Heart Fate

by Robin D. Owens

  Because it was the truth, Tinne said nothing.

  “There are three more questions we could ask, but I don’t think they are necessary, do you?”

  “Anything to get this over with,” Tinne muttered.

  “Please, sit.”

  Before he turned, he surreptitiously wiped his forehead with his arm, letting the sleeve absorb dampness. Then moved to the edge of the chair.

  “The next part of the examination will test your sexuality. I’ve conducted many HeartMate and wife findings, so anything you might experience I’ve seen before.”

  “You mean orgasm.”

  Four

  “That’s right, orgasm.” Saille smiled, and Tinne didn’t trust it. The smile was more charming than his Mamá’s or brother’s when they were being devious.

  Tinne hated these tests, and to be told that the next one might induce a sexual release just so he could be studied shivered his bones. His heart was simply torn. He wanted Genista and his marriage— but he wanted them the way they were in the past, before the loss of the baby, and that simply would not happen. That life was gone forever, and the pain of it lingered.

  But to divorce—that would smear his and the Family’s reputation for generations in many ways—from losing clients at The Green Knight to having other Families preferring not to marry into the Holly Family.

  But to insist Genista remain married to him and bound to his Family when she didn’t want to—no. Not an honorable choice.

  All he knew, now, was that he wanted these tests over.

  Tinne smiled back, a ferocious smile, mocking the insincere one Saille had given him.

  Saille shook his head. “Very well, you are not pleased. I can construct the next examination to take place privately.”

  Heat rose to Tinne’s face. “Thank you.” His nerves twanged, and he banished thought and controlled the fear the best way he knew how, executing the last, most difficult fighting pattern. When he’d finished and was breathing hard, Saille walked in front of him and bowed; as he would after sparring, Tinne bowed back.

  Then Saille gestured to the comfortchair, which was tilted back and hovering two feet above the ground. Tinne winced but climbed back into it. He hated it more than the starship lifepod, and that had been the worst experience of his life.

  Until Genista had come into his rooms this morning.

  The windows darkened and the light dimmed more than it did when the Healers did their tests.

  “Just relax,” Saille said.

  “I’ve heard that too often this morning.”

  “I’m sure. Could you hold this please?” Saille handed Tinne a memorysphere, empty and ready to record. Bad enough that he was being tested, but to have his emotions recorded was horrible.

  “I’ll be writing my report immediately after we’re done,” Saille said. “The memorysphere will be destroyed in two septhours, maximum.”

  “Promise?” Tinne asked thickly. The orb was throbbing under his fingers, a drum rhythm he often played, sending him again to that still center of himself.

  “I promise,” Saille said. “Close your eyes and center yourself.”

  Tinne did. This time he went deep. To the forest at midday, light and shadow dancing on an emerald bed of permamoss where he lay, watching the leaves, the peeks of deep blue sky. Everything was wonderful here. A sigh escaped him.

  Saille’s voice slipped into Tinne’s world, but didn’t disrupt it. “I want you to think of love. More, I want you to know love, experience it.”

  Tinne distantly heard a door close.

  Think of love. The words dropped like floating leaves in a breeze upon Tinne. The air of the summer’s day enveloped him.

  Love. His mother was the first scene, her cradling him as a child, which segued into scene after scene of his boyhood. More of her came, the scent of her, his love for her that was returned. His father joined her.

  His father—images, feelings, of just his father and him in the fighting salons. His respect and love for his father.

  Holm, his brother. How proud he was to be the brother of the gilded HollyHeir Holm. So dashing and bright and charming. Holm who even let him win in a few of their fighting lessons, Holm’s surprise and hoot of laughter when Tinne had beaten him fair and square.

  All the mixture of loving Family memories, far and recent past, the strong link that had been broken and mended to be even more powerful.

  Except for Genista’s.

  Genista. The sexy, fun beauty men panted after. The woman whose Family disapproved of her and didn’t understand. The sizzling glances, the unexpected vulnerability in her eyes when he’d asked her to marry him. It had been a marriage of convenience, but he’d kept all his promises. He had learned to love her, worked hard at the marriage, had thought of only her as his mate, and forgotten his HeartMate.

  Love for the unborn child within Genista. His child. The hope of the Holly Family, which was lost, so soon after.

  Clouds had scudded over the trees, blocking the sun, darkening the sky. It must be raining, because his face was wet.

