Celta: Heart Choice Part 13

"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.

Mitch.e.l.la envied her easiness with her man. Envied her HeartMate status.

"Mitch.e.l.la 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.

Mitch.e.l.la 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, Mitch.e.l.la 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."

Mitch.e.l.la 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 Mitch.e.l.la's shoulder again. "Mitch.e.l.la 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 Mitch.e.l.la's and Antenn's decision, but I can protect them. If anyone is after Mitch.e.l.la, 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 Mitch.e.l.la 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. Mitch.e.l.la 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 Mitch.e.l.la 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 n.o.bles 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 Mitch.e.l.la, then Antenn. "Your family loves you. You'll always be welcome at home."

"Thanks," Antenn whispered, hiding his face.

A rush of tears stung Mitch.e.l.la'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 Mitch.e.l.la. "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, Mitch.e.l.la 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 Mitch.e.l.la 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." Mitch.e.l.la 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 pa.s.sed 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," Mitch.e.l.la 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," Mitch.e.l.la 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 G.o.ddess, 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 n.o.ble 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.

With luck and Mitch.e.l.la's aid, he could groom the Grove of the Dark G.o.ddess for a GreatRitual. He'd never fashioned a GreatRitual, but the Family annals must detail some. He'd brave the ResidenceDen and read them. His lip curled. He had no time to be sensitive about the Residence or his memories. Avoiding the pain of certain rooms was a luxury he could no longer afford.

"Say it three and the spell will be," T'Ash had said. Whispering, Straif vowed, "I will fight for and hold my estate," and repeated it two more times. When the final word faded, a potent mantle of power enveloped him, from the T'Blackthorn land itself, strengthening him.

Mitch.e.l.la and Antenn had rooms on the second floor, Mitch.e.l.la in the guest suite, Antenn in Straif's sister's room. That idea had bothered him just about as long as the glider ride from Primary Healing Hall to the Residence.

A smile tugged at Straif's lips. At least one aspect of his life proceeded well. He had the woman he wanted under his roof.

Drina pushed open the door and stalked in. You did not tell Me that that little, miserable tomCat was staying here, in My Residence.

"You are much superior to him," Straif soothed. "Consider living with him in peace a challenge."

Lashing her tail, Drina stared at him with narrowed blue eyes. Would she be convinced?

She sniffed.

Probably not.

I will make sure he knows who is Fam and who is only a Cat. The Residence is Mine.

"Right." He foresaw cat fights and frowned.

She yowled in his face. He jumped from his bedroll. The Cat and his human boy are in My kitchen, eating My food!

"We can't have that. Where is Mitch.e.l.la?"

Drina sniffed. She is there, too. She tried to feed Me, but you are My FamMan.

He sighed. He'd have been happy to delegate fulfilling Drina's every whim to Mitch.e.l.la. "I thought you liked Mitch.e.l.la." Straif dressed.

I like her, but do not want her here except to fix the Residence.

"She and Antenn and Pinky will be staying until the project is done."

Drina whipped her tail. Then you must work fast.

"Working fast isn't as important as doing good work, and I'll need your help readying the Grove of the Dark G.o.ddess for a GreatRitual."

"Ggrrrrrr." Dirty paws work.

"Right. But as my Fam, I expect you to help. You didn't think you'd do nothing for that blue diamond collar, did you?"

Drina cast a big-eyed gaze at him. I still get the blue diamond collar?

"That should wait until I am reconfirmed as T'Blackthorn."

She whined.

"Or do you plan on deserting me?"

We had a probation period, she said.

"That was my request, I never heard you agree."

I am your Fam.

"You might want to consider the new claimant."

Drina said, The land and the Residence support you.

"How do you know?"

The Residence says so. It says the other Blackthorn was here.

"What!" But it made sense that the other had visited, even entered the Residence. A sour taste coated Straif's mouth, but he was thinking hard. He could walk the estate, looking for his distant relative's tracks, discover who the other claimant was.

The thought of the many tasks he must accomplish gave some satisfaction. He was settling into his new life. He'd review his personal accounts to ensure he could afford the renovations-and hoped he didn't have to trade many favors with other Lords and Ladies. He'd continue on his quest-in Druida-for a fix for his defective gene by consulting the great Healer, GrandLord T'Heather. Straif would set an appointment with the new GreatLord T'Vine-the prophet with the greatest Flair.

Without another word to Drina, he headed for the kitchen.

Mitch.e.l.la wasn't there. The only sign of her was a sheaf of papyrus. A glance at them froze him. All were inscribed with the Blackthorn coat of arms. As he reached for them, he knew that he'd face more memories every day. Probably a good thing. The time for running had long pa.s.sed. Escape from guilt and pain and loneliness was acceptable in a seventeen-year-old boy, not in a thirty-two-year-old man.

He sat at a table and flipped through the papyrus, scrutinizing Mitch.e.l.la's plans for renovating the kitchen. A couple of the sheets had finger-imprints. When he touched them, holomodels sprang into being. His suspicions of the day before were right. The Flair appliances were far out of date. At the end were two budgets-one t.i.tled "Good" and one t.i.tled "No Expense Spared." Straif winced. He could no longer restore the Residence in the manner he'd antic.i.p.ated-or was that true?

He crossed the room, took the scrybowl from a shelf, and carried it to the table. "Scry T'Reed," he said.

A moment pa.s.sed. "Here," said T'Reed as the scrybowl showed his old, wrinkled face.

"Greetyou, T'Reed," Straif said.

The man hesitated. "Straif," he said, in an informality that Straif had never heard from him. "I trust you received my updated accounting in your collection box."

Straif smiled coolly. "Probably. I'm sure you were meticulous in separating my personal funds from the T'Blackthorn gilt." He paused to adjust his att.i.tude. He wanted this man as an ally. "I a.s.sure you that since I have known you all my life I will of course leave all Blackthorn funds with your financial establishment." That should get the man thinking of what another claimant might do-where the other Blackthorn might bank.

T'Reed blinked, then frowned. "Of course the FirstFamilies tend to do business with each other. We prefer our affairs in the hands of those greatly Flaired." He paused. The other Blackthorn wasn't as Flaired as Straif.

"I'd like to ask your advice. Do you think the Councils might allow me to use the T'Blackthorn fortune to restore the Residence? After all, the Residence is an extremely valuable a.s.set to the Family, and it does need some renovation."

T'Reed looked thoughtful. "You would have to keep detailed and accurate accounts."

"Of course." Mitch.e.l.la must always do so.

The older GreatLord mulled over the problem. Straif knew T'Reed's younger son belonged to the n.o.ble Council. As did the new claimant. Perhaps the other Blackthorn already banked with T'Reed. Would that one have tried to influence the FirstFamily Lords and Ladies by doing business with them?

Finally, T'Reed said, "The Councils might allow you to use T'Blackthorn gilt for the refurbishment of the Residence." His gaze sharpened. "I'm sure they would put a limit on spending."

Straif nodded. "Reasonable." He didn't want to be reasonable in restoring the Residence. He wanted it to be perfect. If he had to, he'd use his own gilt.

"I'll speak to members of the Councils, their decision may take a couple of days." T'Reed made a note on a piece of papyrus in front of him. "Straif . . ."

"Yes?"

T'Reed leaned forward. "I am acquainted with the claimant. I'll tell you that-the claimant-is genuinely concerned about how you let the estate deteriorate and ignored your duties. H-the claimant's sincerity is not in question. This is not a frivolous claim by a fortune hunter."