Heart Search (26 page)

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Authors: Robin D Owens

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal

BOOK: Heart Search
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In a low mental voice, nearly hesitant, the Residence answered Laev.
Your FatherSire consulted with T’Willow, the matchmaker, about your HeartMate
.
“What!”
I believe he—they—both T’Willow and your FatherSire discovered who your HeartMate was.
“Did either of the men tell you?”
A long second of silence. “No.”
“Did they tell anyone in the Family?”
“No.”
“But you, Residence, and perhaps some members of my Family know who she is?”
“Perhaps a few of us believe we know who she is,” the Residence muttered.
Though Laev nearly thrummed with suppressed passions—anger, curiosity, wariness—Brazos was sniffing around the floor moldings of the room.
The Residence said, “Please, T’Hawthorn, Laev, do not ask me more questions. Your FatherSire cared for you greatly and for the Family, and did not believe you were ready to acknowledge your HeartMate.”
Since Laev agreed, he shouldn’t feel such anger, or taste the bitterness coating his tongue. And he’d known for years that if he’d truly put his mind to discovering his HeartMate, it wouldn’t take long to learn who she was. “I don’t care for secrets, Residence.”
“No, T’Hawthorn.”
“Good. You recognize that I am in charge, here?”
“Yes, T’Hawthorn.”
A thudding came from the dressing room where the wall safe was, and Laev entered the space—which was larger than both his own dressing room and the MasterSuite’s—to find Brazos leaping toward the safe set in a small alcove high in the wall. Laev returned to a previous topic. “So when were these rooms altered?”
He almost thought he heard the Residence sigh. “We did it the week after your FatherSire’s death. You were grieving hard and did not notice. We used gilt from the petty cash fund.”
Which meant the petty cash fund was a great deal larger than most commoner family fortunes. Laev hadn’t scrutinized the housekeeper’s fund, but recalled he’d thought it was healthy, enough to run the household for five years. He’d have thought that the staff would have come to him if they needed more gilt. “Does the petty cash need to be replenished?”
“No, T’Hawthorn.”
“Very well. Open the safe.”
The door swung wide and Laev looked inside. He remembered all the jewelry he’d given Nivea and there weren’t nearly enough plush boxes. He pulled them out, found they were empty. There was a fine cloth jewelry storage roll with clear compartments. When he opened it up, he saw a few trinkets, but nothing of value.
“We didn’t give any of her jewelry to her Family?” He wanted confirmation from the Residence.
“No, T’Hawthorn.”
But Laev knew where they’d gone—probably where some of the Hawthorn items had gone, too. He kept his voice mild but inwardly seethed. “She was generous to her friends.” Her lovers. She’d been generous to her lovers. “Send a copy of the inventory to Primross.”
“Yes, T’Hawthorn.”
Laev translocated the jewelry boxes with T’Ash’s logo to T’Ash’s Residence package cache with a note that the contents were missing and the GreatLord could recycle the boxes. Then Laev rolled up the silkeen jewelry holder and sent that to the Sunflowers’ house cache—they’d been too improvident to hang on to the Family home.
No use pretending to himself anymore that betrayal hadn’t happened and hadn’t stung. He’d known Nivea had had lovers, though he could never prove it.
“Residence, was my FatherSire ever contacted for gilt to redeem jewels that Nivea gave away?”
“No.”
If T’Ash had seen anyone wearing jewels he’d crafted for Nivea, he would have told Laev’s FatherSire or Laev.
Laev would have to tell Primross that someone was holding on to them. The same person who might have Laev’s HeartGift.
He’d brought such a mean and petty woman into the Family. A woman who hadn’t known the meaning of honor, who hadn’t kept her marriage vows.
He needed a shower. Or sparring. Or good sweaty sparring, then a shower. “I’m going to the Green Knight. I’ll be back whenever.” He had no more work that had to be done that day. No heart to do it. He’d been working hard and even he needed a day off now and again.
I am going, too,
Brazos said, trotting over to Laev. The cat had explored every corner, not that there was much to see. Laev paused, closed his eyes, expanded his senses to test every aspect of the room with his Flair.
No lingering resonance of Nivea at all. Everything was clean and fresh. These rooms had been cleansed, physically, by Flair, and spiritually after Nivea’s death. The Residence itself had gone through many cleansings since then.
He strode back to the sitting room door, out into the corridor. “Laev?” the Residence whispered.
“Yes?”
“Would you care to inspect your FatherSire’s rooms? You should have the MasterSuite.”
His hands fisted. “The MasterSuite does not have a sparring salon.”
“We need to remodel those rooms, too, then,” the Residence said.
