Heart Fire (Celta Book 13)

by Robin D. Owens

  Antenn followed her gaze, then flushed and muttered something she didn’t catch.

  “What?”

  He stood straight, took a pace away from her, opened his hands, palms up, and then closed his eyes. His mouth formed silent words. A moment later, a model of the intricate castle appeared resting on his spread hands.

  Tiana gasped, stepped close, and touched her index finger to a glass dome that she could see through to a tiny grand staircase.

  Antenn’s breath whistled in and he stiffened more, pushed the model toward her. “Dearest Tiana.” His voice strained, he coughed, and continued, “Dearest Tiana, do you accept my HeartGift?”

  The sexual energy that emanated from HeartGifts was banked, so the gift itself had a spell to minimize lust on it.

  She discovered her mouth had instantly dried, and she stepped back, more to see the entire model instead of fantastic details, but it was the wrong thing to do. Antenn’s mouth twisted.

  So she shot out her hands and grasped him around his elbows, taking the weight of the model on her arms, too, and met his hazel gaze.

  “Yes, I do.” She coughed slightly.

  TQ said, “There is a table in the northeast corner here for the castle.”

  They turned and looked at the table, dark wood with diamond-shaped studs of silver. Antenn made to take the model, and Tiana held on to it fiercely, scowled at him. “This is mine.”

  You are giving the fun-thing-to-look-at AWAY? wailed Pinky.

  Antenn grinned, said an anti-grav couplet, and let her have it.

  Pinky continued to whine. It has little peoples in it I want to bat around!

  Slanting a look at his cat, then Tiana, Antenn said, “He was such a sweet cat when we were younger.”

  Peoples I can bat around? Felonerb hopped up to Tiana’s shoulder and looked down. I do not see.

  Pinky sat and licked his paw. Have to take roof off. He lifted his nose and stared in another direction. I know how to do that.

  “I don’t want either of you Fams to do that,” Tiana said as she carried the castle over to the table, a difficult process because she kept seeing tiny details that delighted her. “Who are the people, Antenn?”

  “Uh, the last Captain of the starship Nuada’s Sword and his wife, Fern. I saw a viz about them once. They were my heroes as a teen.”

  Everything in Tiana softened. “Lovely.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You need help?”

  “No, it’s light and there’s a groove in the table. It’s a fabulous table, and just exactly right for the model!”

  “I had it made,” TQ said. The room rustled around them. “I have been linked with Antenn for a long time.”

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Antenn said roughly.

  “Yes, in the back of your mind, or the depths of your heart,” TQ said.

  Antenn hunched a shoulder.

  “I like the model very much, but I think Pinky is right,” Tiana murmured.

  I am always right. The small beige cat preened. About what?

  “It’s a wonderful thing to look at. I think I’d like it in the MistrysSuite rather than down here in the HouseHeart.”

  Antenn joined her. “We can translocate it later. And I’ll show you how to open each wall and the roof, later, too.” He cleared his throat loudly. “I gave you my HeartGift and you accepted.”

  She looked up and found his intense gaze fixed on her. “I accepted your HeartGift. I accepted, earlier, that we are HeartMates, and so stated.” Heat washed through her. “I accept that when we next make love, we will HeartBond.”

  “I gave you my HeartGift,” he repeated.

  Felonerb thwapped her on her head with a paw. You must give him a gift.

  Antenn stepped back abruptly. “I know I wasn’t closely connected with you.”

  She nodded slowly, suddenly breathless; time to take another level of commitment to this man, their relationship, the Family and home they would share. She’d wanted to put this moment off a little, because she was still overwhelmed, but she would not hurt him further.

  Her eyes looking deep into his, she held out a hand, felt where her HeartGift was, and translocated the scroll to her palm. It felt as it had before, a heavier, weightier papyrus especially created for very important documents out of top-quality linen.

  She’d made the papyrus herself during Passage, a dreamquest that freed her Flair and had her reaching for her HeartMate.

