Heart Fire (Celta Book 13)

by Robin D. Owens

  He could still see that blockage . . . as dark and heavy as the granite cathedral foundation. Surely she, as a priestess, would want the block gone.

  Her eyes opened. She smiled, stretched lingeringly, then stared at him with puzzlement on her face, lifting her finger to touch the knot between his brows.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Despite himself, he said, “I’m not deserving of you.”

  Now his frown transferred to her. She sat and gave him a stern priestess look, and said crisply, “You’re still reacting to the fact that Shade did terrible things and you’re his brother and responsible for them, too. That’s just wrong.”

  Oh, yeah, that stung. He jutted his chin. “The fact is, some people will always judge me by him, FirstFamilies people.”

  She tilted her head, considering him as he had her. But he was awake and didn’t like it.

  “How do you know?” she asked. “You assume that, but how do you know those people are so unforgiving?”

  “They’re FirstFamily Lords and Ladies, not known for their flexibility.”

  She sniffed.

  “And their careers, unlike yours, don’t include being forgiving.” But he shifted uncomfortably, sat up himself. Her words had echoed T’Equisetum’s the day before, though their motives were directly opposite. Antenn ran his hands through his hair, scrubbed his scalp, gave her a sideways look. “And maybe you think I lack a trifle self-confidence.”

  “I do.”

  “But I’m not the only one with flaws here.”

  She jerked as if she’d been struck, and he winced. “I didn’t mean it—”

  “I think you did.” Her lips compressed before she spoke again, “I never said I was without flaw.”

  “No. You didn’t.”

  “So?”

  “So, what?” he asked.

  “I gave you an unwelcome truth. You can tell me one.”

  He took both her hands, and the thing was, he could now feel that lid she had on her emotions, the solid door she’d locked them behind, the block she’d squashed them under. Whatever image he thought of it, the thing was real. And irritating, and would be that way until one of them fixed it.

  The flow between them came haltingly on her part. He dragged in a deep breath. Yeah, he was prepared to remove it for her. He thought he could do that, though he wondered what the explosion might do to him. He could deconstruct as well as design and build.

  He stood and she rose at the same time and they faced each other. He settled into his balance and matched her irritated gaze and said, “You don’t give all of yourself to me, Tiana, and I want it.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in outrage. “I certainly do give you everything I am!”

  “No. You don’t. I want all of you.” He scanned her from top to bottom. “Despite all your serenity, you’ve blocked a part of yourself off.” He coughed. “Like I did when I put a lock on the HeartMate connection between us.”

  She stared at him, scowling.

  “That barrier might never shift, might never crack or break . . . but you won’t be living a full life if it doesn’t, will you? And if I’ve learned anything from this whole situation, I know that I want to experience every moment of my life, and treasure every instant with you.”

  “You must be wrong.”

  “I have a bond with you, my lady. I can sense your deepest self.” He paused, then said deliberately, “And it is not serene.”

  He heard her teeth grind. She jerked her hands away, her fingers fisted, and then she took a deep breath and her hands uncurled.

  “No!” he snapped. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to be careful around me. You don’t have to suppress what you feel around me!”

  “I . . . I . . .”

  “All the time since I’ve known you, you’ve been trying to ‘work through’ this crap. Like you’ve ‘worked through’ it for years.” He swore he could see flashes of Flair lightning through her eyes, and some might be directed at him. So be it. He went on. “Maybe it’s better that you just let it all out.”

  She hunkered down, her back curved a little, her head thrust forward. Good, he was getting to her.

  He smiled a charm-the-client-smile he’d practiced for hours when an apprentice.

  A growl came from her.

  His smile widened. “Good, good.” He tilted his head, lifted his hands, and wiggled his fingers in the bring-it-on gesture. Even she, who wasn’t a fighter, would recognize that.

  She did.

  Narrowing his eyes again to check her inner self, he saw there was a crack in that barrier—like a stone flooring. “Come on, darlin’, tell me what’s botherin’ you.” His voice lilted with a patronizing note.

