Heart Thief (29 page)

Shade stared at him for a long moment, then turned and disappeared into the tangled brush of the FirstGrove.

Ruis stood in shock, his own words reverberating through his mind. He'd come a long way since the day he'd been led in chains to the Guildhall gaol. Samba had helped him become a new man. The Ship had made him think and develop his own skills and intelligence. Ailim had given him her respect and her body. He now had pride in himself, goals, and a good life. After long last, when his reckless anger was scraped away, he saw he was a mature man.

“I think that the ‘Rule of Three' is what brought about Shade's triad's downfall and your own,” said a calm voice.

He spun to see Ailim D'SilverFir standing in a tree shadow, her arms at her waist, hands concealed in the opposite sleeves.

Twelve

“
Another basic tenet of our culture,” Ailim continued.
“Whatever you do comes back to you tripled.”

A corner of Ruis's mouth twisted. He'd botched the moment with Shade. He didn't have the experience to deal with the youth, but no one else was around to help. Ruis's shoulders tensed at the thought. He crossed to D'SilverFir, standing respectfully outside of the circle. Taking her arm, he led her away from the Grove and toward a summerhouse at the far corner of the estate. Her eyes lingered on the spot where Shade had disappeared, then she gazed up at him and smiled.

He felt a hot pulse in his heart.

“I admire what you are doing for that youngster,” she said.

Ruis bent closer to hear her, but her eyes and smile distracted him from her words. Her lips were a tentative curve and her blue-gray eyes looked huge. She glanced away and blinked rapidly and he could think again.

“You don't know what I'm doing for—the young man.”

“No?” Now her eyes slid his way as they ambled down a path once the width of a glider. Bushes encroached until it was just broad enough for the two of them. “I can guess that he's an ex-gang member, I saw the sheen of glisten in his mouth. I doubt he is welcome at one of T'Ash's Downwind Youth Centers, so he must be a very rough case.”

“As I am.”

She made a sound of exasperation and stopped to angle her head up at him. Now flame touched the depths of her gaze. “No, you are not. You've been more transgressed against than have transgressed yourself.”

“Ha. I've stolen.” His throat dried at the admission. Once again words slipped from his tongue that could ruin everything, this time with Ailim. His gut tightened. He knew their liaison would end, probably before the first snow, but not now. Please, Lady and Lord, not now.

They'd reached the summerhouse, a pavilion built of sturdy, beautiful reddwood. Dirt smudged the steps and ledges of the open arches. Ruis suspected grime would coat the benches inside.

Ailim frowned, studying the building. Ruis thought his heart would fail if she didn't comment on his confession soon.

“This looks familiar,” she said.

“It's a copy of Summer Pavilion in Landing Park; they're much the same age,” he said. He grasped her shoulders and swung her toward him, scowling. “I said I've stolen.”

“I'd imagine you'd have to,” she replied. “We'll talk about it in a bit. Go away a little so I can clean this place.”

Muttering to himself, Ruis strode away to find the last of the flowers for another bouquet. She always appreciated his gifts so. He looked at the sky, a deep clear blue that bespoke a fine day. No wind cut the air. To his ears came a faint phrase or two of halting speech. He strained to hear. A few more words drifted to him and he stilled. As the twinmoons were rising, on the other side of the grove, Shade was once again engaged in a Ritual. Ruis closed his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't erred too much with the teenager.

A clap of air and a whoosh stirring fallen leaves into a small whirlwind drowned out Shade's low chant.

“Ruis,” Ailim called.

He bowed and explained his need to the BalmHeal bush, then snapped off a branchlet that held three blossoms and hurried back to Ailim. She was inside the clean pavilion, leaning against an upright, looking pale. Her hands were clasped in her lap.

“You're doing too much.” He thrust the flowers at her. She sniffed and color tinged her cheeks. “How much energy and Flair are you expending daily? How much sleep are you getting?”

She stared at him and chuckled. Heat crept up his neck. Their loving the night before had made sleeping time short. Again she buried her nose in the blossoms. When she took them from her face, she still smiled.

Ruis sat next to her. “There's something you don't know about me.”

Ailim huffed a breath and shook her head. “There are many things I don't know about you.”

He nerved himself again. “I stole.”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you stealing now?”

“No. But I didn't just steal for food.” He stood, went to one of the octagonal corners and pressed a hidden latch. When the bench cupboard opened, he pulled out a metal cylinder with nodes and buttons. He crossed and gave it to her. She turned it over in her hands, then looked up at him.

“What is it?”

He sat, reached across her and pushed a button. The little machine whirred and peeped in her hands, then lifted from them and flew around the pavilion, avoiding the walls.

“It works without Flair!”

“It's an ancient Earth device. I find old Earth machines and fix them. I used to steal to buy parts or make them. Sometimes I stole jewels because our ancestors used them in their tools.”

“Oh,” she said, focused on the little toy drifting with the air current. It blinked bright blue numbers. “What does it mean?”

He glanced at it and the numbers changed. “It's a weatherstation. It shows the temperature, barometric pressure, humidity, wind speed, and elemental composition of the atmosphere. We can read the sunrise and set, the season.” He didn't take his gaze from her face. Her absorbed expression held curiosity, probing observation. She returned her stare to him.

“No one else on Celta cares about these old things. They don't save them, they don't study them. They don't value them!” Ruis said.

She wet her lips. “True. Who would want something so odd and intricate and strange when your personal infodeck could tell you with a simple inbuilt spell?”

