Heart Legacy

by Robin D. Owens

  One deep breath, harder to keep steady than any she’d taken all day, far from the calm ones she’d drawn during the meditation. Such energy now, buzzing through her!

  She daren’t go into the Residence in such a state. Over the centuries, that entity would have become exceedingly familiar with human sexual arousal and sex acts.

  Biting her lower lip, she accepted the small pain and let it ground her in the here and now and not in imaginings of Draeg Hedgenettle, what he’d done to her and she to him and what they might do next—

  Stop!

  Another breath, considering her options. She stealthily crept away from the door and any viz or audio sensors the Residence had there and to the kitchen garden, yet bare. Tiptoeing to the center of the rectangle, she positioned her feet and once more connected with the land of the estate. Beneath her she felt the earth of Celta and in the garden, the faint stirring of seeds, ready to unfurl when the dirt warmed to sprout and thrust upward to the sun—and freedom.

  As she wanted freedom, and the light of the sun shining on her and warming her at a different home where she could truly be Lori Valerian.

  Draeg Hedgenettle would be a great distraction—even at his name her heart pumped harder, her thoughts misted, and she heated and sent more energy into the land until her knees wavered. Then she walked with slumped shoulders, hunched back, and her thoughts on restoring boats, to the door and into the Residence, dragged herself up to her rooms, undressed, and fell into bed.

  * * *

  Draeg didn’t leave the grove but sat right down again on the cold, cold ground. Time to master himself—his raging arousal and his intense desire for a deep connection with Loridana Itha D’Yew. Steady his breathing, steady his body, and this unseasonable desire would dissipate. He hadn’t been done with his meditation, so he’d practice more, and stay until the chill vanquished the heat enveloping him from the inside out, recapture the meditation experience.

  Finally he rose, not quite stiff. A remnant of passion coursed through his blood, but also a sense of completeness, of calmness, within his being. The solid results of the meditation.

  As he headed back to the path to the stables, he heard an echo of D’Yew’s sleepy voice. Good night, Baccat!

  The Fam replied. Good night, FamWoman.

  More relaxed and integrated than he’d been in a long time, Draeg walked through the night, appreciating the ungroomed nature of this part of the estate: the tall trees silhouetted darkly against the starbright sky, buds beginning to show, the twiggy hedges, a tiny whiff of an upcoming green spring.

  This quietude in his emotions enveloped him, balm on the restlessness that had haunted him for years. The recent memory of the benefit of sitting and letting his mind go blank, experiencing and embracing the current moment, flowed through him, and the last of his arousal faded. All this thanks to the help and serene presence of D’Yew.

  She had reminded him of a practice he’d neglected, and in doing so had harmed himself because he hadn’t had the calm reserves to call on when he’d needed them. Not three years ago, and not earlier that evening.

  He’d disrobed and taken a waterfall, pulled back the bedsponge linens, when his perscry—his personal scry pebble—sounded in the quick blazer hum Draeg had programmed for Tinne Holly.

  Now he grabbed a long tunic and pulled it on, stroking his thumb on the scry pebble and saying, “Here.”

  The holographic image showed the head and shoulders of Tinne, who seemed to have extra lines in his face compared to the last time Draeg had seen him.

  “Greetyou, Draeg.”

  “Greetyou, Tinne. News?”

  “Yes, and of the worst sort.”

  Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Draeg said, “Murder?”

  “Attempted, and did include death.” Tinne rubbed his temples with forefinger and thumb.

  “Who?” demanded Draeg.

  “A workman in the new GuildHall.” Tinne’s mouth twisted. “It appears that he brought in a celtaroon snake to let loose. Probably bespelled to find and bite a particular person. But celtaroons are notoriously stupid and difficult to control. The guy got bitten himself.”

  “Good luck for our side,” Draeg said.

  “Yes.”

  “Target?” asked Draeg asked.

  “The man was scheduled to be working on the office of the new Captain of AllCouncils.”

  “Walker Clover,” Draeg said harshly, “a former Commoner raised to Noble.”