  And that was all it took.

  Boom! Not an audible sound, but an emotional one that hammered through the atmosphere. And that rush of fury crackled out in huge sheets, nearly searing him with the real and heartfelt heat. He caught the edge of it and the power of her Flair shoved him into the closest wall, which he banged with his shoulder.

  He grunted, felt her surprise, her hesitation.

  But he wouldn’t let her stop. Not now. This needed to be done. His mind scrabbled to grab on to the reason behind her anger, and he settled into his balance and gave it to her.

  “You are angry at your parents.” Yeah, that surprised him.

  “No!” she nearly shrieked.

  “Yes, but—”

  “No!”

  The barrier had blown up and away now. “Yes. You are.” He frowned. “Why?”

  She just shook her head, but they were well connected and the huge rage had begun to dissipate in her. He could sort through her turbulent emotions. “Yes. You’re angry because they didn’t fight when your home was firebombed.”

  “We might have hurt people if we—”

  He flung up a hand. “You don’t need to mouth any excuses to me. Your folks didn’t fight then, and they didn’t fight afterward. And that angered you.”

  Her lips and chin trembled.

  “And it’s understandable . . . both that you were furious and what your parents did—or failed to do. Your Family is gentle and pacifists, so you copied their behavior and accepted what was. Your training helped you squash those feelings.”

  “I . . . I . . .” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “I thought I’d gotten through these issues.”

  “Probably some, but not all. Not the underlying basic stuff.” Cautiously he stepped forward and closed his hands around her upper arms. He dug down for a tone of command he rarely used. “Why are you mad at your parents?” he snapped.

  “They took my home away!” She shuddered now. “No—”

  “Yes. They took you away from your home and you never got to go back . . .”

  Her shudders turned into full-body shakes.

  “So you’re angry at them. Let it out.”

  “Yes, I’m furious with them. They didn’t try to fix things. To get back what they lost.” She wrenched away from him, flailed her arms as she stomped around, tears pouring down her face. Then she pounded her chest with a fist. “That hurt me and I was a child and couldn’t do anything about it and—”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  She flung out her arm, pointing. “And YOU!”

  “Me?” He blinked.

  “You are my HeartMate and you HID from me. I couldn’t find you. Why, why?”

  “Not my fault—”

  “Shut up! You! You could have had that spell taken off at any time. You didn’t let me help you, either. You didn’t have faith in yourself or me.”

  Thirty-six

  That’s not true,” he protested.

  “It is true.” Her stomping had turned into striding. “I’m angry at you, too.”

  “I can see that.”

  “You hurt me, too.” She swallowed hard and the tears, which had paused, began again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes lit with a wild ferocity he’d never seen in th
em . . . far, far from her usual tranquility. She sure was letting it all out.

  “Years I endured thinking you didn’t want me because of the scandal. Because you might have believed the original lies about me and my Family.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “So you can understand some of what I went through—go through—too. Not being good enough for you.”

  “Not feeling as if you’re good enough for me. Tcha!” She paced up to him, stabbed a finger in his chest, flung out her arms again. “Blood doesn’t determine who I love.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “You’re a priestess and supposed to be nonjudgemental.” He squared his shoulders, letting her words actually sink in. “So you just thought I was cowardly and stupid,” he said evenly, his own temper beginning to simmer at how dismissive she’d been of his concerns.

  She tossed her head. “Stupid in a different way.”

  “Right. Great. Just what a man likes to hear from his lover.”

  Narrowing her own eyes, she corrected, “HeartMate. And you were the one who started this. Yes, I’m carrying a lot of anger from my past. Ire at my parents for just abandoning our life. I’m . . . peeved . . . at you for your stupid spell, and for thinking the way you did. The way you do!”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  Before either of them could say anything else, Felonerb RatKiller appeared, hissing. You all big mad! he said to Tiana, then whirled to face Antenn, all his fur on end. He hurt you! You said so. I will BITE him. He leapt for Antenn.