“This whole side is interconnecting rooms between the MasterSuite and the MistrysSuite. I want an additional room for the MasterSuite, but I do not wish to take one away from the MistrysSuite.”
“We have a conundrum, then.”
“Yes.”
There was a very quiet noise that Laev couldn’t quite place but recognized that the Residence made.
“Perhaps we could hire the architect, Antenn Moss-Blackthorn, to view the chambers and advise us.”
Another of Laev’s old friends. One he hadn’t seen in a while, but who had never judged Laev, a reason he should have kept in touch with him, but . . . “Wasn’t he off to the
Lugh’s Spear
expedition?”
“He is returning. He stated that he is not interested in that Ship until it is ready to be excavated.”
“Ah. Yes, bring him in.” Laev looked at the sturdy door to the MasterSuite. Of course the rooms were the most shielded of those outside of the HouseHeart. “Open the door to the MasterSuite.”
The Residence did and the scent of his FatherSire wafted from the dark rooms, making Laev’s throat tighten. How he missed the man. Little light filtered through the heavy curtains on the western windows. Even as he squinted to make out the familiar room, the Residence flashed spellglobes into existence.
Laev’s jaw flexed.
Brazos bolted through the doors to explore more forbidden territory, and Laev relaxed. Another being he loved. Not one who would ever replace his FatherSire, but the cat was his in a way no one and nothing had been. It was enough to remember that.
“Contact Antenn when possible for a consultation to reorder the suites.” Thankfully, the work wouldn’t be fast or easy. Laev was reconciling to the notion of relocating into the MasterSuite, but it would be a while until he was ready. “Move out all the furniture and the carpets. Have the walls tinted the same color as the MistrysSuite.”
“There are masterpieces that have been in that suite for generations—holo paintings, other paintings, old-time books, rugs . . .” Even as the Residence recited, images of his FatherSire’s favorites flashed through Laev’s memory. All too painful. He wanted nothing in there. “We have no-time vaults where such masterpieces can be stored, don’t we? If I want anything from the suite, I can always have it returned.”
“The storage areas are full.”
Laev couldn’t tell whether the Residence was fibbing or not. “Then designate another room and have vaults put in—by D’Thyme.”
A hesitation. This time Laev knew the Residence was scrying the home of D’Thyme. “She is booked for three months. Unless you want to pay a premium . . .”
“I don’t mind staying in my own rooms.”
Alma Hawthorn, the housekeeper, came up the stairs, a fixed smile on her face. Obviously the Residence had contacted her for reinforcements. He glanced at her. “I haven’t reviewed household expenses to see if anything should be cut.” He knew she purchased some favorite herbal tea from
Nuada’s Sword
for herself from the funds and didn’t share. Her eyes widened.
“Is Brazos in the MasterSuite?”
“He won’t hurt anything.” Laev hoped.
“Ah, Laev, T’Hawthorn,” Alma said. He thought her tone was supposed to be light and firm, but it wobbled a bit and was higher than usual. She reached for his arm, then withdrew her hand. “I know you like the styles of a century and a half ago. Your FatherSire didn’t. You might want to peruse the objects in those no-time vaults and see if there’s anything you’d prefer for the MasterSuite. Then furniture can be switched out.”
Laev stared at her. “We’ll be remodeling the entire Master- and MistrysSuites, perhaps changing the dimensions of the rooms to include a new sparring room.” The more he thought of it, the more he liked the idea. A visual of Camellia Darjeeling fighting passed through his mind. “Put the sparring room between the suites. No one ever said a D’Hawthorn might not like to fight, or need to.”
“Ah, Laev, the beds in the MasterSuite and MistrysSuite were made for them. Their veneers can, of course, be exchanged, we bought a full range when the beds were made . . .”
“I want reddwood. Make sure Antenn knows that moving them from the bedrooms will be problematic, but we might be able to angle them differently. I’ll want to see Antenn as soon as he comes, clear my calendar for that, and I am available for him any time he is here. He’s my friend, not just a consultant. Now I’m off to the Green Knight.” He recalled something and smiled. “It’s time for the Master Melee. A lot of my old friends will be there, maybe even Antenn. If he is, I’ll let him know we want him as a consultant. I trust my wishes are understood?”
“Yes, T’Hawthorn.”
Brazos trotted from the MasterSuite door, dropped a dead and bloody mouse at Laev’s feet, sat, and preened. Laev bent down and rubbed the cat’s head. “Excellent.” He glanced at Alma. “Take care of the mouse, and you and Residence check the MasterSuite for any more.” He turned and walked back to his rooms, donned his fighting clothes, and teleported away.
 