  “Walker Clover.” Tinne matched Draeg’s tone. A few seconds’ hesitation on Tinne’s part when the lines in his face deepened, then he added. “As usual, Walker had brought a couple of his children with him today and would probably have done so tomorrow.”

  “Cave of the Dark Goddess. Still after the kids?”

  Tinne rolled his shoulders as if shifting a burden. “Who knows? Getting rid of Walker would be . . . a great blow on behalf of the Traditionalist Stance.”

  Draeg followed his logic. “Because Walker is the first born Commoner to rise so high politically on his own merits.”

  “That is correct. And the Traditionalist Stance doesn’t want any more Commoners to be ennobled, despite the strength and potency of their Flair.”

  “Yeah. What went on?” Draeg asked.

  “Zanth and Felonherb FamCats happened to be in the GuildHall.” The ends of Tinne’s lips curved upward. “They sensed prey, found and tore the celtaroon snake to pieces. Apparently they considered destroying the thing a competition.”

  Draeg considered that. “Just as well.”

  Tinne snorted. “I suppose, though if there was any spell evidence on the creature, it was demolished. Neither our chief investigator in this matter, Garrett Primross, nor the Clover head of security, nor the Captain of the Druida City Guards has been able to determine anything from the shreds of the celtaroon.”

  “FamCats who ‘help’ can be a pain in the ass.”

  “Also correct,” said Tinne, who had one of his own.

  “So the workman got killed himself. Can’t say I’m too surprised. Staging ‘accidents’ is problematic. When did all this happen?”

  “At the change of shifts in the GuildHall from day to evening, WorkEnd Bell. A lot of people coming and going.”

  “I understand,” Draeg said. As far as he knew, all the Yews had been at one of their formal dinners. Tired of standing, he went over to the bedsponge and settled in against two hard, thick pillows that no longer puffed out dust when he leaned against them. “What about the dead guy? Do we have any info about him?”

  “He is a known member of the Traditionalist Stance, a minor relative of the Equisetum Family in the north who had their estate confiscated two years ago when their previous crimes were uncovered.”

  Draeg grunted, frowned, and shifted his gaze to the beamed ceiling instead of Tinne’s expression that seemed to age before his eyes.

  “What about the Yews?” Tinne asked.

  Draeg raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure that you and the others realized that when I hired on as a stableman I would be living near the stables. I am, three rooms over the stables. I am not allowed in the Residence. However, I saw no glider leave the estate tonight.”

  “They must be embroiled in this. I think those of the Traditionalist Stance care about mixing Noble and Commoner blood. And I think the Traditionalist Stance has fanatics, like this workman today who targeted Walker Clover or his children.”

  “You’re sure the workman was involved.”

  “He was found in an empty room with a celtaroon snake. A hole in the wall had been drilled for the beastie to be placed, for it to nest. Signs in his workbox showed he’d stashed a celtaroon in it and brought it in.”

  Draeg kept his voice even and stared Tinne in his cold pewter eyes. “I can and will assure you that the current D’Yew is not involved in hurting your woman or any other target.”

  Eight

  You’re sure D’Yew isn’t involved in any of the accidents or with the bloody Tr
aditionalist Stance fanatics,” Tinne Holly snapped, holographic gaze on Draeg blazer intense.

  Draeg shot back, “All of D’Yew’s energies are going into her Household—”

  Tinne’s mouth twisted. “And that doesn’t clue you in that something is twisted in that Family, that they should demand such and drain her so?”

  “—and in loving and caring for her animals. Her stridebeasts, new horses, and FamCat.”

  “She has a Fam?”

  “That’s right, one called Baccat.”

  Tinne grunted. “Fams usually don’t hang around people who aren’t loving to them.” But his face set again. “Doesn’t mean the rest of the Yews aren’t up to something.” Finally he hesitated, then said, “And I’m sure that the Yews are deep in the Traditionalist Stance.”

  Draeg said, “I need the button you found under the balcony that broke.”

  “The button is our only evidence that the Yews might be involved!” the man protested.