Ruis croaked laughter.

Ailim watched the machine whir through the summerhouse. “But you are right. The past must always be preserved. There is a very, very old saying: Those that forget the past are doomed to repeat it.' ”

“And that applies to little Earth machines?” he mocked, as he had so often been mocked. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The bright numbers stopped and the little device shot through the air to smack into his palm. Ruis rubbed his thumb over the irregularly molded surface, as he had long ago, and felt a similar comfort.

Ailim touched a finger to it, drew back. “It's warm.”

He grinned. “Yes, energy generates heat.”

She tilted her head and looked straight at him. “All knowledge is important and should be cherished; that includes the history of our kind, their machines, the first crude spells. We have museums of the first magical tools, but I don't recall—”

“No. We don't have very many of our ancient artifacts.” He studied the weatherstation. “I restored this. It's also supposed to detail the time of moonrise and set, but Earth only had one moon. I was trying to alter it, but couldn't—then. Hmmmm. Perhaps now.”

Ailim put her hand over his. “You value the past, but not your past.”

“My past can't be changed.”

“I think—”

Ruis cut the air with his hand. “Tell me about your aunt Menzie's amulet.”

Ailim's lips thinned, but she pressed her hand against his. “You've been helping that boy and now will help me. And I will help you. D'Birch's accusation of theft against you has already been proven false. I'll clear all the charges against you.”

Ruis snorted. “I was in the square that day. When I saw the Birch emeralds, I thought they'd be a good foci for a lazer. I jostled D'Birch and picked up the necklace when it fell. The emeralds weren't right. Before I could return them, I was caught. I put the necklace in her gown yesterday.”

Ailim took her hand from his and rubbed her temples. “Why do you make this so complex?” She sighed. “Because you are a Null, the situation itself is complex. So what else did you steal?”

“The only other things were T'Ash's HeartGift. . . .”

Ailim winced.

Ruis shrugged again. “Some items that might have helped me with my quest, some gems to help me survive. I always returned the unique. Before I met you, restoring Earth machines was my sole passion. The only thing that kept me sane or made me happy.” He grasped her hand and lifted her fingers to his mouth, kissing them with all the tenderness he was capable of, keeping his eyes on hers. “Anything else I stole was to survive or buy parts, like I said.”

Her gaze softened. She believed him! Relief loosened the tightness in his chest.

“Oh, Ruis,” she said. “Your banishment will be hard to revoke, but I vow—”

He put his palm over her lips. “No. We've had this conversation and the discussion is ended. Nothing you can do can clear my name. I don't want you going against Bucus. You can't win.” Her mouth frowned under his hand. “Bucus is corrupt and ruthless. You can't fight fair with him and win, and I know
you
won't fight dirty.” She scowled, nipped at his palm. He dropped his hand and gripped her shoulders again. “Tell me you won't pursue this.”

She pursed her lips.

He gave her a little shake.

“I will reconsider my opinion.” She lifted her chin and folded her hands in her lap, sounding like a judge.

“Let's talk about the theft of an amulet.”

Her hair had fallen from her be-spelled braids at Ruis's touch, she swept her hand through the strands and closed her fingers around silver and gold pins, then put in a sleeve pocket. “It's not precisely a theft . . .”

“No?” He grinned.

“Tell me your plan,” he muttered, and turned her to massage her tense shoulders.

“I thought you'd come after midnight, we'd go to Menzie's rooms, I'd dismiss the housespells on her door, and you'd take care of those she's added herself. Then we'd go inside and take the amulet.”

“Do you have any idea where she keeps it? What if she sleeps with it on?”

“She's been drinking a medicinal potion every night—due to the bane of the amulet. I have a new beverage from a Healer that includes a sleeping draft.”

“A drink rather than a sleep spell, which I'd nullify. All right, I'll be in your rooms tonight after midnight.”

Her muscles were now warm and loose, while his were hot and tight. He slipped his hands from her back around to cup her breasts. “Let's talk about now.”

“Let's don't talk.” She leaned back against him and looked up. “You are so very special.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Quite unique, in fact.”

Her palms reached to stroke his face. “Don't mock yourself. It's a testament to your spirit that you've survived so well.”

“I'm outcast and banished.” He turned her and took her mouth.

Ailim sighed as her nipples hardened under his hands. Her lips moved under his, nibbling at his own, her tongue flicked across his mouth, then inside as if she yearned to taste him.

Hot blood pooled in his groin. The position was awkward, so he set her aside, got to his feet. “Stay there,” he said between ragged breaths. Flipping open a bench-top, he pulled out cushions and woven throws. He eyed the narrow window seats and dropped the makeshift bedding onto the floor.

Ailim laughed. She'd risen and stood backlit by an arch. Her amusement died on her parted lips and her hands froze on the tabs of her gown as she saw his yearning passion.

He couldn't take his gaze from her, the lady in elegant dress, blonde hair loose, blue eyes gentle, cheeks rosy with incipient desire. She stunned him. Who she was, how kindly she treated him. Intelligence shone in her gaze, but so did respect. “I need you,” he said. He strode to her. When he curved his hands around her shoulders, she stiffened. He liked that her spine had straightened and lifted her breasts.

“Let me,” he said thickly. He ran his thumbs under the tabs across her shoulders and separated them, then pulled the top of her dress down, smoothed it over her curving hips and let it fall in ripples at her feet. The sight of her body in a thin shift over a white undergarment that covered her from the top of her breasts to the crease of her thighs strained his control.