  With a big breath, she held the rolled papyrus tied with a white velvet ribbon between them. It, too, had an anti-lust spell on it, for the moment. Concentrating on not rushing her words, she said, “Antenn Blackthorn-Moss, do you accept my HeartGift?”

  He nearly snatched it from her grasp. “Yes.” But they yet stared into each other’s eyes. “What is it?” he asked, and she felt flushed warmth staining her cheeks again. “It’s a wedding ceremony, with my vows . . . and yours.”

  His eyes widened and he broke their gaze, but his fingers trembled as he opened the papyrus. He blinked and his eyes focused on a phrase, and he read: In all the world, at the setting sun, under twinmoons and bright skies, I have found you and found love and love you, my HeartMate, the one who completes me. He swallowed, let the papyrus curl up, opened his mouth, shut it, and shook his head, though he didn’t hide the sheen in his eyes, the huge welling of love flooding their bond, the acceptance of her, his need for her.

  As she needed and accepted him. So she cleared her throat and said, “Will you marry me, Antenn Blackthorn-Moss, as day turns to dusk in the outside grove at GreatCircle Temple, next full twinmoons, my HeartMate?”

  “Nearly two weeks,” he croaked. “So long.”

  “And will you, Turquoise House, accept us as your Family?” Tiana asked. “Where we can live and raise our children, who will be yours also?”

  “Will you do that, Turquoise House?” Antenn asked.

  “YES, TIANA. YES, ANTENN! You have always been my Family.”

  Forty

  Six Months Later

  Summer, First-Quarter Twinmoons

  Evening

  Antenn and Tiana kissed the last of their guests, his parents, Straif and Mitchella Blackthorn, good-bye. When the couple vanished, they glanced around the courtyard behind Antenn’s business. The caterers, a male couple, and their staff efficiently boxed the food and dismantled the tables and chairs, translocating them to their storage.

  The food served to the FirstFamily couples had been the best and the most expensive that Antenn could afford. It had looked great, and despite his deep nerves, which he hoped hadn’t shown except for an instinctive twitch or two, conversation had flowed easily among the group—those who’d shown up. Mostly the younger set and the more liberal of all ages had come.

  The Birches, who’d suffered burns from one of the firebombspells his brother had used to murder people in the FirstFamilies council, had not even acknowledged the invitation.

  But others who’d been burned, like T’Reed, had accepted his hospitality. Even others who’d inherited after they’d lost their relatives to Shade’s murders, like the Rowan and Elder Families, had greeted him and eaten his food, and talked to him about the cathedral. The most conservative Family, now, the WhitePoplars, hadn’t attended, and a few more.

  Neither had the Yews, though no one in any of the Councils seemed to know what was going on with that Family or Residence, since the Heir was only a girl of fourteen and had never been seen.

  “That went well,” Tiana said, and Antenn luxuriated in the sweet peace of her. He’d realized a while back that when he’d met her, her natural personality hadn’t shown through . . . and now that she’d—they’d—grown together, she really shone. He loved being with her.

  She nudged him with her elbow. “I said that went well.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I accept that there are people who will never tolerate me because of what my brother did.” Antenn paused. “And what he did was terrible. But I also don’t care too much about wha
t those people think.” He smiled himself. “I had many more people accept my invitation than I’d anticipated.”

  “You aren’t as disliked as you thought.”

  “You’re right.” Now they were alone, he stretched long, working leftover tension from his muscles, and let his gaze focus on the treetops, then wander in the direction of NobleCountry, where most of his guests lived. “Many of my childhood fears have been laid to rest. But this was the right time for this gathering. The FirstFamilies are intrigued by the cathedral and know the building will last for centuries. It’s also good to understand that no one will ruin my career because of what my brother did.” He put an arm around her shoulders and led her to a bench to sit in the shade as the heat of the summer’s day faded into evening.

  “We promised my mother that we’d meet her at the cathedral tonight,” Tiana said.

