Heart Search (42 page)
Then they were there and her good chair cradled her and she scrabbled for the books. Doing the books would keep her from feeling, would keep her mind going and not thinking. She hoped.
“What happened?” Aquilaria demanded again.
“HeartMate breakage.” Lemongrass sighed. Camellia knew him well enough to know he was shaking his head. “Don’t know if she or Laev sundered the relationship.”
“She did.” Aquilaria was definite, her voice holding an edge of scorn that almost cut through the rest of Camellia’s pain. Then her manager was there, shaking her, and Camellia flopped like a raggedy doll. “Stop this. Go after him.”
“Ouch,” Lemongrass said and Camellia didn’t know whether it was in response to the shake or Aquilaria’s tone. He continued, “Man’s got pride. That boy has pride. No man has more pride than a Hawthorn. And that boy’s already been savaged by one woman. Won’t be easy to get him back.”
Another shade to the painful gloom descending through Camellia. “I’m going to do the books now,” Camellia said thinly. She blinked and blinked again; the office came into painful focus. “Keep me occupied.”
“All right.” Aquilaria huffed an exasperated breath. “Shall I get the books from Darjeeling’s HouseHeart?”
“Please,” Camellia said.
Aquilaria clumped to the corner teleportation pad and vanished with a deliberate pop.
Camellia pulled out the recording sphere that held the figures for the teahouse and attached a link to a special writestick that would enter data into the sphere. With a husky spell couplet, the file for the last two eightdays opened.
Citrus scent wrapped around her and she felt the brush of a kiss disturb the hair at her temple. “I’ll go get that gift—not a HeartGift since I could see it—that the boy gave you, send it to your house cache. Take care. We’ll move our schedule back to before NoonBell. Keep the schedule. It’ll help.” Lemongrass vanished, too.
She lost herself in figures. Sometimes she drowned in them, having to fight her way back to find sense in them. When she was done, her hand was cramped and she sagged in the chair. Eventually the recording sphere blinked off.
Then Tiana and Glyssa came into the office and whisked her away, and she rambled and wept and slept with them and Mica close all night. None of that was a comfort.
Laev went straight to the Green Knight’s shooting range. With a
surfeit of rage and pain, he had the energy to translocate his pistols. He spent hours practicing, until he “killed” all the stationary targets, then all the simulacra one-on-one, one-on-two, one-on-three. The Hollys didn’t run to four simulacra. Maybe he should donate one.
surfeit of rage and pain, he had the energy to translocate his pistols. He spent hours practicing, until he “killed” all the stationary targets, then all the simulacra one-on-one, one-on-two, one-on-three. The Hollys didn’t run to four simulacra. Maybe he should donate one.
Holm Holly dragged him back to the main salon and the melee. Cratag was there, and others that didn’t often come, so a grand fight was on. That helped.
Finally Laev teleported directly to the HouseHeart, let Brazos in, who hissed and stomped and railed against females.
Laev wasn’t too proud to drink a soothing potion from the HouseHeart no-time. It distanced his emotions and let pain trickle in slowly, as he was able to deal with it. Laev thought that he was becoming an expert at surviving a long bitterness. His marriage with Nivea, his grief at his FatherSire’s death, now this. He had much in his life to be grateful for. None of his past mistakes had been fatal, or so dire that he’d been unable to recover from them.
Tomorrow was another day, and he’d make sure he didn’t see Camellia.
Twenty-eight
E
arly the next morning, Camellia walked back and forth on the
sidewalk outside the stoop of the Green Knight, not quite sure what she was doing here. It wasn’t open yet and usually didn’t have people waiting to enter. Like all Holly properties, it was canny in defense. The stairs were steepish and the stoop itself could hold one big man, which meant the door could be defended by one man.
arly the next morning, Camellia walked back and forth on the
sidewalk outside the stoop of the Green Knight, not quite sure what she was doing here. It wasn’t open yet and usually didn’t have people waiting to enter. Like all Holly properties, it was canny in defense. The stairs were steepish and the stoop itself could hold one big man, which meant the door could be defended by one man.