  “Wait!” Tiana pulled at her Fam and he landed into her arms. Her expression tightened to stone. “You did hurt me.” Her breath came out less explosively, and Antenn reckoned she was winding down. “All those years I couldn’t find you, even if I’d tried.”

  “Which you didn’t.” He discovered he hurt, too.

  “I tested the link between us often. There was nothing there,” she said. “I don’t care who your brother was or what he did. I don’t care who your father is or isn’t. I want my HeartMate. And if you wanted me to reach my full potential, I want the same for you. Accept yourself, Antenn. Value yourself.”

  “Ah, Family?” TQ asked tentatively. “You are affecting my emotions and those of the ferals around me.” He cleared his throat. “There are fights.”

  “Oh,” Tiana said.

  Antenn snorted. “Oops.”

  “It’s not funny,” she said.

  “I suppose not. Maybe you should discuss this matter with your parents and clear stuff up.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Of course you can,” Antenn said.

  She glared at him as if she thought he was being sarcastic. He wasn’t.

  Felonerb jumped from her arms onto the bed and she strode over to a dresser, yanked a softleaf from a box and used it to wipe away continuing tears, then blew her nose. “I will discuss this with my parents. And my sister.”

  She looked at Antenn, then flushed. “Fighting, I’ve caused fighting between innocent animals.”

  Felonerb, kneading the comforter on the bed, belched.

  “You’ve made me understand how much you hurt me.” She put her hand on her heart. “I don’t know when I’ll want to see you again.”

  “We have to work together.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps!”

  Pressing her hands against her head only emphasized how flushed she was and her tear tracks. “I can’t think. I’m only feeling.” Biting her lip, she shook her head. “I don’t know what I want with you.” She flung on her clothes, then walked over to a corner that held a teleportation pad.

  “Wait—” She shouldn’t leave him. Couldn’t. Desperation fired through him, making him wave his arms jerkily. “Wait! I didn’t mean to—”

  But she left.

  Felonerb hissed at him.

  “I don’t have to stay here, cat. And I’m not.” He wouldn’t go home. His mother and father would want to talk about the ritual, the cathedral, and Tiana. His Betony-Blackthorn cuzes would—

  His cuzes Vensis and Draeg would be at The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon. Tonight was an all-night melee for charity, the continuation of the refurbishment of old Downwind.

  Antenn had paid the entrance fee for the fight and pledged more besides but had disregarded the event when the Chief Ministers had set tonight for their ritual. He kept a locker and fighting robes at the salon. All-night fighting. Damn good release.

  Surely others would have arrived late. Or the rounds of competition were over now. He didn’t know, but yearned for a good bout.

  “TQ, thanks for your hospitality. Good seeing you again.”

  “Antenn, it’s all my fault—” TQ began.

  He didn’t hear the rest of that, and didn’t need to, because Antenn knew damn well whose fault it was. His own. As he changed in the Men’s Locker Room, he understood that the disaster he’d been flirting with all day had finally caught up with him.

  And losing—for now and who knew how long?—Tiana’s affection sliced worse than if he’d lost the job. He didn’t want to contemplate how tough it would be to work with her on the cathedral. She’d probably retreat behind that perfect priestess exterior that he found difficult to affect. Or maybe she’d go icy. Either way, he didn’t like the results of what he’d said and done.

  Needed to be said and done, but maybe he should have put it off until later, until they knew each other better.

  But he’d never been one to let a faulty foundation stay.

  When he stepped into the main salon, Tinne Holly nodded to him and strode up. Though Antenn was sure the man would have been in several fights by now, he appeared unharmed, unmussed. He clapped Antenn on the shoulder. “Greetyou, Antenn. Sorry the Holly Family couldn’t be at that ceremony of your cathedral tonight, but we’d already set this up.”

  “I understand.”

