A twist of papyrus on the street near his glider door caught his eye. Odd because it was heavier than the few bits of other detritus in the street.
He picked it up, feeling slick Flair, unrolled it. Hand-printed words said:
You tortured and killed my lady. I will torture and kill yours, and that will torture you. I will let you live.
His whole body jolted. Was this a joke? Again he looked around, thought he saw a shadow or two standing at the windows—nosey neighbors or threats—or witnesses?
He didn’t even know if the note was for him. Why in the street and not attached to his glider? He turned the papyrus over, saw one word on the back.
Vengeance
. Then the thing burst into small flames in his hands. He swore, watched the ash lifted away.
Gliding home, he considered the note. He had never tortured or killed a woman. He couldn’t imagine that anyone else on that pretty block would have either. If
his
lady, Camellia, was in danger, he should hire a bodyguard for her. The best bodyguard in the business was his brother-in-heart, Cratag T’Marigold. He could just imagine what Camellia would say if Cratag followed her around.
Instead, when he got home, he scried Primross, who was still in Gael City, and told him about the piece of papyrus. “How seriously should I take it?”
Primross hesitated. “Anyone could do that little fire trick, either with spells or stage magic.”
“You said the Sunflowers made ludicrous charges against me. You interviewed them, do you think any of them would do something like that?”
“No,” Primross replied. He grimaced, shrugged. “You married into a lazy Family, Laev.”
“That’s my opinion, too. Anyone else you’ve spoken with who might feel this way? Perhaps an ex-lover of Nivea’s? That’s the only thing I can think of, but you’re the professional.”
“In my investigation, I haven’t run across any past lover of your wife.”
“Odd in itself, as she had them.”
Primross shrugged. “They might be dead, too. Or just out of the picture for some reason or another. Your wife has been dead for two years. If a man or a woman was obsessed with her, why wait until now?
Are
you seeing a lady?”
“Yes. That might be the reason, if the person was obsessed,” Laev said.
“If the person was obsessed. But we don’t know that the note was aimed at you or not.” Primross lifted a hand. “People don’t usually threaten FirstFamily Heads of Households. It’s bad for the health. But we’ll take this seriously enough. I’ll contact Guardsman Winterberry, who liaises with the FirstFamilies, and talk to him about the case.”
Laev winced, so much for keeping the investigation quiet.
“Winterberry is a good man, and can be damned closemouthed. I’ll also hire someone to keep watch over your lady when you’re not with her until I’ve returned.”
“A bodyguard?”
“Not exactly, an observer, who would call the guards if there were problems.” After a beat, Primross said, “A bodyguard might irritate your lady, but she might not notice an observer.”
“All right.”
“Would you recognize the printing if I brought you samples?”
“Maybe.”
“Later. I’ll be back in Druida in four days.”
“Later.”
O
ccasionally Laev thought of the note, but another matter preoccupied
his mind. He hadn’t anticipated anything so much in a long time as the dinner at Camellia’s. His favorite meal, but sure to have different spices. The very thought made his mouth water.
He was aware that the Family was watching him closely. They’d have sensed whenever he’d brought Camellia to the estate. But though he was sure they were all raging with curiosity, including the Residence, no one spoke to him about her. Finally they were allowing him to conduct his wooing of Camellia in his own fashion, without meddling.
He’d flexed his GreatLord muscle again. One more time and he thought that everyone might accept that he was in charge. He wondered how his FatherSire had demonstrated to the Residence and the Family that he’d become the GreatLord, but would never know. He and his FatherSire had never spoken of when Huathe Hawthorn had been a young man. Had his FatherSire forgotten that time? Had Laev been too interested in his own concerns to have asked? As he’d often done in the last few months, he wished he’d had more time with his FatherSire. Laev had never quite made it to equal adult status with the older man. Another casualty of his mistake in choosing Nivea.
The thought of his late wife didn’t hurt. Not even a sting, since he was so involved with Camellia. It was as if Nivea was in his far past.
His courtship was more important than any recollection of the remnants of his marriage. And he was wooing Camellia. He knew his emotions were growing too rapidly, he was tempted to move too fast with her.
Brazos and Mica had been more discreet, too. Or perhaps it was their belief that now Laev and Camellia were together, nothing could go wrong.
Laev felt unexpectedly exuberant himself. By the time EveningBell rolled around on the day of the dinner, he was seething with impatience and his stomach was rumbling. He took the bouquet of summer flowers he’d set in a special holder from the glider. No one else in this area had a glider, so it was conspicuous on the street, but he didn’t care.
The flowers were for Camellia’s dining room table. He’d noticed that she was fond of roses, and the brighter, the better.
As he strode up her front sidewalk, the smells coming from her house were more delicious than he’d imagined. Before he knocked, she opened the door and greeted him with a kiss. He liked that she did that in semipublic. The cats squealed and stropped his ankles. Naturally they were where the food was.
Sire Black Pierre is jealous,
Brazos said.
He says not, but he is.
Brazos opened his mouth in a cat laugh.
Chef in T’Hawthorn is old. Like Black Pierre,
Mica said.
He does not do new foods. MY FamWoman does new foods all the time.
Camellia laughed and took Laev’s flowers and turned back to the kitchen. Laev’s mouth watered and it wasn’t just from the food. He hadn’t gotten her to wear only her apron . . . yet. Maybe tonight.