  Genista. That was both Saille’s voice in his mind and Tinne’s sad internal murmur of her name. She was receding. He’d tried to keep her close, pull her near, but she wouldn’t let him.

  Rejection. Hurt. More pain. A shielding of his own emotions against her.

  Think of love, experience love. Another urging by Saille that had Tinne rolling to his side on the moss, letting its softness cushion him. The sun was back, highlighting tiny pastel flowers in the emerald carpet that was just beginning to bloom.

  And he wasn’t alone. There was another, a girl not quite a woman. Naive and innocent in many ways. An instinctive wave of tenderness swept from him to her. She was sad, too, hurt, too. The rain had touched her.

  He didn’t look at her closely, didn’t even pull her name from the depths of him that he’d closed off. But he took her in his arms.

  Love. Yes. This was love, the holding and being held. Having someone’s body fit your own, giving you strength when you were weak, sharing.

  The good moments before inevitable heartbreak. It rained. Then rain turned to snow.

  At first Lahsin’s dreams were vague. Then anxiety peaked and she was running, running, running, just as she really had. She tore her clothes and scratched her skin as she plunged into a thicket, but the thorns grew around her, shielding her, keeping her safe. When she turned to face the wall, there was not one, but a choice of three doors. Each different. One a rectangular light blue stone door with a white marble surround, the middle a pointed arch of gnarly wood with hanging green vines, the third less a door than a white, shining portal.

  As she shifted from foot to foot trying to make a decision, the gray mist got heavier, and she descended farther into sleep.

  After a while, as she lay dreaming, the weather warmed and strong arms encircled her, tender arms urged her close to a man’s muscled body. She sighed and smiled. Gentle hands stroked her, palms with tough skin, not the pampered smoothness of T’Yew’s. They touched her hair, smoothed. Arms holding her close.

  The scent of man rose to her nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose. No. She didn’t want a man. Not now, not ever. But he was against her, his arms around her, his feet tangled with hers.

  No! She thrashed, trying to escape. The arms let her go. Not enough. She couldn’t breathe. Heat throbbed through her. Hot, hotter, hottest. Too hot. She was burning! She screamed.

  And swallowed water.

  She flailed her arms and legs, felt water—hot water—drag at her sodden clothes. She coughed. The water wasn’t unpleasant.

  But the disorientation and fear were.

  She shook her head, and the cold slap of wind sobered her. Though she knew the springs were warm around her, chill bit deep, and she shivered with cold and could almost feel her lips turning blue. She saw nothing, blinked, still nothing.

  She mewled and spit out water, yet the taste of herbs stayed on her tongue. The sound of her own rough bre
athing, the pounding of her heart caught her attention.

  Breathe. Center.

  Slowly the coldness ebbed, being replaced once again by the hot water, until she thought it would sear her skin.

  Fever. Chills.

  Finally she understood what was happening. Another incident of spiking Flair. A precursor of her Second Passage.

  She bit her lip, and the small pain cleared the last of the fog from her brain. She discovered she’d been right, she was in the hot springs Healing pool. In FirstGrove. Safe, for now.

  Her hair was plastered to her head, but she was standing, not swimming. She’d moved to where the water hit her just below her breasts. Chill air was beginning to penetrate the mist of the pool. The wind was rising again. Was snow on the way as one of the guardsmen had predicted?

  Neither of the men had sounded very knowledgeable about anything else. Perhaps he was wrong.

  A strange rumbling-grunting drew her attention.

  Once again that morning she kept perfectly still.

  They’d been right about the beast.

  Five

  The creature was huge. No, that was her fear magnifying it. Large. Doglike, though she hadn’t seen many dogs; none that looked like this, large with a long muzzle and sharp teeth and gray matted hair and big, mean yellow eyes. It stood on the mossy peninsula projecting into the pool where she’d lain. It moved a little, and she saw that one of its back legs was crippled, like the bone had broken and healed all wrong.

  Her heart began thumping hard again, her breathing quickened, and she made no effort to regulate them.

  Could the animal have pushed her into the pool? Or had she rolled in herself, in the throes of the little Passage fugue?

  Keeping its eyes on her, it lowered its nose to a heap on the ground.

  Lahsin took a few steps back, considered swimming to the other side of the pool or the far end. Then her heart gave another jolt as she realized what the dog-thing was investigating. Her bag! It tore at her sack, pawed at it, found her food, and gobbled it down.