  Antenn’s cuz Draeg, who spent most of his time at this place when he wasn’t prowling the city streets looking for trouble, pummeled Antenn on his opposite shoulder. Draeg was taller, broader, and hadn’t been starved for food in his childhood. He said, “It was a good ceremony. Unusual since it was not to the Lord and the Lady, but intriguing, all the same. I liked it. Like the look of that structure you’re building, too. Didn’t expect to see you here tonight, though. Guys with new, hot lovers can find better things to do than fight.”

  Draeg and Tinne laughed, and Antenn said, “Let’s fight.” He poked Draeg, who could take him down three out of five times, in the chest.

  “Trouble so soon?” Draeg shook his head. “Sad to see.” He scanned Antenn up and down. “Just sad.”

  Antenn growled.

  Tinne raised his voice. “Change of plans! General melee in two minutes.”

  “Fine,” Antenn said.

  “Fine,” Draeg said.

  * * *

  Tiana dropped onto the teleportation pad in the mainspace of BalmHeal Residence. She’d been a little off, but was lucky her emotions hadn’t influenced her ’porting even more. She’d have liked to have blamed everything on Antenn, but of course she couldn’t do that. No strong person could, let alone a priestess. All he’d done was prod her to reveal—spectacularly—the understandable but awful emotions lurking inside her.

  She must still be broadcasting great distress because her mother ran in. Her mother and father had probably been spending time in the conservatory, talking about the ritual, which seemed years ago instead of a couple of septhours.

  Quina appeared anxious. “What’s wrong?”

  Tiana wobbled over to a twoseat, not her regular chair in the Family grouping, and collapsed. She translocated the crumpled softleaf in her hand to a cleanser, pulled another one from her sleeve, and wiped her face. She couldn’t stop crying . . . better not to stop crying.

  Sinjin! her mother called telepathically. Artemisia! Garrett!

  Tiana wanted to say Garrett didn’t need to be here, but that was her own cowardice speaking. He’
d understood her before, but he loved her sister and her parents. He wouldn’t be on her side now.

  Tiana’s father jogged in, expression concerned, followed by Artemisia. Maybe Garrett wouldn’t show—

  There was a quiet swish and the man appeared on the teleportation pad, face tense. Like her father, he went to his HeartMate and put his arm around her waist. Tiana wanted to think that she and Antenn would be like that, but they hadn’t meshed.

  She wanted all the pain to go away, all the anger that still spurted through her, all the exhaustion and confusion. She wished to bury her head in her hands, but until she faced the situation, life wasn’t going to get better. So she lifted her hunched spine bit by bit and faced her Family.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” asked her father, who sat next to her. Her mother, still linking fingers with him, hovered close.

  Tiana gulped because she was afraid she’d scream at him, as she’d screamed at Antenn. Absolutely no rein on her emotions.

  “I . . . I . . .” A gulp of air, this time, not swallowing tears. She pressed her flattened hand above her breasts, close to her heart. “I have this rage inside me I didn’t know about.”

  Her eyes had blurred again and it was good because it distanced her a little from the world, from whatever reaction she would see in her father’s eyes when she told him the truth. “I am angry.” Her voice shook and now she couldn’t tell if it was only anger, but fear of hurting her parents, or embarrassment at losing control or what-all-ever.

  Stumbling, she let it out. “You just . . . we just . . . we left our home during the mob firebombing and we never returned. We abandoned it and everything!” The words tore from her.

  Her parents shared a glance. To her absolute surprise, her father lifted her and set her on his lap, and then her mother took Tiana’s seat, crowding her. That was fine.

  Artemisia and Garrett drew up their regular chairs.

  “How could you do that? Leave our home?” Tiana cried.

  Her father held her close and rocked her. “There was evil out there. An evil man of the Black Magic Cult had left clues implicating us—your mother as a member of the Intersection of Hope—as running that murderous cult. Everyone, Commoners and Nobles alike, went through a time of panic.”