Heart Dance

by Robin D. Owens

  Now she understood how much and how often she’d hurt him, and her tears mixed with the clean flow of the waterfall. She ached. He ached. And it was all her fault. She’d been cowardlyand clumsy, as clumsy as she’d always sensed she would be. Self-fulfilling prophecy.

  She’d no doubt be clumsy in the future.

  But she wouldn’t be cowardly. She set a spell to dry her as she chose her clothes. Her very best daywear. A gold damask tunic she’d embroidered herself with the bright blue stylized cloud-like symbols that meant “time” to the Thymes around the long sleeves and the hem and side slits. She dressed in very full blue trous embroidered in gold that gathered at the ankles and the waist. The latest, expensive fashion. Saille deserved the best. She slid the red pouch containing his HeartGift into the long pocket of her left sleeve.

  She, too, had made a HeartGift during her third Passage— the fugues that freed Flair—three and a half months ago. She’d wrapped it, put it in a drawstring bag and spellshielded it.

  She had accepted his HeartGift. Would he accept hers?

  Going over to the closet, she found the corner where she’d placed her HeartGift and drew out the soft rectangular package. His thimble HeartGift had been the perfect fit. She didn’t know how that happened, but she figured that what she’d made would fit him, too.

  “Fairyfoot?” she called.

  The FamCat trotted in. I am here, to accompany you to Our new home.

  “Only if he accepts us.”

  How could he not want Me? Fairyfoot actually winked at Dufleur, and she laughed some of her nerves away. She put on her formal cloak and fastened the silver clasp, again a stylized cloud, whispered a small weathershield. She was teleporting, but she was also acceding to Saille’s wishes in being prepared for winter otherwise.

  After checking to make sure the T’Willow Residence teleportationpad was empty, she visualized the corner of the sitting room—Saille’s mother’s—Arbusca’s—favorite public sitting room. Dufleur was surprised how easily the image came to her, as if she would always know how the light would slant on a winterafternoon.

  She scooped up Fairyfoot. “Ready?”

  Ready.

  A slight whoosh later, and they were in the soft and pretty rose chintz room. Arbusca put a hand to her bosom, looking startled.

  Dufleur clutched Fairyfoot. Saille’s mother. Courage. “I am Saille’s HeartMate,” she said baldly.

  Arbusca’s round motherly face relaxed into a smile. “I know, dear.”

  “Of course you do.” Dufleur put Fairyfoot down gently onto her paws, taking the time to suck in a good breath, straightened, and met Arbusca’s gaze. “I’ve made a wretched mess of this whole HeartMate business.”

  Saille’s mother looked sympathetic. "HeartMate courting is more often difficult than not.”

  “Arbusca, I want you. These footmen are clumsy. We won’t keep them here in the Residence. Come transnow.” The former D’Willow sent the clipped order echoing through the Residence,using the house’s Flair.

  “She’s here, that horrible woman is back!” Saille’s mother snarled.

  Dufleur stared. She’d judged Arbusca to be calm, gentle, easygoing.

  “I suppose you think I shouldn’t say that about my mother.” Arbusca straightened.

  “She is horrible,” Dufleur agreed.

  Cruel and nasty and horrible,” Fairyfoot said.

  Arbusca let out a breath, squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, and rubbed her temples. “Nothing but complaints and demands,but that’s not the worst. And she radiates malice. I swear she whips you with negativity as well as her sarcasm. She abused my son to me, and I listened.” Arbusca shook her head. “I don’t know how I lived with her for all these years. And I becameaccustomed to the energy and happiness in the Residence without her. I don’t know how I can possibly live with her again. It’s like trying to wear garments you’ve outgrown. She sorely tries my temper.” Her hands fisted.

  Impulsively, Dufleur reached out and took Arbusca’s fists. “You must know I was the one to revive her. You must hate me for it.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I know Saille can handle her. You don’t doubt him, do you?”

  “Of course not!” That was said with more fervor.

  Dufleur searched her face. “Tell me what I can do. SomethingI can do to make this easier on all of you. My ally, SupremeJudgeElder, is considering legal options, but those can take time. Is there anything I can do here?”

