Celta: Heart Choice Part 10

She'd been separated from him for less than a minute, and she missed his touch. His glance reminded her of the kiss they'd shared-something she was sure he intended. Heat spread through her lower body, but she refrained from s.h.i.+fting. Her mind, her will, denied him. Her body wanted more.

T'Ash walked past the lord's wingchair to sit beside his wife on a plush twoseat and asked for tea. Danith and T'Ash ordered tea, Straif and Mitch.e.l.la ordered caff. A moment later a server entered, pus.h.i.+ng a large hover-tray that contained two china pots and several cups. As she studied the design, Mitch.e.l.la smiled. She'd done good work, there, helping T'Ash and Danith devise a pattern for the Family china. It was colorful with delicate touches, something that reflected and pleased them both. Good work.

Smiling, Danith said, "Mitch.e.l.la chose the china, and planned the interiors of this room and the dining room."

Mitch.e.l.la sipped her caff. It was hot and dark and bold. She looked at Straif. "Tomorrow morning I'll bring you holos of my other work, and you tell me what you find acceptable."

The deep bong of the door scry echoed through the room. An instant later the butler hurried into the room, bowed to T'Ash while looking at Straif.

"GreatLord T'Holly is here, wis.h.i.+ng to converse with T'Blackthorn."

"Let him in," T'Ash said. He looked under heavy brows at Straif. "T'Holly and I have a three-generation alliance, but I'll be glad to loan you a private room to talk."

Straif's jaw had set, and his eyes darkened to deep blue. "Trouble." He studied Danith, T'Ash. "We've already spun a thread of honor between us. I needn't be private." He laughed shortly. "I certainly don't want to have such a meeting at T'Blackthorn Residence."

Mitch.e.l.la stood. "I'll leave."

Before she even finished her sentence, Straif leaned forward and bracletted her wrist with his strong fingers, looked up at her. "Stay."

Heat rose to her face. Though he sat and she stood, power radiated from him. "You can't want me knowing your private affairs."

"If T'Holly has left his Residence at this time of night and tracked me down, I have a feeling that my private affairs will not be too very private by the morning."

Reluctantly, Mitch.e.l.la returned to her chair, and when Straif slid his fingers down to hold her hand, she didn't have the heart to withdraw her own fingers. Instead she squeezed his hand and smiled briefly.

He returned her smile, but a worry line formed between his eyes.

T'Holly was ushered into the sitting room. Mitch.e.l.la stiffened. Everyone in this room but her was powerful in status and Flair-even her best friend, Danith, who'd risen to GrandLady status before she'd married T'Ash. And T'Holly was the most powerful man of them all, captain of the FirstFamilies Council.

His glance swept the room. He studied and judged her in seconds, an appreciative smile lightened his face as he bowed.

Danith gestured to Mitch.e.l.la. "T'Holly, my friend Mitch.e.l.la Clover."

Hesitantly, Mitch.e.l.la put out her free hand. He took her fingers and Mitch.e.l.la trembled at his touch. Great Flair, but more, weariness-a darkness hovered over him. This is what a curse would feel like. Everyone knew that he and his HeartMate had broken vows of honor to their son Holm. It showed-in his appearance, his voice, his Flair. Mitch.e.l.la stopped a s.h.i.+ver. Straif's fingers tightened on her other hand.

T'Holly brushed his lips across her hand and let it go. "The Clovers are a byword on Celta." For their fertility. Though she knew he meant it as a compliment, her lips pressed together. "I've heard of your work." Now he scanned the room, examining the furnis.h.i.+ngs and design. His face set into deep lines, and sadness haunted his eyes. "A very pleasing chamber." His smile was lopsided. "Not much like T'Holly Residence."

Danith had told Mitch.e.l.la that no one cared for the way T'Holly Residence was furnished except the GreatLord. It had caused dissension between himself and the rest of his Family.

He glanced to Straif and back to her. "Since you are working with Straif, this involves you, too."

Mitch.e.l.la had always heard the FirstFamilies knew everything as soon as it happened, now she knew it. Or maybe it was just that the gossip ring in the FirstFamilies was as quick and accurate as that of the Clovers.

Everyone tensed. Mitch.e.l.la didn't want to stay, but there was nothing to do but fade back into her chair and hope that she could go unnoticed.

