Cratag crossed back to Vinni, curved a large hand on the boy’s shoulder, and squeezed.
They stood in a still tableau for an eternity until the door swung open and D’Ash shot into the room, dressed in drab brown work tunic and trous that would hide stains.
“D’Ash, D’Ash,” Avellana hiccupped through her tears, stroking Flora.
Flora’s energy spiked a little at the woman’s name then went completely dark. The houseflluff’s eyes glazed.
D’Ash hurried over to the Fam, curved her hands gently under the soft body, lifted. Flora’s ears flopped. “I’m sorry,” D’Ash said. “She’s gone.”
Avellana emitted a piercing shriek. Signet tightened her grip on the girl.
“No, no, no!”
“I’m sorry—”
“She’s not gone yet! Her soul is still here. I won’t let her go!” Avellana screamed. She reached out with both her hands and fiisted the air.
Signet felt it. As if some giant grabbed her insides and pulled.
Then drained her of Flair.
Her body arched then folded. She pressed her fingers to her chest. Her gasp caught in her throat, but she thought she heard howls and barks and a distant explosion of rage from a male throat—T’Ash?
She managed to move her head to see the very pregnant D’Ash crumple. Cratag caught her, but the woman was pale, and her hands had gone to her belly. Signet got the awful idea that everyone’s Flair had been drained. Including D’Ash’s unborn twins’.
Vinni fell over.
So did Signet.
Avellana huddled over Flora, panting, perspiration standing out on her forehead, then slumped.
The last thing Signet saw before darkness sucked her away, too weak to fight, was Flora’s long ears twitch and her bright eyes open.
Avellana had brought Flora back from death.
Something grabbed his guts. Cratag grunted a “Fligger,” saw D’Ash’s knees give out. He gritted his teeth and moved forward sluggishly to catch her. She was the most important one to help, though he saw Signet fall, heard a thump of Vinni behind him, and Avellana slid down in her chair.
One step with darkness nibbling at the edge of his mind. Two. He knew he was in that battle zone where time slowed and stilled, but he still feared he wouldn’t reach D’Ash in time, despite all his training. But he did. He caught her, let himself fall with her atop him, cushioning her. He tried to use some Flair to ease her fall, but it was gone.
He lay on the floor, breath ragged, and realized the entire Residence was too quiet, too still. “T’Ash Reshidensh?” He meant it as a demand but it came out as a slurred whisper.
The house didn’t answer him, and it was a new, strong Residence. Nothing, nobody stirred. Holding D’Ash, he could tell her energy levels, the twins’, were thready. Through her link he dimly sensed that her HeartMate, T’Ash, was also drained and lying in the corridor between his workrooms and here. Their fiirst child had fainted in the nursery, along with his male nanny.
None of the dozen Fam animals in the house made a peep, mental or physical.
SCARED!
The word blasted into his mind, and he turned his head. Progress. He saw Flora crouching on Avellana’s lap.
Everything inside him stilled. That Fam was dead. He’d seen her die. No question, he knew death when he saw it.
The housefluff’s big brown eyes fixed on his, and she tumbled off the chair, began to crawl to him. Definitely alive and not hurt.
The Residence hadn’t answered him. It, too, must be out of commission. That made him and Flora the only ones conscious, and they weren’t in good shape.
Meanwhile D’Ash’s pulse was beginning to skip beats. He had to move, now!
He didn’t have to be careful of D’Ash, he was moving too slowly to bobble her as he inched from under her. The effort caused his vision to haze again, dots to swim before his eyes.
His chest rose and fell as he rocked to hands and knees. Sheer determination kept him moving. If he didn’t move, he’d collapse, and people needed him, dammit.
Scared. Big hurt. Dark. Pretty lights, colors. Then here. FamBoy not awake! Scared.
“Shhh!” He lifted a shaking hand to smooth over the housefluff, once. Blinked and blinked to clear his vision looking for the scrybowl.