To her horror, she saw a small figure materialize on the porch. Little Cal Marigold, age four. She jumped up the stairs to take his hand, hopefully to keep him safe from walking into the street or teleporting anywhere else.
He looked up at her and offered a sweet smile. “Do you want in?”
That might be the safest place for him until she could scry someone. “Uh, yeah.”
He put his palm on the door and said a few words and the shields dropped. Camellia didn’t know how those particular shields worked, by aura-lifeforce or spellwords or a combination of both, but decided she’d better mention the situation to the Hollys.
She opened the door, felt a ruffling as if Laev was in there . . . even if he was, she couldn’t leave now, not with Cal. Letting a quiet breath out, she made sure the boy was in—and kept a solid grip on his fingers—closed the door, and physically locked it.
Spell-lights were on. “I think someone’s here,” she said.
Cal nodded solemnly. “Oh, yes. Dey are all here talking about me. Neutwal gwound for Papa and Laev.” He smiled deeply and she noticed he had two killer dimples. “Not Hawthown or Holly Wesidences.”
He’d mentioned the Hawthorn family first, did he now consider himself more Hawthorn than the epitome of Holly-ness, Tab Holly? The questions buzzed in her mind, scarily unaskable and unanswerable.
“It was fun living in dis place, above de salon, but now I live in de most beautiful house on Celta.” Another smile.
“Uh-huh.” She’d never been to D’Marigold’s Residence but had seen holos.
Cal was tugging on her hand and she took small steps to match his and they went through the atrium—she noted that the empty teleportation pad showed it was in use. To prevent Cal from teleporting to it? She didn’t know. But the feeling of impending doom seemed to rush toward her, then the swinging doors opened and Vinni T’Vine, the prophet, stepped out from the main gym.
“Greetyou, Cal. Ah, GraceMistrys Darjeeling, good to see you.” He looked at her hand holding Cal’s and seemed relieved. A smile flashed across his face as he bowed to her. But when he straightened, she felt his fearsome attention focused on her.
“I don’t meddle much in others’ affairs without asking . . .”
“Dat’s not twue,” Cal said loudly, clearly.
Vinni winced and glanced over his shoulder.
“And I tink if people are talking about me, I should be dere.”
“I was speaking to GraceMistrys Darjeeling, Cal, of
her
life. Mind your manners.”
her
life. Mind your manners.”
“Sowwy, Vinni. Sowwy, Camellia.” Cal squeezed her fingers, then went on, “
Her
life?” Now Cal, too, was completely concentrating on her.
Her
life?” Now Cal, too, was completely concentrating on her.
Camellia stiffened her spine. “I don’t—” Her words and mouth dried as she met Vinni’s eyes that held a great sadness. Her heart thumped hard.
“I did promise Laev that I wouldn’t interfere more in his life some years ago,” Vinni said softly.
“Dat’s twue, I heard it,” Cal said.
“But I wish to tell you to be careful, and that I am sorry you chose the path you did.”
Oh. Yeah.
That
was helpful. Camellia dropped Cal’s hand and the boy marched past them, pushing hard at one of the doors.
That
was helpful. Camellia dropped Cal’s hand and the boy marched past them, pushing hard at one of the doors.
She managed to swallow, nod. “Thank you, GreatLord T’Vine. I hear you.”
“Yes, you heard and you listened.” Another quick smile. “It might be enough. Thank you for the courtesy.” He pivoted, stretched out an arm, and shoved the door open, holding it for her after Cal bulleted through. So, of course, she couldn’t do what she really wanted to do and run.
She entered to see all the Hollys, Cratag, and Laev, and T’Ash, engaged in a melee.
“Huh,” Cal said.
“Not everything is about you, young Cal.” This time Vinni’s smile was without shadow and he winked at Camellia.
