’ve explored.”
“Yesss,” Mica vocalized.
And I have been very good, always close to the walls.
And I have been very good, always close to the walls.
“Wonderful.”
Yes, I am.
Mica stood and flicked her tail and waited for Camellia to open the door. Fighters stood silently on all four sides of the room, behind the sparring line, and she realized that a melee was about to start. She hurried into the ladies’ section before too many people noticed her since she still looked awful.
Mica stood and flicked her tail and waited for Camellia to open the door. Fighters stood silently on all four sides of the room, behind the sparring line, and she realized that a melee was about to start. She hurried into the ladies’ section before too many people noticed her since she still looked awful.
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