“Residence, open the gates, please,” Mitchella said.
As little as you can,
Drina sniffed.
Let that Stachys man squeeze.
He was the largest of the three.
As the spitting rain increased, Drina shot across the yard to the Residence and inside. The others hurried after the cat, casting glances at the estate and the Residence. Mitchella ensured that the gates were locked before following.
When she reached the library, the reps had chosen to sit in a conversational grouping of several chairs around a table near the huge fireplace that held a crackling fire.
Stachys curled his lip at the comfortably shabby room. “Disgraceful.”
“It looks just as it did the last time I was here with the late T'Blackthorn,” T'Reed said. “Well done, GentleLady Clover.”
“I like the room,” GentleLady Kudzu said.
Mitchella dipped her head, “Thank you.”
At that moment the door swung open and the cook entered with a tray of beverages and pastries. “The Residence informed me of your tastes.” He set the tray on the table and departed quickly. The delegation dug into the food while Mitchella went to a small desk where she scanned the papyrus.
“I have been charged as an accessory in the ruin of this estate.” Fury turned her vision red.
Twenty-seven
Mitchella jumped to her feet, uncaring that the desk
chair toppled to the floor. All the work she'd done on the estateâthe aches of her body, the pummeling of her mind to make it warm and welcoming and a
home
again, was being condemned.
She could barely see to stalk over to the delegates.
Straining to keep her temper, she 'ported all her models and notes to stack at her feet. Energy was no problem, rage fueled her Flair.
With a snap of her fingers, she showed a holomodel of the estate as she'd found it, then the progression of the workâa record she always kept.
After that holo faded, she projected models of the chambers she'd finished room by room. This cycle took long enough for her to calm a bit. When it ended, she had her temper under firm control and her hands didn't shake as she poured a cup of hot cocoa. “What is it about these rooms we've refinished and the Residence itself that you find âruined'?”
“These are only the things you've shown us, not our own tour,” Stachys said.
Mitchella glanced at T'Reed. “T'Blackthorn's reported to you every day. What in those reports made you doubt so you had to visit?”
“Nothing. The FirstFamily Council was overruled,” T'Reed replied stiffly.
“This is only a preliminary walk-through,” GentleLady Kudzu said.
That had no effect on Mitchella. “I don't see you defending my work. I see a FirstFamily GreatLord who says nothing about the accusations against me, and a GraceLord representing the Noble and Guild Councils who still doubts my word despite everything I've shown you.” With a sweeping gesture she indicated the pile of documents, flexistrips, holos of her work.
“You three have forced this issue, but
I'm
not a FirstFamilies Lord or Lady.
I'm
a Commoner, and it's my understanding that a member of the Noble Council is smearing my reputation, casting doubt on my skills as a designer. Since I am of lower rank, I have the right to know my accuser, see him, put questions to him.”
T'Reed looked at her with respect, Stachys with discomfort, and GentleLady Kudzu nodded decisively. “She's right.”
“Who filed these papers?”
“We should go,” Stachys said.
T'Reed said, “From what I've seen and experienced, I believe the accusations are incorrect. The estate walls, gates, and glideway are in top order. The library provided shelter and comfort. The kitchen is capable of delivering excellent food on a moment's notice. These are not the signs of a ruined FirstFamily Residence.”
“I've seen and heard plenty. These papyrus should be discounted as being proven false,” GentleLady Kudzu said.
“That's not acceptable,” Mitchella said. “My reputation is at stake, as well as T'Blackthorn's. This mess has just grown. I suggest to
all
the Councils that they make a determination on the T'Blackthorn claims in the next few days, or I assure you, I will file charges against the Councils themselves for acting hastily and falsely and harming my livelihood.
“I know of the accusations against T'Blackthorn, and they are wrong, too. No one can prove that the estate is in ruins.”
“It's disgustingâ” Stachys said.
“âIt
was
neglected. But I've been studying FirstFamily Residencesâand I've worked with houses and homes all my professional lifeâand nothing about this Residence is in ruin.
By your own laws
â
Council laws
âa HouseHeart must be gone, the Residence must not be sentient, that is not the case here. Residence, what say you?”
“I support T'Blackthorn,” boomed the Residence. “He is a good FirstFamily GrandLord.”
Mitchella said, “Furthermore, Straif
has
done his duty. He has officiated or participated in an acceptable number of Rituals. This case has dragged on long enough, especially since it's been shrouded in secrecy to T'Blackthorn. But you can't hide my accuser from meânot if he's higher rank. End it, Councilfolk. You have listened to a false claimant.”
Pale, Stachys shot to his feet. “I only want to claim what I have a right to. The T'Blackthorn's estate. I am of the blood, and the current man has let the Residence fall into ruin, neglected the estate and his responsibilities to society.”
Mitchella's knees went weak at the revelation. She leaned against the sofa. Her wits scrabbled, but she managed to reply, “Untrue. You were waiting for one more season to pass before pressing your claim, but when Straif came back you had to move quickly and hope you could prove that he'd missed too many GreatRituals. You erred.”
Stachys's fingers bunched. “You've just proven that he's seduced you. Since he is a FirstFamilies GrandLord and supposedly an honorable nobleman, it is easy for everyone to close their eyes to his long and many faults. Because honorable
Nobles
don't run away from their duties, don't let their homes fall into ruin. But this one did. And has done so again. For centuries the twenty-five FirstFamiles of Celta have always held GreatRituals to direct energy in bettering our people, but they have also grown arrogant. How long will the
twenty-four
FirstFamiles let the present T'Blackthorn ignore the responsibilities that were his since birth? I contend that this T'Blackthorn isn't honorable, but dishonorableâand cowardly, too!”