 
F
eeling warm and satisfied after a Master Melee session in the
Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon, Laev said “merry parts” to friends and began walking toward the teleportation pad in the atrium of the building. Antenn Moss-Blackthorn had not been at the fight, might not have arrived in the city yet.
Laev rolled his shoulders and congratulated himself that he felt fitter and wouldn’t ache as much as he had before. His body had finally become accustomed to sparring and exercise again.
“T’Hawthorn?” A big man puffed out Laev’s name as he hung a coat and scarf up on one of the pegs. He’d arrived by glider instead of teleporting.
“Yes?” Laev struggled to place him, then realized the GraceLord had lost weight and toned since Laev had seen him last. The man had about fifteen minutes before review drills started. This was Camellia Darjeeling’s sparring partner. “T’Lemongrass?”
“Right. Honored you recalled my name. A moment of your time, please.” His tone had a compressed intensity that caught Laev.
“Of course.”
“Think I have something of yours—Hawthorn’s,” Lemongrass said.
Laev’s blood chilled and chugged sluggishly through his veins. He forced himself to remain casual, though he wanted to roll his shoulders again to loosen muscles that had tightened into bands. “Yes?”
“Yah. Glad you’re here. I was going to have Tinne lock them up until tonight. You usually attend melee and I can’t tonight—our Family was one of the lucky ones invited to participate in the annual Great Labyrinth Weekend Celebration and Fair.”
“Sounds fun.” Laev hadn’t attended that new fair. The celebration had started after he and Nivea had moved to Gael City, and bloomed in the years when they were gone. Nivea had never gone, either.
“Yes, the Family is very pleased our name was drawn, but it’s a responsibility to show the best of who we are. Need to spruce up our Family shrine. The descent into the bowl of the crater and chant is tonight,” Lemongrass enthused. He slanted a look at Laev. “You should come. You know all of the FirstFamilies are automatically invited.”
Had Primross said that, it would have been a sneer at privilege. Lemongrass stated it as a fact of life he had no intention of arguing about.
Laev smiled. “Maybe I will.”
A chime sounded and Lemongrass winced. “Running a little behind and I came early and all to have them stored proper.” His face set into a weighty expression and a sigh rumbled deep from his belly. “Suppose it must be meant that I meet you here and now.” He opened and closed his fingers. “M’Flair’s telemetry—sensing an object’s past—and I could tell that the things were stolen, but they are so damn beautiful.” He rubbed his face. “But they gotta go back to you.”
Lemongrass had said
they
. Disappointment twisted Laev’s gut that it wasn’t his HeartGift, and he flipped through his memory for a missing
they
. Only the desk set . . .

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