  Arbusca began to shake her head, then a considering look came to her eyes. “We know she kept memorysphere journals. But we haven’t been able to find them. She would have gloated over her misdeeds in them.”

  We can do this, Fairyfoot said.

  Thinking that the old woman might also have put down others’ misdeeds, like T’Yew’s, Dufleur was determined to help. “I can find them, fix it so she won’t have power over any of you again.” Dufleur shifted, met Arbusca’s gaze steadily. “But later. Right now I want to see Saille and . . . tell him I love him,” she ended in a whisper.

  “He’s in the front great room.” Arbusca shook her head. “He’s learned a great deal of patience, my son.”

  “I know. It can be irritating.”

  Arbusca smiled briefly, then sobered. “He gave my mother an ultimatum and is waiting for her to come and pledge her loyalty.” Her fingers twisted in her long tunic. “He might have to wait more than one day.”

  “Then he will. He won’t be intimidated by her. Won’t let your Family suffer under her anymore. He can handle her.”

  “Yes.” Arbusca huffed out a breath. “Yes, he can. Now if only the rest of us learn how to do so.”

  “I won’t let him intimidate me, either,” Dufleur said.

  “But love must come first,” Arbusca said. “Thank you for coming to him.”

  “I have made a mistake, now I have to fix it,” Dufleur repeatedand crossed to the door, opening it.

  Fairyfoot purred loudly. He loves Us. She twitched her whiskersat Arbusca. All of Us.

  “Yes, I know,” Arbusca said.

  Dufleur waited until Fairyfoot joined her in the hallway, then closed the door behind them. Each step she walked down the corridor increased her anxiety. Saille knew she was here, yet did not communicate with her, didn’t widen their link.

  Each Willow she met smiled at her, and she felt the weight of their expectations. She rolled her shoulders. Better get used to the responsibility. If she succeeded in her mission.

  By the time she reached the great room, she was panting unsteadilyand had to mutter a spell to keep her perspiration from staining her clothes. She hesitated at the door, then decided knocking and waiting for an answer from him would be more cowardly than discourteous, so she opened the door and walked in, closing it after Fairyfoot. The FamCat immediately went to a chair and sat, watching with big eyes and purring—in support, Dufleur hoped.

  Thirty-four

  Saille was in full FirstFamily GreatLord regalia, and her knees weakened. He stood before a chair that looked like a throne, and at his side was a table holding a fancy antique sword and blazer and gold box. FirstFamily symbols. What was she doing, thinking to claim him?

  He looked stern, forbidding, as if she was a mistake he’d put behind him. “Dufleur,” he said coolly.

  “You were right. I was wrong.”

  “About?”

  “About courage. About cowardice. About valuing the opinionsof others instead of believing in myself. About the whole HeartMate thing.”

  “A long list.”

  “Yes.” Despite her earlier resolutions, she stuck her fingers in her hair, tugged at it. “I hurt you.”

  “Yes.”

  She closed her eyes. This was horrible. She was handling it all wrong. But she’d persevere. “I’ve been too much trouble for you. Like I’ve always been to everyone.” She sniffed, opened her eyes. “But I’m going to continue to be trouble for you. To make mistakes with you. To hurt you and myself and be inept.
Because I love you, and I’m not letting you go.” She reached in her sleeve and pulled out the beautiful red silkeen bag containing his HeartGift. “I was going to give this back to you. So you could reject me, but I’ve decided against that.” She was rambling, fumblingfor words as always, but he would have to learn to live with that, too. “I hurt you, and that’s the worst sin of all.” Tears started leaking from her eyes, and she dashed them away. She walked straight up to him, toe-to-toe. “No one is ever going to love you as much as I love you, Saille.”

  He blinked, and their bond widened just enough for her to sense his softening. She grabbed a softleaf from her sleeve, too, blew her nose, threw the tissue away. “I brought my HeartGift to you.” She withdrew the spellshielded package from her sleeve and put it on the desk that held the Willow Family possessions.

  She opened her arms wide. “I am yours, Saille. I always have been, but have let my own fears and others’ opinions and actions keep me from you.”