  “And we will, but let’s take a few minutes for ourselves.” He drew her down to sit beside him. “By the way, the clerk sent the papyrus closing your complaint against T’Equisetum and your petition to the NobleCouncil here. Got them today.”

  “Ah.” She sat and smiled—and not one of those compassionate priestessly smiles.

  “He got the justice he deserved,” Antenn said. His arm dropped to her waist and he squeezed her tightly, until she squeaked. “Satisfied?” he asked,

  She’d told him before, but he always pressed. “Yes. We all are.” She leaned against him, and he closed his eyes better to see deep into her emotional aura, and was pleased with the clear and golden result. No seed of discontent at T’Equisetum, or the actions of her Family as a child, lived within her. She’d seen justice done and that had settled her.

  Antenn stretched out his legs and a sigh rattled from him. “I liked it best when he had to admit he did wrong before the whole AllCouncils membership and the newssheets and ask pardons from each member of your Family.”

  She nodded. “He had to admit to hubris, arrogant ways. A good lesson for all.”

  Equisetum hadn’t wanted to do that; what man would?

  “I don’t think he even understood he was flawed or believed he was wrong until we forced him into treatment with a mind Healer.”

  “Nobles keep having to learn that lesson,” Antenn said. “That wealth and power and birth and status don’t automatically give you a right to harm others by word or deed for your own ends. That just because you have wealth and power and birth and status, whatever you believe is right.”

  She sighed. “I don’t think he would have learned that without having to experience all the memories each of us had of that night. The man had no empathy until it was forced upon him.”

  “Justice,” Antenn said; his jaw tensed and he relaxed it. Justice had been done; he didn’t get to call harm or duel on the man. “Neither he nor his son is allowed to participate in any council, anywhere. They had to let his daughter take the title of GraceLady D’Equisetum.” Antenn couldn’t prevent his lip from curling. “They were lucky they retained their estate, wealth, and title.”

  “I heard the former GraceLord T’Equisetum is moving to Gael City.” Tiana laughed lightly. “He will receive only a pittance of NobleGilt for his new work, based on his creative Flair.”

  Antenn drew back so he could see her. “I don’t know what his creative Flair is.”

  “Stunted,” she said. “He denied his creative Flair, never practiced it—two-dimensional painting.”

  Antenn contemplated what kind of hideous painting—subject matter and technique—the man might produce. “I don’t want anything of his near my buildings.” He paused for a trifle bit of consideration. “I think I’ll notify all of my subcontractors of that, and my mother.” He grinned. “And I think I’ll send a brief note to the ex-Lord not to submit any of his work to my business.”

  “Until he is a master,” Tiana said.

  “What? No.”

  She put her arm around him and squeezed back, adding a little Flair to make her point. He didn’t mind; any moment she had her hands on him was a good moment. “If . . . when . . . he masters his art, you will consider it. He is now in his apprenticeship. If he puts in the time to move from apprentice to journeyman to master, you will consider it.”

  “All right.” He stood. “Let’s go look at my masterpiece.” He’d brought the cathedral in under budget and under deadline. It had been open a month.

  “Let’s.”

  He stood and took her inside to the teleportation pad, and set the spellshields. He could hear the FamCats gorging in the kitchen on leftovers, and he sent telepathically, We are going to the cathedral now; then we will be at home.

  All right, said Pinky.

  All right, said Felonerb.

  Neither cat bothered to tell them whether he’d follow to the cathedral or not. Antenn reckoned they’d just lie quietly in the kitchen after their feasting until they got the energy to teleport again.

  He took a quick moment to study the aura of his office building. It wasn’t a sentient structure; maybe in a decade or two. The place was in CityCenter and at least three centuries old but hadn’t had a steady Family, owners, or renters in that time.

  Antenn had moved the incipient HeartStones to a secret safe when he’d rented the space, and added more from places that were self-aware, like T’Blackthorn and D’Elecampane Residences. Still, the atmosphere felt . . . as satisfied as Antenn and Tiana were. Pleased. Proud. Good qualities to have in HeartStones, and he sent a little Flair to them.

