Heart Choice (16 page)

“Let's go to T'Blackthorn's. I can keep an eye on him so he doesn't hurt you.”

She was flabbergasted. “Hurt me!”

Antenn's mouth set. “He wants you on a bedsponge.”

A flush started around her breasts and slipped up her skin. The room was dim, and Mitchella hoped Antenn wouldn't notice. “That doesn't mean we'll end up lovers. I can be completely professional.”

“Yes, but like Aunt Pratty says, he's a FirstFamily Lord, and they've had centuries of getting what they want.”

“Circumstances have changed with T'Blackthorn.” Mitchella wondered how public his situation would become, and when. “There's another claimant to his title.”

Eyes gleaming, Antenn said, “Really? Zow, that's interesting. T'Blackthorn screwed up, didn't he? We'd be in the middle of that? High politics.”

Antenn was reviving too quickly. “I believe so,” she said.

He straightened, setting Pinky back on his lap. “Living there, in a FirstFamily Residence, will really impress the Cang Zhus.” The Cang Zhus were the architectural Family Antenn apprenticed with three days a week.

Mitchella caught the edge in his voice. “Have the Cang Zhus been a problem? I thought SupremeJudge Ailim Elder's staff checked on them and you. If you have concerns, tell me. I'll speak with them, and Elder, too.”

Antenn hunched a shoulder. “They're not too bad. Just snobs, and I won't find better architects to apprentice with. Seems like a long time before I'll be a Master, though.”

Mitchella patted his knee. “Time goes faster than you think.”

Antenn snorted, then smiled. “But GrandLord Cang Zhu
will
envy me if we live at T'Blackthorn's. The CZs are strong in Flair, but their Family wasn't founded until three generations after Landing. I hear that often enough. The Mosses—”

“Your family is as Common as dirt, like the Clovers,” Mitchella said.

“Yeah, but the Clovers have the honor of being the most prolific Family on Celta. So you have status. People envy you. Even FirstFamilies.”

“There is that,” Mitchella said evenly.

Lifting Pinky gently, Antenn stood and began to pace. After one short back-and-forth he nodded. “Yeah, I think we should move in with T'Blackthorn.”

“Hmm,” Mitchella said. “You're sensitive to homes like I am, and you have more Flair. You might be able to learn to speak to the Residence.”

His eyes lit, and he skipped. “Really? Really! Zow.”

“In fact,” Mitchella rose and shook out her full trous and overtunic, “you can help me.” She searched his face. “T'Blackthorn has trouble with some of his Family rooms. If I gave you the Heir'sSuite, you might—no, that won't work.”

“Why not? Live in T'Blackthorn's old rooms? Zow! I can help redesign them for a modern boy.”

She raised her eyebrows. “There is no Oracle or Seer yet to say the heir will be a boy.”

Antenn rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Well, I can help make it good for a girl, too.”

She grinned. “Exactly, but we have a problem. The heir's playroom belongs to Drina.”

Antenn frowned. “Drina?”

“T'Blackthorn's Fam, a cat.”

Cuddling Pinky close, Antenn asked, “What kind of Fam?”

“A half-Siamese, snotty Fam.”

“Is she bigger than Pinky?”

“A little, but she's prissy, and not nearly as muscular.”

“Then she won't bother us. We can live at T'Blackthorns and make a bunch of gilt and fame and even help,” he ended.

Mitchella figured Drina would be a pain, but let the topic go. She gnawed her lower lip. “I'll put you in T'Blackthorn's sister's old suite. Give the rooms a different resonance with your energy, and T'Blackthorn new memories of the place.”

“A
girl's
room?”

“I believe she was a very active girl, and it's a suite.”

Antenn scratched Pinky's head, the cat's whiskers twitched. Antenn nodded, standing taller. “If that's what I can do to help, it will be good.” He grinned.

Mitchella smiled back. She might get a suite, too. The guest suite. Being from Families as Common as dirt, they'd never had suites of their own.

Beyond the door, the level of noise rose—disturbed people talking loudly. Mitchella gave Antenn a hard one-armed hug, Pinky one long stroke. “We'd better go back in.”

“Yes, we've made our decision, and it's a good one.” Antenn nodded again.

Setting her shoulders, Mitchella said, “It sounds as if they are discussing the fire.” At the recollection of her loss, tears hovered in her throat. She sniffed, swallowed, then opened the door and walked through it, back to the elegant sitting room and the others.

Eleven

Winterberry, the guardsman, had arrived. He eyed
everyone in the Noble Sitting room of Primary Healing Hall, then said, “Yes, the fire was started by a delayed firebombspell.”

Blood drained from Mitchella. How could that be? “A firebombspell? I don't have any enemies.”

“Firebombspell!” T'Ash's tones were vicious. His lip curled, making him appear infinitely dangerous. She'd seen that look directed at her, once, so she shuddered and stepped back.

Back into Straif's solid, supporting form. He was bigger than she, taller, wider, very comforting despite his own tension. She liked the comfort of him too much, so stepped forward.

His hands curved over her shoulders.

Winterberry raised both his hands toward T'Ash and said, “Calm. You frighten the ladies.” Though he spoke in the plural, he stared at Trif who leaned against her mother, face averted. Antenn went to sit with Pratty and Trif.

Danith moved to her husband and pulled his arms around her.

Mitchella envied her easiness with her man. Envied her HeartMate status.

“Mitchella wouldn't know anyone who has the Flair or malice to set such a spell, especially since a delayed-action spell demands so much Flair,” Straif said.

She was learning more about firebombspells than she ever wanted to know. She shook her head in disbelief. “The only one I know who has such Flair is T'Ash.” When that man's eyes glittered, she rushed on, “He wouldn't
ever
have done such a thing since his home and Family were destroyed by the first ever firebombspell.” What was she saying? Getting deeper and deeper in trouble. Good thing she'd decided not to stay with Danith.