  Saille saw her swallow. Her eyes wider than he’d ever seen, her hands more nervous. It was good she was apprehensive, it meant she cared. More than just sex and affection and gratitude and whatever other bonds he’d created between them.

  She stepped up to him, put her hands on each side of his face, as he’d so often done with her. “I love you, Saille. I want to HeartBond with you.”

  The door swung open, and his MotherDam stumped in, followedby his mother and several of his other relatives.

  Nasty old woman is here, Fairyfoot projected loudly enough for everyone to hear.

  “An animal. In my Residence. Unacceptable.”

  “She’s a FamCat, sentient, as you heard,” Saille said. “I have one myself.”

  “I will allow no flea-bitten animal in my house.”

  Fairyfoot growled and leapt down, heading for D’Willow. Fleas were a sore topic with her. “Fairyfoot, please me and Dufleur. Don’t upset the former D’Willow.” He showed his teeth in a smile. “We prefer to handle her ourselves.”

  Contenting herself to stalk around D’Willow with a thrashingtail, Fairyfoot said, I am a good and loving Fam. Woman is a mean old hag. No one likes her.

  “I want that cat out, now.”

  “No,” Dufleur said.

  Old D’Willow looked at her with disdain, then switched the same gaze to him. “I won’t be taking any Loyalty Oath to you.”

  Dufleur said, “You will take the oath, or I will prosecute you as an accessory to the murder of my father. I’m sure given the state of your health, we can keep it only to SupremeJudge Elder and a committee of the FirstFamilies Council.”

  “You can’t.” She seemed to sway, but stuck out her chin and moved forward until she leaned on the throne-chair. Saille eyed the seat. The arms didn’t look wide enough to accommodate his MotherDam’s mass. He realized he was amused. Surely that was the ultimate indication that he’d overcome any fear he’d had of this woman, that he was now amused by her?

  “No one will believe you. Your father was mad and dishonorable.”

  Dufleur snorted. “That old tune. He couldn’t have been so mad, since we worked together and I had the skill and knowledgeto revive you.”

  “You broke the laws of experimenting with time in Druida.”

  Dufleur shook her head at old D’Willow. “Wrong. My actionsin reviving you were perfectly legal, sanctioned beforehandby the Healers, who were there when you awoke, if you recall. You’ve lost several months of time, D’Willow.”

  “The FirstFamilies Council will stand with me!”

  Dufleur cocked her head, now she appeared amused. They’d both grown, then. Separately and together. “Truly? How many of your alliances hold? How much goodwill do you have with the members of the Council? I can’t think that it would be much. You are not a pleasant person.” She smiled, a genuine radiantsmile to Saille. “And Saille T’Willow has a great deal of goodwill. He’s consulted with many, has proven himself strong in Flair and common sense, and has been a great deal more accommodatingthan you.” She ended softly. “You can’t win anywhere—not in the Courts, you are an accessory to murder. You can’t win with the FirstFamilies Council, you have no allies who will fight with or for you. You can’t win in a pure trial of strength, because your Flair has been gone for a long time, and the Ship and T’Ash can testify to that. I won’t let you win. I love Saille, and he loves his Family, and we won’t let you win.”

  “You can’t win in the Family,” Saille said.

  Anger twisted his MotherDam’s expression. “You are wrong. I will always rule this Family.” Her lip curled. “Even though it’s obvious you’ve been poking and prying into my affairs.”

  Arbusca’s chin trembled, but she squared her shoulders. She turned to Saille and held out both her hands. He took them automatically.

  “I pledge to you on my most solemn Vow of Honor, that I will follow you, Saille T’Willow, as Head of the Willow household.I do this of my own free will and because I know you are the best person to serve the Family and the estate.”

  A tide of pure love came from his mother to him, and the bond between them doubled and redoubled.

  He cleared his throat, struggled to get the words from his throat. “I promise that I will set the welfare of my Family beforemy own, that I will protect and nurture each member of the Willow Family and seek to better this GreatHouse in every way.”

  “No!” shouted his MotherDam.

  The others were lining up behind his mother.