  “The Druida City Guards don’t think it’s evidence. Translocate the button to me and I’ll ask D’Yew about it, casually.”

  “You’re sure she’s not part of this?”

  “She’s more naive than your daughter Aurea, and I haven’t seen any buttons on her at all.”

  “All right. Give me the cache coordinates for your apartment.”

  Draeg did and a moment later, he heard a ping. He opened the box and plucked out the button engraved with a Yew sprig. He’d recalled it correctly.

  “What do you feel?” Tinne Holly asked as Draeg closed his fingers over the object.

  “You, I feel your vibrations.” Draeg smiled. “Sense Holly Family.”

  “Great. Later.” The scry bowl went dark.

  * * *

  Lori woke up and stretched luxuriously, then glanced at the wall timer. She’d awoken early and had a full septhour before she needed to be in the study with the Residence. How she loved the earlier sunrises, the days stretching ever longer, getting ever warmer.

  She felt so good! And then she recalled the dreams in the night that had trailed from that passionate kiss she’d shared with Draeg Hedgenettle. He’d really kissed her! And his fingers squeezed her rump. And put his hand on her left breast! She could still feel the tingles.

  She’d felt them in her dreams, too. An imaginary lover’s gentle hands on her body that had stroked her to core tightening increments and ecstasy. That had never happened before. Before her sexy dreams had fallen far short of the sense of hard hands on her body. She chuckled to herself.

  “You are awake and in a good mood,” the Residence stated.

  “Thank you for the horses, Residence,” she enthused.

  “You are welcome.”

  Yes, part of her cheer this morning was having horses, no doubt. But she didn’t hide from herself that much of her new delight was meeting and interacting with Draeg Hedgenettle.

  And, she’d discovered her primary Flair! What a wonderful day yesterday had been, only diminished by the standard Family tussles.

  But today was a brand-new day. She bounded from her bedsponge, waved a hand to tidy the covers in the precise way the housekeeper insisted upon, and headed into the waterfall room.

  Rrrowww, came a purring voice in her mind, and she sensed her Fam yawning, stretching, and sharpening his claws on the inside planks of the small garden shed she’d fixed up for him. You are up, FamWoman? I am HUNGRY.

  As always, she sent. I will be down in good time.

  It takes you, on an average, eighteen minutes before you arrive in Our garden with My food. You do not teleport.

  You are aware of eighteen minutes?

  I am unique and special. I can count passing minutes with a twitch of my whiskers, he boasted.

  You know I have rules to follow. I must groom and dress appropriately before I leave my room.

  Rrow! This time he sent irritation. I do not consider those rules to be efficient or cost effective in terms of energy or Flair, particularly with regard to Me. They are stupid rules. When We have Our own house WE will make the rules.

  Yes, she said mentally, though she kept her amusement to herself, sure that Baccat thought he’d impose his notion of rules on her, which wasn’t going to happen.

  You could translocate My food to Me, he said slyly.

  She put hurt in her voice. You don’t want to see me?

  Of course I do, but I want My food, first.

  The Residence likes to keep track of the food in the no-time storage units and has locked them down, which means I have to take portions out by hand. You know this.

  But it’s MY food. You let them boss you around!

  Like you’re trying to? If you want food now, go to the stables, Draeg should be up. The whole conversation began to rub away her good mood. I’ve tried fighting, she replied tersely. Several times in my life. It doesn’t work. The Family outnumbers me and the Residence can lock doors and windows against me or gas me with sleep powder.

  Baccat growled. It is definitely time to leave this backward estate.

  I agree. I’m done with my waterfall and dressing, and I will be out there shortly with your food.

  That’s very good to hear. Thank you, FamWoman. I love you.

  I love you, too.

  She pulled a weathershield around her as she left the house with ground furrabeast steak for Baccat. To her dismay, a hard frost had returned to edge the twigs of the bushes with rime.