On counter against wall. Other side of table. Flora angled her ears, but he couldn’t see the damn thing. He made it to the table, grabbed the edge of it under the permamoss sponge, hauled himself up. Continued to heft himself onto the table because the counter was within his long reach. He touched the rim of the bowl. Tipped it and water sloshed. Swore. Touched it with his finger again and rubbed a tiny amount. “T’Heather,” he yelled, and it came out in regular speaking tones. “Mortal emergency. T’Ash Residence! Mortal emerg—”
The FirstLevel Healer rushed into the room from the teleportation pad outside, swearing as ripely as Cratag. Went immediately to D’Ash and thundered “Stat, Primary HealingHall,” swept her into his brawny arms, and vanished.
T’Heather’s daughter and Daughter’sDaughter, both FirstLevel Healers, crossed to Avellana and Vinni.
Scared, Cratag! Flora snifflled. T’Heather’s Daughter’sDaughter, who had Vinni, scooped up the Fam, nodded to Cratag, and said, “Good job,” and teleported away. So did the Healer who had Avellana.
Other Healers poured into the Residence. Cratag felt warm hands shift him to lie straight on the table, which was good, ’cause the blood had been flowing to his dangling head and arms. “Signet?” he whispered.
“D’Marigold is fine,” came an authoritative voice.
He didn’t think so but couldn’t argue. He had just enough energy to keep his eyes open and watch the Healers work, finding people, summoning animal tenders for the unconscious Fams, then he, too, was teleported away to Primary HealingHall.
The secret’s bound to get out,” Signet said as she climbed onto Cratag’s lap and burrowed against him, and that was fiine and wonderful. They were on the deeply padded bench of the D’Marigold Family glider, released to go home. The vehicle smoothly pulled away from Primary HealingHall.
He’d already given a report to some of the top FirstFamily lords and ladies, including T’Heather, T’Hawthorn, D’Hazel, T’Holly, D’Grove of the older generation and T’Willow and Ruis Elder, Captain of the Starship Nuada’s Sword, of the younger. D’Ash had begun labor and was still at the HealingHall; T’Ash was weak and with her.
Even though the great folk had tried to limit the number of their own set who knew what happened at T’Ash’s, Cratag didn’t think that block would hold.
“Too many people already know something important occurred,” Signet murmured into his chest, her breath warm against him. “Healers, animal trainers, the staff at Primary HealingHall, the PerSuns called in to give energy.” She pulled away from him a little, looked at him with narrowed eyes. He felt her probe. “Your energy is good, but your Flair levels haven’t recovered yet. Neither have mine.”
Cratag tightened his arm around his lover.
“Not that Avellana will be able to use her Flair very often,” Signet said.
“Lady and Lord preserve us all.” He drew her close, set his chin atop her head, then repeated what he’d only said once and in a whisper. “Avellana brought Flora back from death.”
Signet’s breath caught, and her fingers clutched his shirt. “And she used the energy and Flair from everyone in a strong GreatLord Residence to do so.” Signet tipped back her head and met his gaze, her eyes bluer than normal. “I think we know what her extraordinary Flair is.”
Signet was silent and Cratag thought about it. “You Healed her brain.”
“Not me, exactly. My Flair has helped hers Heal her.” Signet cleared her throat and said in a tiny voice, “Maybe that’s why she is what she is.”
Snorting, Cratag ran his palm down her arm. “Avellana is what she is.” Something they’d said often.
Signet sighed. “If the Hazels are wise, and they are, th
ey’ll spread the word that Avellana’s Flair is for holo paintings.”
“Her creative Flair.”
“Her only Flair,” Signet corrected. “People will believe a brain-damaged child would be crippled and have only one kind of signifi cant Flair.”
“That might work.”
“No one wants to make life harder for her,” Signet said. “And it isn’t easy to believe that someone can raise the dead. Not that Flora was very dead—”
“Dead is dead.”
Again Signet looked at him, her lips curving. “Flora’s soul was still . . . available . . . to be—”
“Sucked back into her body,” Cratag said, making a loud slurping noise.
Signet laughed, and he eased. They’d be all right. “Avellana didn’t go into her Passage. Usually an emotional event will trigger it,” he said.
“Too drained herself of Flair,” Signet whispered.