  “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you why you caught the rare milainvirus?” Dufleur said quietly. “The effect of so many broken Loyalty Oaths to your Family. We’ve all seen how the Hollys suffered. Now you are a good example, too.”

  “Lies!” she shrieked. “You told, her, boy, didn’t you, to get her on your side.”

  “What?”

  “Poking and prying and using what you learned against me! That gold box there of your mother’s. So he found it and gave it to you, Arbusca, just to alienate you from me.”

  Arbusca stared. “What?” she said faintly.

  “That gold ring, the one your HeartMate gave me for you. Your low-class, rude HeartMate who couldn’t appreciate you. Your son told you about it, how I kept it from you. Now you’re in a snit and paying me back.”

  Arbusca’s aura flashed, Flair spiraling out of control along with her temper. Saille had the oddest vision of her self-control disintegrating.

  “What! My HeartMate gave you something for me, and you never told me!”

  His MotherDam had a temper. He did, too. But he’d thought that had passed his mother. Apparently not.

  Face red with fury, eyes wild with pain, Arbusca snatched the ceremonial blazer from the table and shot D’Willow.

  Gasps started from throats, abrupt movements—D’Willow twisting, Saille jumping, hands to cover mouths or try to help— froze as Dufleur stopped time.

  They were all aware of it. She whirled to D’Willow. “Your choice. I can release time and let events take their course.”

  With obvious effort, the woman rolled her eyes toward her torso. The blazer beam would hit near her heart.

  “But this action costs us. All of us.” Pain knotted her nerves, biting, snapping. Sweat coated her body.

  No, D’Willow projected. Dufleur didn’t know if she was the only one to hear the old woman. A band tightened around Dufleur’s temples, throbbing. She couldn’t hold time for very long, even augmenting her Flair with others’, with Saille’s. Soon her vision would fade, then she would collapse.

  Moving through the thick fields of so many people was difficult.Dufleur calculated her best action. D’Willow was closest.

  Dufleur lifted one foot, placed it a few centimeters away. Lifted another. Near enough to D’Willow to set hands against her.

  Push. Push. Push.

  Could she succeed?

  Her breath labored, her field of vision narrowed.

  One. Last. Push.

  D’Willow fell slowly, then faster, and when she was a f
ew centimeters from the thick rugs, Dufleur released time and folded to the floor herself.

  Gasps. Arbusca’s finger releasing the trigger of the blazer, dropping the weapon. Saille continuing on his plunge across the room.

  Then screams. Sobbing from Arbusca. Comforting words.

  The feel of Saille lifting her into strong arms. His set face.

  “She’s convulsing!” someone said.

  With effort, Dufleur watched as old D’Willow’s body shook. “Her heart,” Saille said.

  No one rushed to the woman. Perhaps no one had the strength—physically or the will, Dufleur had used their Flair and energy, too.

  Froth and a gurgle escaped from D’Willow, then came the scent of death.

  “It’s over,” Saille said. “Mother, come with me to put Dufleur to bed.”

  Dufleur let darkness snatch her away.

  When she woke in Saille’s bed, that massive generational bed, she blinked in surprise that everyone who had been downstairsin the entry room was gathered around.

  A small smile curved Saille’s lips. “A meeting.”

  Clearing her throat, Dufleur said, “I must say something first.” She looked at Arbusca Willow. “I did it for you. Not for her. You are the heart of this Family.”

  Tears still trickling down streaks on her face, Arbusca nodded. Dufleur figured she hadn’t been unconscious for long. Less than she would have expected for such an effort. She groaned. Fat, soft pillows propped her up.

  One of the ladies bustled forward, with a tall porcelain cup with steam rising. A sweet smell teased Dufleur’s nostrils.

  “Drink this.” The woman held out the mug.

  Dufleur’s fingers twitched, but she couldn’t raise her hand.

  Saille took the mug and put it against her lips. The herbal tea was just hot enough to soothe her throat but not burn it. When she felt better, she turned her head away.

  “Drink it all,” Saille said.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “I think—”

  “Let the girl be, so we can talk this over.” The one who’d brought the mug retrieved it from Saille. She sent Dufleur a steady look. “You did the right thing. We all agree. You were right in what you did.”