  Then he stepped behind Tiana, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her against his body to teleport. She leaned back and put her hands on his.

  They ’ported to one of the designated areas outside, near the vital adult door and arm of the cathedral. The building rose, impressive, elegant against the hot blue summer sky, bathed in the white light of Celta’s sun. They stood for a moment and looked at the wide window and two tiny towers of this entrance.

  “Beautiful,” Tiana breathed.

  “Yes.” Pride filled him; he thought it might exude from his every pore. He’d designed this, helped build it, and the structure matched the vision he’d seen in his mind. Mighty, graceful, a spiritual sanctuary that reflected the Intersection of Hope religion which would last for centuries.

  Without another word, and hand in hand, they entered.

  The last sunshine beaming through the tracery of the clerestory windows filled the cathedral with gorgeous light, accenting the art within—the sculptures and, most importantly, the four magnificent holo murals. One or two windows had clear glass replaced with brightly colored stained glass, the current continuing project of the Hopefuls to embellish their cathedral.

  Already, a reverence imbued the very stones of the building, dusted the atmosphere with a sensation unique to the Intersection of Hope folk, as individual as their chants and their incense. But all visitors would feel that this was a cherished holy place.

  The cathedral had become a small tourist attraction, an outing for people living in Druida, and a Hopeful staffed the structure around the clock, usually a volunteer. This evening, GraceLady Quina D’Mugwort guided people through the building, explaining her religion and the meaning of the art. Each visitor received a free pamphlet on the Intersection of Hope faith and was asked to make a small donation for the tour.

  The four awe-inspiring holo murals of the godhead—two male and two female—drew the eye and had been brilliantly executed with great Flair by a new convert, Avellana Hazel.

  As they proceeded down the transept, the cathedral cat, a slinky all-black tom, greeted them.

  He leapt at Tiana, fully confident that she would catch him, and she did.

  “Are you happy here?” she asked, petting him.

  “Yesss,” he vocalized, then slitted his eyes and settled into her arms with a purr.

  Along the inner walls of the arm representing the eldest were small rooms for the ministers and the volunteers to relax, sleep, even eat. The guardian spirit arm held rooms for counseling; the vital
adult wing had tiny individual meditation stalls.

  Though Antenn could hear Tiana’s mother’s lifted voice as she pointed out the beauty of a sculpture, they didn’t interrupt her, but continued to the center of the cathedral and stopped near the altar.

  He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and soaking in the ambience, breathing deeply and steadily. Then, opening his lashes, he looked—for the first time without a critical eye—at the beauty the artisans of Druida had achieved in stone carving and wood carving, statues, painting—holo and two-dimensional. He glanced down at the painted flagstones and simply breathed in wonder. This, too, was the first time he just let himself experience the full structure as a building. Not a project he’d designed and helped construct, but a space he walked into, as one of many.

  Breathtaking. Blood began to pound through him and he folded over, hands on his knees, head down, gasping.

  “What is it?” Tiana asked. He heard the thump as the cat landed on the floor, saw a black tail and rump sashay away in offense.

  “I. Did. This.”

  “Yes?”

  He straightened enough to show her his trembling hands. “I designed this and it’s built and . . .”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Yes. Full of wondrous items, saturated with wonder.” White spots danced before his eyes, sparking and fading as he dragged in breath after breath. He thought the blood had drained from his head to settle in his belly and upset it. Tiana embraced him, pressed her warmth to his chill body. As designed, the cathedral kept scorching summer air out.

  As designed.

  He’d conceived of the building.

  He’d drawn it.

  He’d done it. Built a cathedral that would keep his name alive for centuries. Achieved one of the major goals of his life. And as he hung on to his wife, his HeartMate, joy sizzled through him that an even more precious goal had been obtained, he’d found his woman.