His gaze pinned her to her chair. "What I'm telling you," he stared at each one of them in turn, "is in deepest confidence, not to go beyond this room."

Her mouth dried. She looked for the caff tray. It was out of easy reach.

Face tight, Danith poured Mitch.e.l.la another cup of caff and tea for herself. T'Ash surged from his chair and went to the bottles of liquor on the sideboard.

Potent Flair swirled throughout the room, and Mitch.e.l.la realized T'Holly's words had been a binding spell. From under her lashes, she studied the others. They all appeared highly offended at the rudeness, but no one said anything. They probably sensed something more in T'Holly's Flair.

He sat in the commanding, oversized lord's chair.

Clinking gla.s.s against gla.s.s drew her attention to T'Ash, and she wondered if she'd have to commission more crystal. Perhaps it was too delicate for this sort of use.

T'Ash poured brithe brandy for T'Holly and whiskey for himself and Straif, handed them the drinks, then sat with Danith. Un.o.btrusively, Mitch.e.l.la cradled the cup warming her hands.

"What is it?" asked Straif.

T'Holly looked at T'Ash. "You're allies with T'Blackthorn?" he asked formally.

"Yes," T'Ash said.

Straif's surprise flowed to her. His face showed nothing. She offered her hand, and he took it, sharing his satisfaction.

Drina sat up straight and mewed. Mitch.e.l.la could almost hear her telepathic words. Gloomily she reasoned that if she spent time with that cat, she'd be able to hear her someday. As if Drina's att.i.tude and vocalizations weren't enough.

"Of course you're allies with T'Ash, too," T'Holly said to Drina. He gazed at Danith. "Any word on an available kitten or cat for my HeartMate, D'Holly?"

Danith's spine stiffened, she reached for T'Ash and twined her fingers in his as if for support, then met T'Holly's gaze. "I can't, in good conscience, place a Fam in a Household that is under the shadow of broken vows of honor."

T'Holly's face went completely expressionless. Mitch.e.l.la shrank back into her chair. Straif rubbed his thumb in the palm of her hand. The comfort was incredible-for both of them.

"That is too bad," T'Holly said. He sipped the brandy. When he looked up, his penetrating gaze fixed on Straif.

"The FirstFamilies Council received a notice from AllCla.s.s Council that a claim has been filed by another Blackthorn for the T'Blackthorn estate and Residence. The claimant states you have ignored your duties to your ancestral lands, to the Councils, and to Celta itself in not partic.i.p.ating in GreatRituals."

Mitch.e.l.la caught her breath in sheer surprise. Straif's fingers nearly crushed hers. He opened his mouth, but nothing emerged. His eyes appeared unseeing. Finally he croaked, "There are no other Blackthorns."

T'Holly smiled humorlessly, sipped his brandy, then answered. "The claimant provided genetic testing from a FirstLevel Healer. Not T'Heather, or I would have had the name out of him. Not"-he hesitated-"the former Lark Collinson," the HeartMate of T'Holly's disowned son. "or I'm sure you would have heard from your cuz."

Danith said, "That leaves only T'Heather's heir."

Another ironic smile from T'Holly. "Yes, and she is a very upright woman. I hesitate to pressure her."

"She's a generation younger than you, sir; a generation older than us. I don't think she'd speak to us." Danith looked at T'Ash. "Do you know of her alliances?"

"No," T'Ash said.

"Another Blackthorn," Straif breathed. "Who? How did-he or she-" He shot a glance at T'Holly.

"There are some things I'm not willing to divulge," the older man said. "I am dancing along the edges of my own vow of silence." He grimaced. "I will not break another oath."

"Of course not," Mitch.e.l.la felt compelled to say into the heavy silence. Everyone seemed as stunned as she. T'Holly flashed her a smile that made him look years younger.

Straif cleared his throat. "Another Blackthorn."

T'Holly looked at him from over his brandy snifter. "Not a legitimate Blackthorn. Not born of a HeartMate or in wedlock."

Blankness showed in Straif's expression.

"Straif, your father was married to my sister, HeartMates. Your FatherSire was also HeartBound-but later in life. Before he found his HeartMate he was a man of wild l.u.s.t." T'Holly shrugged. "According to FirstFamily gossip, he sired children, but we thought they'd all died."

After a gulp of whiskey, Straif said, "Apparently not. I would have welcomed another Blackthorn into the Family."