Cratag had to say the whole thing out loud, just once. He glanced out the glider windows to make sure no other vehicle was near and they were going fast enough that no one along the street would hear. “A seven-year-old girl drained the energy and Flair of two GreatLords, a FirstFamily Residence, two GrandLadies, herself, three GreatLord children, and multiple Fams to return life to one small housefluff, recently deceased.”
With a huffed breath, Signet shook her head. “No, I don’t think she’ll be called on often to return the dead to life. Who could afford it? Hmm. I bet the NobleCouncil will pay her good NobleGilt for the rest of her life, though . . . to not practice her craft.”
“I’m not a spiritual man,” Cratag said. “But bringing back a person who’s died is . . . disturbing.”
Signet shivered. “Yes. I suppose some people could get upset.” Then her mouth fir med, and she said, “I think those lords and ladies we spoke with will quash the rumors. I’m sure there is more than one secret the FirstFamilies know that most other folk don’t.”
“And the starship Nuada’s Sword, and each Family itself must have secrets. . .” Cratag stopped when he saw Signet flu sh. He didn’t pursue it, but she said, “The tap dancing.”
A laugh snorted from him, and he squeezed her. They’d passed through the D’Marigold gates, and the lovely frivolous peach-colored Residence rose ahead of them. “Tap dancing is not exactly on the same order as raising the dead.”
Sniffing, Signet said, “We Marigolds are civilized, sophisticated types.” Then she frowned. “The Hazels have a vested interest in not letting word get out about Avellana—”
“So does Vinni,” Cratag said.
“Yes. You’re right, this is not a minor matter and could possibly cause disorder.” Signet’s frown deepened. “What would you do if someone beloved died in your arms and you knew. . .”
Cratag thought of his sister, hesitated. Her loss was still an ache after all these years, but an old ache. Then he thought of the woman he held in his arms. “Anything,” he rasped.
“And if HeartMates are in question, saving one would mean saving both. . .” Signet said and he followed her thoughts, yes, the FirstFamilies, hell, any Family might want to use a person with such Flair.
“The cost is too great,” he said.
“Maybe,” she said doubtfully and shivered. “Avellana must be protected.”
“She will be.”
“She still hasn’t finished her First Passage, so the Hazels will be bringing her back to us.” Signet paused. “I love her. The revelation of her talent doesn’t change that.”
Cratag’s turn to frown. “She used this power before she fiinished First Passage, and her Flair will only get stronger?”
“Usually,” Signet murmured.
“Fligger.”
That night, Cratag held Signet in his arms and stared into the dark. Both tired, they’d gone to bed early. There weren’t enough PerSuns—people who stored life energy and could transfer it to others without draining themselves—to handle the emergency at T’Ash’s. Once D’Ash was conscious, she’d insisted all the sick Fams in the house be treated. So Cratag and Signet had accepted only enough energy to sustain life.
He let a shudder pass from head to toe.
They’d been dying. D’Ash and her unborn children, strong T’Ash, Signet. All the adults except Cratag himself. The children—little Nuin Ash, Vinni, Avellana—and the Fams might have survived. That much he’d fiigured when he analyzed the situation.
The completely strange, unique, and terrifying situation. He tightened his grip on Signet, and she murmured in her sleep and turned to him.
She’d almost died. Would have died if he hadn’t been a big man, had less Flair to drain than others, depended more on his physical strength.
He’d been fooling himself.
He couldn’t imagine life without her.
Maybe in the back of his mind, in the chambers of his heart, he’d been toying with the idea of keeping the affair going a long time, years. That wasn’t unknown between a noble and a commoner.
But that was before this morning brought the sword point home to his heart.
He loved Signet.
He didn’t want to live without her.
He could live without her. They weren’t HeartBonded HeartMates, or even husband and wife, but without her, his life would have a hole nothing could fill.
How could he win her? A rough guard from a small town in the southern continent that wasn’t on most maps and a sophisticated Druidan city GrandLady—beautiful in manners and intelligence and sweetness, great in noble power and status and Flair.