“Is that so?” Straif said from the doorway, looking every centimeter a dangerous outlaw, not a noble FirstFamily GrandLord.
Everyone turned to scrutinize him, but his stare focused on Stachys, and Straif prowled into the room. Even Mitchella saw his aura pulsate with fury.
“Did you just call me a dishonorable coward?” Straif asked softly.
Stachys paled, but drew himself up. Now that the two men were together, there was the hint of a family resemblance. “Yes,” he whispered, “I did.”
Straif nodded. “Do you care to retract your words?”
Stachys glanced around the room. T'Reed and GentleLady Kudzu sat frozen in their chairs. No question that Straif dominated the scene. Stachys could not back down and save his claim. He coughed. “No, I don't retract my words.” His voice cracked, but he plowed on. “I meant what I said.”
Silence seethed through the room.
Straif narrowed his eyes, examining Stachys. “Right. I can't allow such insult to pass, not in my own home, not even from a distant cuz.” He stripped off a heavily worn celtaroon glove and dropped it at Stachys's feet. “My seconds will contact you. Expect a visit from Tinne Holly.” He stared at T'Reed. “Teleport theseâpeopleâout of here.”
“I don't like 'porting,” GentleLady Kudzu said. “I'm leaving on my own two feet.” But she lingered near the door to watch the scene.
Stachys swayed. T'Reed steadied him.
Straif raised Mitchella's fingers to his lips and bowed over them. Energy sizzled to her core. Then he tucked her hand into his elbow. “GentleLady Clover, I found your ward hardy and healthy and have returned Antenn to your Family. He is at the Clover Compound.”
“Thank you, GrandLord. My heart is eased at the knowledge.” She wanted to throw herself in his arms and rain kisses over his face, question him in detail about Antenn, but the situation prevented it.
He glanced at the three. “Again, you remind those of the Councils of my usefulness in retrieving lost ones,” he said. “And pray that the great Flair I have for tracking doesn't die with me.”
That should certainly give his detractors pause, even when they thought of him pursuing his quest. But it only reminded Mitchella that, HeartMate or not, he would never HeartBond with her. She didn't know if she could bear the pain. Though the project of restoring the Residence was almost done, she had Antenn back. She might be able to squeeze a few more days and nights with Straif into her life before they both moved on. After all, she'd never made love to him as a HeartMate.
“Blessings upon you,” T'Reed said. He set an arm around Stachys, and they disappeared. GentleLady Kudzu slipped away.
Mitchella's mind spun with dizziness, with Straif's familiar scent mixing with the odor of burning logs.
“I'm sorry you had to endure that,” Straif waved at the papyrus still on the small desk. “I 'ported as soon as I realized something was wrongâI was at your Family's place.”
She grabbed at him. Found herself trembling in his arms, holding back sobs.
“Shhhhh.” He patted her back. “It's all right. We are all back safe and sound.”
“Antenn is all right?”
“Not a scratch on him. Though you might find him more mature than he was when he left. We came to an understanding.”
“You're all right.” Her hands measured the strength of his back, stroked his sides, went to his butt.
He choked. “Antenn's on his way by glider. He'll be here in a few minutes, but I want you in my bed, now. We'll 'port. Hold on tight.”
She wanted nothing more to be able to do that forever. When they came together, she ravished him. And when they shared the waterfall, she touched him with tenderness. Earlier she'd thought she'd never made love to him as if he were a beloved HeartMate, linked with her. But she'd been wrong. She'd loved him like that since their first kiss.
Hand-in-hand they walked to the front door together, but in the entry hall, the Residence announced, “An incoming message from
Nuada's Sword
for you, T'Blackthorn, it starts âGood News'.”
Mitchella's stomach clutched. She twisted her fingers from Straif and pasted on a calm smile. “Sounds like you might finally have succeeded in your quest.” She brushed her lips against his cheek. “Go check on the message, I need to meet Antenn.”
“Mitchellaâ”
She didn't turn back, just waved a hand and walked forward. When she got outside the Residence, she raced to the gates, wanting the pumping of blood in her head to drown out thought.
Antenn arrived in a hired glider. The rain had stopped, the clouds had blown away, leaving the bright sunlight of a perfect spring day. The warmth of the sun on her face, sinking into her clothes, steadied her. She inhaled, held her breath, and when she exhaled, she sent the negative emotions that had lodged in herâanxiety, fear, despair, angerâaway with her breath.
Antenn hadn't fully emerged from the vehicle when she scooped him up in a tight hug, tears running down her face again.
“The Clovers have already set my punishments for running away!” he announced, but clutched at her, too.
She was glad her family had dealt with the disobedience, because she'd be too hard on him for the worry he'd put her through, or too soft because he was back and safe. She set him on his feet and knew that she'd never pick him up like a boy again, he
had
matured.
Sniffling, she patted his shoulder. “Welcome home, child of my heart.”
“If I'm the child of your heart, why didn't you adopt me!” he cried, then turned his face, but not before Mitchella saw his own tears.
She was stunned. She'd never known he wanted that. Never known, until now, how much
she
wanted that legal connection between them. Had she been punishing herself for not being fertile?
She pressed some softleaves into Antenn's hand, waited until he discreetly wiped his face, then walked with him up the gliderway. “It's too late to go to the GuildHall today, but first thing tomorrow we'll go to the Clerk of the Councils and start the adoption process.”