Cal walked onto the floor. The room quieted. Obviously everyone had heard that the boy was the reincarnation of Tab Holly. The child set his hands on his hips, looked at the Holly men. Before he could say anything, Vinni T’Vine swooped down on him, picked him up, and whirled him around. Cal laughed.
In the still silent room, Vinni said, “Didn’t we agree that it was wrong to mix lives?”
Cal looked at him solemnly. “Maybe dere’s a weason I wemember.”
“Maybe,” Vinni said, but handed the boy over to Cratag, who’d strode up.
“The Cherry theater is advertising a role for a child in their new play. What say you and your mother and I go down there and see how you’ll do?”
“Weally? Weally!” Now Cal was all child, wriggling in his father’s arms. “Yes! Let’s ’port
now
.”
now
.”
“I can’t teleport,” said his father.
“I will—” Cal started.
“No. The glider awaits and we will drive home. But we can take a fast, luxury airship in a septhour. Your mother mentioned that auditions run today and tomorrow.”
Cal began chattering excitedly.
Vinni T’Vine nodded at Cratag. “Well done.”
Cratag nodded back, nodded toward the other men. “Had help.” Then carried his son from the room.
She looked at Laev, who had retreated from the cluster of fighters and was across the room, dressed in the black leathers he used to shoot in.
For the first time since she’d met him again, Laev looked tough . . . and mean. He was wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with an expensive white softleaf.
And she knew why she’d been compelled to come to the Green Knight. Deep within, where their bond lurked, she’d known he was here.
Now she knew that she had to follow her heart. She had hurt him, and that was wrong. She would be brave now, and vulnerable. That was right.
So she strode over to him, saw the haughty mask of a GreatLord descend upon him . . . not only his face, but his whole manner stiffened.
After one huge breath and putting some stiffening of her own in her knees, she said, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was wrong and fearful and I apologize.”
He flicked a hand as if wanting her to go away. His gaze burnt into her own. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “With everything I have. I want to get back together.”
“No.” He pivoted.
“I love you,” she said, and his shoulders tensed and she knew it was too little, too late. Nivea had probably told him she loved him. He wouldn’t know that this was the first time Camellia had ever said the words to any man other than her brother.
Oh, she hurt! As much as he must have. She pushed that away— she’d been in the wrong, was still in the wrong. Both she and Nivea had abused his feelings and she loathed that she was in the same category as the woman.
She turned and Vinni T’Vine was there, looking sympathetic. “What do you think I should do?”
He stilled, surprised. “You’re actually asking me?”
“Yes.” She wouldn’t have second thoughts.
“People don’t usually do that outside of formal consultations. Thanks.” He studied her thoughtfully, glanced at Laev disappearing into the men’s room. “Fight.”
Camellia blinked. “Fight?”
“Everything you do today, fight. Don’t give up.”
She took a step in Laev’s direction but couldn’t face him again.
“Leaving him for now is also good. I didn’t mean him, now,” Vinni said.
“All right, you’re confusing me.”
Vinni shrugged a shoulder. “He’s your HeartMate, he’ll come around. Eventually. Just as you did.”
She and Laev had been doing a back-and-forth dance. She let a breath sift out. He
would
be back, or she would say the hard but lovely words to him again. In a while. A couple of months, maybe.
would
be back, or she would say the hard but lovely words to him again. In a while. A couple of months, maybe.
She turned aside, noted that all the men seemed to be studiously avoiding looking at her. Fine. Nodding to Vinni, she said, “See you later.”
“I hope so. Remember, fight.”
And that just terrified her, so she stuck their conversation into the back of her mind and teleported away.
I
t was one of those days when everything went wrong—in both of her
teahouses—and kept her scrying back and forth, with the occasional teleportation.
t was one of those days when everything went wrong—in both of her
teahouses—and kept her scrying back and forth, with the occasional teleportation.
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