"Too late for that. The challege has been filed. The claimant wants everything. You're adversaries now," T'Holly said.

"We'll stand by you," T'Ash said.

Straif's smile was grim. He nodded. "My thanks." He leaned forward, resolution in every sinew, eyes burning. "Too late. But I'll fight this claimant to my last breath." His eyes narrowed. "I've let my Residence and estate deteriorate, but I wisely invested the T'Blackthorn fortune and it's tripled. That's in my favor." His lip curled. "The only things the FirstFamilies respect more than gilt is Flair. How powerful is this Blackthorn's Flair?"

"The Blackthorn was raised from Commoner to Grace-House Level," T'Holly said.

"Not as powerful as my own, then. Another point in my favor," Straif muttered. "What Flair does the Blackthorn have?"

"I won't answer that. The claimant wishes to remain unidentified. I can give you no clues," T'Holly said.

"Who will be the determining body in this matter?" asked Mitch.e.l.la.

T'Holly said, "The judge of Straif's and the other Blackthorn's claims to determine the true T'Blackthorn will be AllCla.s.s Council."

"Including GraceHouses, GrandHouses and GreatHouses, the FirstFamilies," T'Ash said. Consideration lit everyone's eyes-tallying alliances, Mitch.e.l.la thought. Politics. Interesting to watch, but her heart ached for Straif. He had enough problems.

Straif leaned back and snapped his gla.s.s onto a nearby table. "I can win this. I haven't partic.i.p.ated in many FirstFamily Councils, it's true, but I might have made the minimum six in the last three years. As for GreatRituals," his smile grew sharp, "I was at D'Holly's HealingRitual last summer, and I presided-acted as priest and Lord-for the FirstFamilies Forgiveness Ceremony in the matter of Ruis Elder." Everyone except Mitch.e.l.la winced. Like most of Celta, she'd watched the Forgiveness Ceremony on holoviz. And like most Commoners, she'd enjoyed seeing the FirstFamilies kneel. Danith had been solemn and graceful, T'Ash stoic, T'Holly stern.

"Presiding over such an unique GreatRitual as the Forgiveness Ceremony must count as partic.i.p.ating in at least three GreatRituals. There was much preparation for that Ritual. It was long and very draining in energy and Flair."

T'Holly nodded, sipped his brandy, then, with gaze fixed on Straif, said, "There's something else you need to know. The other Blackthorn doesn't have the Family's flawed gene."

Nine.

"What?" asked Straif, desperately hoping that he'd misheard his uncle T'Holly.

"The Blackthorn who is claiming your estate and fortune is definitely of the Blackthorn Family bloodline, but not the dominant blood. The claimant does not have the flawed gene."

The world s.h.i.+fted, his vision grayed. For a moment, Straif thought of giving everything up-the Residence, the estate, the fortune, all his past. His future with his HeartMate. Thought of letting the bad side of the Family, his side, die out naturally. He would cut all his ties with Druida, wander Celta as he had done before when searching for a cure.

Mitch.e.l.la must have leaned toward him, because he felt the warmth from her body come closer, her fragrance drifted to him. "You have great Flair, greater than this other," she said. "You know all the ancient traditions and Rituals and history of your Family, not this stranger."

"Since I was seventeen, I've looked for a remedy for my situation. It's been my only goal," he whispered.

Drina whined a mew and rose to knead his legs. Small sharp claws digging into his thighs focused his mind. She didn't stop there, but nipped his thumb.

I will NOT give up MY Residence, she projected so loudly that he thought Mitch.e.l.la might have heard, since she drew back. The fine hair on top of Drina's head ruffled his nose, and he found that he'd hunched over, as if from a blow.

T'Blackthorn Residence is Mine!

"Oh, well, in that case . . ." Straif said drily, straightening. The others laughed.

Drina sat, every inch of her small body radiating determination, looking as n.o.ble as any cat could.

Straif imagined losing everything, and it was very different than conceding everything to one who might be better for the Family line. His head raised in pride as blood pumped through him at the threat to his Family. The Family he'd known and loved, not this stranger, living outside the T'Blackthorn gates.

"I won't quit," he grated. "I must work harder at discovering a correction for the deformed gene I carry. If I can do that, the Councils will award T'Blackthorn to me."

Mitch.e.l.la withdrew her hand. When he glanced at her, she turned her head and met his gaze. "What of your Residence?"