“Every chef has their own recipes they like.” She slid a glance toward Laev. “And usually become complacent or not, depending upon whom they serve.”
He nodded. “Ours knows that as Black Pierre’s FamMan, I wouldn’t cross him, unless he makes an egregious mistake.”
Brazos sniffed, but his stomach made noises, too, so his dignity was impaired.
Mica trotted into the kitchen.
We will have some clucker bits and nice broth from stew made for humans.
“And a few greens for your health,” Camellia said austerely as she arranged the flowers in a large crystal vase.
When she stepped back to admire the bouquet, Laev couldn’t wait and pulled her into his arms, against his body, so he felt her and smelled the fragrance of the cooking herbs that lingered on her skin and in her hair.
“It’s been too long since yesterday morning.”
She blushed and he liked that, then she pushed him away with a stern look. “We’ll eat first.”
“Somehow I don’t think that stew that’s been simmering all day and strawberries that have been marinating will lose too much flavor if we postpone dinner.”
“Then you don’t know much.” She smiled, waved a spoon—was it made of wood? something so antique and odd?—at him. “I just put some leafy vegetables into the stew and the dish should be served just after they wilt.”
“Um-hmm. If you insist.” They had all night.
“I do. Go take your place at the table.”
It was tucked into another corner of her mainspace, close to the kitchen, and round. So there was no head of the table and no foot. Laev sensed that she was satisfied with that. He quashed the small notions drifting into his mind about investing in her business. That would be the last way she’d ever trust a man. With his brain, he understood, but his emotions wanted to be close to her in every way that mattered. And business mattered greatly to both of them.
When could he broach the matter? Impatience was prodding him.
He’d no sooner put a prettily patterned softleaf on his lap when his attention was drawn to the fine shape of her bottom as she ladled stew into bowls for the Fams.
She was wonderful. The thought surfaced that Nivea would never have expended so much effort to please him. Probably not so much to please anyone. And she’d taken any such effort to please
her
as her due.
Nivea had never been interested in having a Fam, taking care of another being.
He could pity her now. The person she’d been.
Camellia turned to him, chin tilted, that look in her eyes that she had when she was checking their bond. What had she felt?
A smile curved her lips and her gaze softened. “I’m experimenting with a new salad glaze on the greens.” Her smile widened. “I’ve been with you often enough to understand which greens you prefer.” She took a bowl from the no-time. It was deep red showing sprigs of his favorite leafy vegetables. When she placed it before him, he saw seeds and a bit of egg, and knew that the salad was just for him. She put down another bowl and sat across the table from him. Her salad wasn’t the same as his.
Personal salads. Why didn’t he have such a thing at home? Because the cook was old and set in his ways? He was still eating the same nutritionally balanced diet he’d had as a child.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded. “We thank the Lady and Lord for blessing us with this good food.”
“We thank the Lady and Lord for blessing us with this good food,” Laev echoed. Then he added, “We thank the Lady and Lord for blessing us with excellent company.”
The FamCats slurped loudly.
He and Camellia laughed and ate their salads.
“So,” he asked, “is this salad nutritionally balanced?”
She chuckled in her throat. “No, but the meal is.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. And I made the strawberries especially for you. Another new recipe.”
He couldn’t stop the words. “Could you keep one recipe private, just for me, and not used in the tearooms?” Then he felt stupid.
“Of course. Which one, the salad glaze, the stew, or the wined strawberries?”
“All are different?”
“I experiment with herbs, spices, and foods a lot.” Her brows dipped as she chewed. “I think this glaze would be better heated.”
The idea would never have occurred to him. She was a wonder. And he wanted exclusivity. He was sure she had no other lover, but that wasn’t enough. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would have more than one lover at a time.
Cooking and business were important to her, and cooking had just become important to him. Which made him recall that he hadn’t shown her his sculpture studio.
Nor had he given her a gift that showed he cared for her, like she was doing now. That lack struck him with the force of a blow.
She looked up. “What?”
He’d stilled. He didn’t want to explain whatever she’d felt through their bond, so he cast his mind back to her question.
“What’s different about the Beltane clucker stew?”
Her eyes gleamed. “It’s not the usual clucker and grain. I used a spring chicken and some Earthan sorrel from my herb garden on
Nuada’s Sword.
” Her expression changed to uncertainty. “I think you will like it.”
“I’m sure I will. I’ve never had anything I didn’t like from you,” he said. She’d been feeding him well whenever he’d come over.
She stood, then, with a bright smile. “Well, shall we try it?”
“You didn’t taste as you cooked?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know it’s good.” Before he could rise to take his salad bowl to the cleanser, she whisked it away from him, put it in the cleanser herself.
Brazos sauntered over to Laev’s chair and burped.
You will like the clucker stew.
Of course he will,
Mica said. Her left ear rotated.
I am going to nap on My big pillow in the mainspace.
Laev petted Brazos as the cat wanted, scratched him under the chin before he turned, waved his tail, and walked to the opposite corner.
That is OUR pillow.
Mine,
Mica said telepathically, but it was soft and sleepy.
Brazos grunted, hopped on the pillow, and curled up next to the calico cat.
A bowl was placed in front of Laev and steam teased his nose. He glanced up at Camellia. She didn’t look anxious, but there was a slight tremble in her fingers that the hot-gloves didn’t quite mask as she brought her own bowl to the table.
She was a professional. She
must
have confidence in her work. He’d seen that when he’d visited her teahouses.