Straif's calm voice came from behind her. “Winterberry, could you tell when the spell was set to detonate?”

Winterberry dipped his head at Straif. “I think the spell was cast sometime in the late afternoon, perhaps WorkEnd bell.”

“I was consulting with T'Ash and D'Ash at that time,” Straif said.

Mitchella said, “I was visiting shops on Gentian Row. Antenn was at grove-study with the Clover children. We have no enemies.”

Frowning, Winterberry turned. When he faced her, Mitchella felt the cool pressure of his Flair fluttering against her like a breeze. Straif stepped from behind her to move in front of her.

The guardsman said, “There was only a slight trace of Flair on the firebombspell, but no one in this room matches that aura.”

Mitchella walked from the shield of Straif's body in time to see Winterberry's face go expressionless. “You are all weary. I'll contact you later for more in-depth interviews.” He bowed in the direction of Aunt Pratty and headed for the door.

“One moment.” Straif curved his palm around Mitchella's shoulder again. “Mitchella and Antenn may be staying with me.”

“No!” Aunt Pratty said, flushing when they stared at her.

Straif went to her and sat on his heels, meeting her eyes. “It's Mitchella's and Antenn's decision, but I can protect them. If anyone
is
after Mitchella, she wouldn't want to put the rest of her Family in danger, as she would if she lived in the Clover Compound. I promise you, she will be safe with me.”

Pratty seemed mesmerized by Straif. Trif shifted against her mother, revealing a bright and avid eye and a half smile. The girl's curiosity had been piqued, and she was forgetting her trauma. All to the good, but Mitchella felt a sinking sensation that she and T'Blackthorn would be the subject of great discussion and wild rumor among the Clovers.

Though Antenn glared at Straif, Antenn nodded. He still wanted to stay at T'Blackthorn Residence. His thin shoulders braced, and pride welled in her. He was such a strong person already, he'd grow into a excellent man. “Antenn and I have decided to accept T'Blackthorn's offer.”

Aunt Pratty's expression was troubled. “Are you sure?”

Not at all, but Straif had spoken truly of her main reasons. Further, she still needed the job to save her business and didn't want to lost Straif as a client. Mitchella nodded. “Yes, I'm sure of our decision.”

“I promise I will protect them,” Straif said again.

“‘Say it three and the word will be,'” T'Ash said dryly.

Straif stood. “Then I'll repeat it a third time, I will protect Mitchella and Antenn. Winterberry, you can find them at my Residence for interviews.”

“Very good. I will examine the house ruins once more. May you all bide well.” With a last sweeping gaze, he left.

Aunt Pratty stood and said, “It's time we left you Nobles to your sche—plans.” She kept her arm around Trif. Nodding with great dignity, she finished, “Good night to you all.”

Danith hugged them. “Well done, Trif and Pratty. I called T'Ash's driver and glider to take you home. He's outside waiting. Blessed be.”

Pratty's face softened. “Blessed be, Danith.” Pratty shot a look at Mitchella, then Antenn. “Your family loves you. You'll always be welcome at home.”

“Thanks,” Antenn whispered, hiding his face.

A rush of tears stung Mitchella's eyes. She went to Pratty and brushed her lips across her face. “We know, Aunt Pratty. I love you. You, too, Trif. I'm so sorry this happened.”

Trif kissed Mitchella. “I'm sorry your house is gone. But we're fine, and that's what matters.” Her voice was rough from smoke.

Hugging Trif tight, Mitchella managed a weak smile. “Yes. You and Antenn safe is all that matters. Blessings.”

Pratty and Trif moved slowly to the door, then out of it.

The realization that she'd lost everything struck Mitchella like a blow. Her sketchbooks. All her pretty clothes. All the furniture she'd spent septhours refinishing. She tottered to the couch, putting an arm around Antenn. She
would not
weep in front of the men.

Danith hurried to sit beside her. “You'll be fine.”

“I know.” Mitchella forced words around a lump in her throat, tried another smile; it was even weaker. “I didn't lose everything. I have some old things at the Clover Compound. So does Antenn.” She'd only lost everything she'd made and purchased as an adult. Her childhood belongings were at the compound—most of the things she'd passed on to others. She cleared her throat. “I have plenty of time to find another place, and the family will furnish it for me.” With secondhands or defects from their furniture factory. “And I have a good job, with room and board, such as it is.” She looked for Straif and found him studying her with dark eyes.

“We still should have the new twinmoons Ritual in three days,” he said.

“Of course,” Mitchella croaked.

The door opened, and Drina walked in, tail high.
You left Me. I had to come here all by Myself. All alone.
She sniffed.

“Lady and Lord,” Mitchella muttered, and wondered how she could make the Residence look decent in three days.

 
 
Straif woke the next morning, instantly alert. Staring at
the molded and gilded ceiling of the purple parlor, he wished he was still wrapped up in sleep. Contrary to all fears, he'd slept long and dreamlessly. Now that he was awake, all his troubles slithered back into his brain.

His jaw clenched with determination. He'd fight, and fight hard for his estate. Perhaps he
had
run away at seventeen, hadn't done right by his Residence or lands, but he was home now and by the Cave of the Dark Goddess, he'd set his home in order. He'd show the upstart claimant that Straif Blackthorn could not be beaten. He already had the best designer in Druida on-site and ready to help. The Residence would soon be beautiful again.

He'd faithfully attend all the upcoming FirstFamily and Noble Rituals; he grimaced at that thought, but duty was duty. If he was lucky, he'd even find a cure for his faulty gene. Time to have a Healer examine him again. He should also consult the premiere prophet of Celta, young Vinni T'Vine.