"A good question," T'Holly said. "You have chased your cure for years to the detriment of your estate. The Councils can see that-easily, just by viewing your Residence. I rather think that whether you stay in Druida and restore it, and how well you renovate it, will be the primary test of whether you remain T'Blackthorn."

"Go on," Straif said.

T'Holly set aside his snifter and leaned forward. His eyes nearly pinned Straif to his chair. "You are currently in control of the ancestral estate and the Residence. If you leave Druida again, your Residence as it is, I think most people would consider that forfeiting your heritage."

"I would," T'Ash said.

Heat from anger and shame and guilt crawled under his skin. T'Ash would be his harshest judge, for T'Ash had had his Family ripped away, had survived Downwind and rebuilt his Residence, bonded with his HeartMate to rebuild his line. Straif jerked a nod to T'Ash. "Refurbis.h.i.+ng the Residence will be my first order of business, then. I haven't been examined by the Healers here in Druida lately, nor have I requested a formal reading from the Vines. There are avenues in Druida for me to explore in mending my disordered gene."

"It isn't going to be as easy to win as you think, Straif. Get your testimonials in order, your doc.u.ments showing that you didn't totally neglect your duties." T'Holly glanced at Mitch.e.l.la. "Restore the Residence as quickly as possible." He stood and stared down at Straif, expression stern. "I sought you out because I wanted to tell you of this in person. But I also wanted to warn you, the T'Blackthorn Family funds on deposit with T'Reed will be frozen tomorrow until the t.i.tle of T'Blackthorn is awarded again to you-or to the new claimant."

Blood drained from his head, leaving him clammy with cold sweat. He'd been without gilt before, usually in the wilds of Celta where it didn't matter. But he'd always known that he only needed the nearest bank or n.o.bleHouse to replenish his gilt. No more. What would he do?

Drina mewed. Mitch.e.l.la's warm fingers draped over his closed fist. "I'm a middle-cla.s.s woman. I can make the Residence a showplace on a small budget." Since his vision had narrowed, he turned his whole head to see her. Her smile curved in appreciation of a challenge. A kernel of relief budded. She could do it.

"You came last summer at my request to aid me in my feud with T'Hawthorn and stayed at T'Holly Residence, but I paid you no gilt," T'Holly said to Straif.

Anger spiked. "As if I would take gilt for supporting my Family."

One side of T'Holly's mouth quirked. "You are blood of my sister. Your FatherSire, father, and you are all formally allied with my Family. You also came when we needed you to track your cuzes who had disappeared. You took no payment for that, either."

"I don't want payment for that." Straif recalled the accounts he'd studied in the afternoon. "I've done many explorations for the Councils, sent reports, charts, and maps to the Councils for their use. I've earned my annual n.o.blegilt." His glance fell on his hands, scarred in his travels. He told the truth. But any gilt he'd acc.u.mulated sat in the same account as the T'Blackthorn fortune. "I'll contact T'Reed tonight and separate my personal funds from my Family's."

Mitch.e.l.la's and Drina's resolve infused him, but his own feelings were far beyond that. This was war. "I think I should move up the GreatRitual to rehabilitate the Residence from the full twinmoons to the new twinmoons." He shot Mitch.e.l.la a glance. "That's only three days away. I can take care of the Grove of the Dark G.o.ddess and clean out the fountain, but can you help with-say the west terrace for refreshments?"

An instant of panic lit her eyes, then she blinked. "Yes."

Smiling at T'Holly, Straif said, "Please bring as many of T'Holly Household as you wish to the GreatRitual, next new twinmoons." Mitch.e.l.la's fingers twitched, but the more he thought about it, the more he believed it to be good strategy. He could remind everyone of his great Flair, Flair enough to rebuild a home, to direct a GreatRitual.

T'Holly inclined his head, one n.o.ble lord to another. "I have no doubt that you will remain T'Blackthorn. The n.o.ble Council is investigating the claim of the other, the qualifications, the character." T'Holly hesitated, then spoke lowly. "You should know, the other is not only a n.o.ble, but one who takes n.o.ble duties quite seriously, a respected member of the n.o.ble Council."

Straif grunted. He'd already accepted that he'd made a bad mistake in leaving Druida so long to search for something that would make his Family safe again. Now he knew that mistake might very well cost him more than he could afford.