He’d been able to pretend that a short, discreet affair wouldn’t affect her in the eyes of her own level of nobility. That such an affair wouldn’t affect his status as chief of T’Hawthorn’s guards.
A long affair would be whispered about, and Signet herself seemed to want their relationship to be open. He’d have gone on hiding it.
But loving her meant a strong and solid, public relationship. Major changes in their lives, his life.
He didn’t know if he was capable of such change.
It should have been easy: he loved the woman, he’d give up his life, move in with her. Live on her income instead of providing any of his own. Face it, any professional services he could provide her were minimal. He didn’t know if he could bear taking gilt from her.
This fanciful Residence and this sophisticated Family might have had a gigolo or two in the past, but Cratag didn’t consider himself gigolo material. He was like a sturdy, tough woven raw cotton tunic, gray to hide stains. Signet was the most delicate of silks . . . one of those pretty shawls that could be pulled through a gold ring.
He loved her.
He wanted her.
But he didn’t know how he could have her.
Twenty-seven
A very subdued Avellana was escorted to D’Marigold Residence by her Family two mornings later. Signet had requested the Hazels teleport to the pad inside her office. She was tired of using her favorite sitting room for less-than-pleasant business discussions. Except for Avellana, all the Hazels were business. D’Hazel hadn’t demurred, so the Hazels sat looking uncomfortable in large, softly cushioned chairs with round arms and a discreet flloral pattern that matched the honey-toned panelled walls.
D’Hazel said, “Avellana’s Flair is rebuilding, thank the Lady and Lord! As is everyone’s.” Signet felt the brush of the GreatLady’s Flair, refllexively checking that no one eavesdropped on the heavily shielded office in the heavily shielded sentient Residence on the shielded estate. “The newborn T’Ash twins show excellent energy and Flair, as does all the Family.”
The Ashes were known for their strength and energy.
D’Hazel continued. “They’ve been very understanding and reasonable.”
Signet couldn’t keep from looking at Cratag, who had hitched a hip on her desk. She’d rather have pulled chairs into a circle, but he had insisted she sit in a position of power. She wondered what the Hazels had paid in reparation to the Ashes.
T
’Hawthorn told me it was three golden favor tokens and alliance for five generations, Cratag replied mentally, his lips twisted sardonically.
“I have considered my fee—” Signet said.
“—anything! Anything at all, Avellana must survive her First Passage.” D’Hazel’s hands twisted in her lap.
Avellana’s sister, who sat with her in the same chair, hugged Avellana close. Avellana didn’t meet Signet’s eyes and seemed miserable, as if she’d suffered through a series of meetings like this dressed again in miniature adult formal clothes. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” Avellana whispered. “I didn’t think. I didn’t control myself. I won’t ever do it again.” She sniffled.
Signet wanted to hold and soothe her. Later. “Apology accepted. I believe my fee is substantial enough, but I would like alliance with the Hazels for two generations.”
“We’re honored,” said T’Hazel. His hand reached out for his wife’s, and she clasped it.
“Agreed.” D’Hazel stood, and so did her husband and elder daughter. D’Hazel’s gaze squarely met Signet’s. “Thank you.”
“I love Avellana,” Signet said.
“Thank you,” Avellana’s sister and father said in unison. They all marched to the teleportation pad, D’Hazel stepped onto it last, opened her mouth as if to give ever more instructions, then shook her head and closed her lips. With one last nod, they teleported away.
Cratag went over to reset the teleportation pad indicator, and Signet moved from behind her desk to Avellana’s chair and crouched down to the girl’s eye level. Avellana still didn’t look up. “I’m sorry,” she said in a tiny voice.
“I love you, Avellana,” Signet repeated.
The girl burst into tears and launched herself into Signet’s arms. Signet began to topple, but Cratag was there and steadied them both. “I love you, too, Avellana,” he rumbled.
Avellana wept.
“It’s a beautiful day. Let’s all walk in the garden,” Signet said.
“I’m wrinkling my clothes, and getting snot—”
Cratag gave her a massive softleaf, and she wiped her face. Signet said a Word and the girl’s clothes smoothed.
Heart Change Page 25