  Still not warm enough to leave. Not if the stridebeasts, and now the more delicate horses, had to spend the nights outside on the trail for weeks until she arrived at her very own estate, set aside for her father’s child or children upon his marriage to D’Yew.

  One of his memory spheres that Lori had found and hidden from destruction had described the property, and Lori knew it would suit her needs perfectly. Or, rather, she’d determined she’d suit it.

  At twelve, when she’d begun studying with the Residence and the maître de maison, who stewarded the Yew properties and investments and bank assets, she’d seen the condition had been noted as “acceptable.” Since then, she’d managed to allocate a bit more gilt toward the upkeep. She knew the house contained five bedrooms and the land parcel was equally large. To the Yews the estate seemed tiny and barely adequate for a Noble lifestyle. For her, perfect.

  She walked through two kitchen gardens and took a right before she entered the small herb garden that she’d claimed for herself and Baccat, so insignificant that no one else disputed her wish. The old, silvered, once-warped door to the shed creaked open and Baccat stuck his head out, then greeted her with a cat smile and rolling purr.

  She set his pottery plate with steaming furrabeast on the stool chin-high to him that he preferred to eat from. While he munched, she went into the tiny shed, as warm as all the rooms in the Residence, and got a rake to move around the wind-disturbed mulch to protect plants . . . plants she wouldn’t see in full bloom. But since the time when Baccat had moved from the stables closer to the Residence, she’d tended the garden with an eye that it would be healthy and hardy without human aid.

  Baccat belched. We must speak seriously a moment. He eyed a spot on the gray garden wall where the sun had melted away the frost and warmed the stone. Then he jumped atop it to stare down at her and gave a tiny cough. We must talk about how the Yews are perceived outside this estate.

  “Oh?”

  Neither Cuspid Yew nor Folia Yew, who are joint regents for you as an unconfirmed FirstFamily Head of Household, have participated in the required rituals for FirstFamilies in GreatCircle Temple.

  Lori blinked. “I didn’t know there were required rituals.” Was there any way she could leverage that knowledge to wrest control from the older Yews? She pondered a moment, but didn’t think so. As far as she was concerned, she’d explored all other viable options than leaving and was ready to hit the road.

  If she brought outsiders in on a Family struggle, she’d never be forgiven by all the rest of the Yews—about forty—wh
o worked on the estate. And as she didn’t think she’d respect a person who went outside the Family for help, she didn’t believe others would respect her.

  Also, those outsiders so much more sophisticated than she could take advantage of her and leave the Family worse off. It was all too possible that the elder Yews, the ones in control now and who’d been in control since her mother had died, and whose power was backed by the Residence, would claim Lori was mad or too stupid to handle the Family.

  The simple fact was that she didn’t dare lose such an important fight—as she’d always lost fights—with her Family. She had a deep suspicion that she wouldn’t be treated well for years, and her animals might pay the price of a lost battle.

  Meanwhile her Fam had lain down on the wall, paws tucked under him, and stared at her with a superior look. Are you finished pondering?

  “I was considering whether this changed our circumstances. I don’t think so. We’re still leaving. They’ll forget us after we’re gone.”

  I agree. His paws came out as he kneaded the wall, and the brick crumbled a bit. Lori frowned and sent a little Flair to reinforce it. Baccat sniffed. I like dust from a FirstFamily estate on My paws.

  She sensed that it gave him some sort of status—that other beings, other Fams, could sense the age of the brick or the resonance of the energy that imbued the estate. She said mentally, You are not allowed to harm OUR estate. Not our current estate nor OUR new one.

  He grumbled, looked away. This dust helps and it is not a significant amount. The harm to your wall was infinitesimal. I like being a FirstFamily FamCat. I like being YOUR FamCat and others knowing that.

  We will discuss how to show you are a Fam of status later.

  His eyes narrowed. Tonight. When we go out. There is something I wish to show you. A tradition between FamPeople and their non-thumbed companions.

  As usual, the notion of being in the big city—the forbidden and the new—drew her. A tradition? Very well. Her brows drew down as a thought occurred. What about your new personal armor? Other Fams would not have that.