  “No!” she shouted. It stared at her and growled, still eating.

  She hurried to the rim of the pool, now waist level, and sent a spume of water at the dog. Only a small spray hit it. A louder, threatening growl.

  Helplessly, she watched it rip all the softleaves from the food she’d packed and eat it. She could count its ribs, and it looked scrawny and crippled, so she knew it was hungry, starving perhaps. But that was all her food!

  She didn’t dare lever herself out of there, not when she’d be wet and vulnerable, so she splashed toward the steps about two meters away from the mossy area and climbed the few stairs.

  The dog lifted his snout, growled again, then awkwardly backed away from her sack and the pool. She watched it disappear into the brush beyond an arbor.

  Then she discovered she was shivering in the winter air.

  Snow began to fall. Fast. In big, fat, icy flakes.

  Slowly Tinne rose from the trance. Slowly, because he knew that once he reached full consciousness, emotional pain would attack like a ravening wolf, and he’d have to force his tired brain to think.

  But his eyelashes lifted, and as they did, the room brightened from dimness to the pearl gray of a winter’s day. Snowfall obscured the landscape. He longed to return to his summer afternoon in the forest. He blinked and swallowed hard and must have made some noise, because Saille glanced up from the desk where he was writing and smiled at Tinne. “You’re back.”

  Saille rose and picked up a glass filled with water and sprigs of mint and brought it to Tinne. “May I have that?” He nodded at the memorysphere.

  Tinne handed it to Saille, noticing shifting wisps inside it—green, gray, white. There was no red for lust, and Tinne was infinitely relieved that he hadn’t had a sexual release.

  He had no doubt T’Willow, the premiere matchmaker on Druida, knew Tinne had been whirled into a dream of his HeartMate instead of Genista. That the dream had had no sex.

  That Tinne couldn’t even think of Genista and sex anymore.

  He finally admitted that was the true sign that his marriage was ruined.

  Saille’s expression saddened. “I’m sorry.”

  Tinne didn’t meet his glance. “Genista.” He had to stop and clear his throat. “Genista was right. Her tests, and now mine. So far they reveal that we are no longer a couple.”

  “It’s rare that I see a splintered marriage. Those who have one don’t come to me for help, though they should.”

  Tinne snorted, muttered, “You and D’Sea.”

  “I prefer couples happy in their marriage, yes.” Saille smiled again. “Especially now that I’m so happy in my own HeartBond.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Tinne studied him. It hadn’t been easy for Saille T’Willow to find and win his HeartMate. He’d even sent his HeartGift circulating with minimal shields throughout the city. Just the idea of rough fingers handling his HeartGift made Tinne shudder. Saille had also overcome the results of his lady’s kidnapping and attempted murder.

  “Was it worth it?” Tinne asked.

  With lifted brows, Saille said, “Was everything I suffered last year worth the delight of the HeartBond? Yes. Of course.” Since the man’s face had lit with pleasure, Tinne figured it wasn’t just a line of patter to reassure clients.

  Saille sent him a direct look. “You may learn that yourself.”

  Of course Saille knew Tinne had a HeartMate, many in the FirstFamilies circle knew. Knew she was wed to another. Knew he’d wed another. Fated to be apart.

  But this man would know who she was just by looking at Tinne. It was part of Saille’s Flair.

  A soft tap came on the door, a low voice. “You done?”

  Saille sent a last commiserating glance at Tinne, said, “I’ll see you later,” and opened the door.

  T’Heather tramped in, followed by D’Sea.

  “Yes or no?” asked T’Heather.

  Saille stiffened. “I’ll send you my full report later.”

  But the Healer exuded authority. “A quick generalization now would help us.”

  “Yes, the marriage is beyond repair,” Saille said. He inclined his head to T’Heather, then to D’Sea, and left.

  More tests.

  More pain.

  Lahsin’s will nearly broke.

  Cold, alone with a feral animal, no food, no shelter. What was she going to do? When had she ever spent a night outdoors? A few summer nights in the manicured garden at the country estate, in the children’s section, completely safe.

  She had no food, perhaps enough gilt for supplies that would last a few days. She couldn’t imagine creeping out of this place to steal in the city. She’d never be good at that, she’d be caught. Would the garden let her in if she were a thief?

  Her stomach rumbled, emphasizing her problem. She shut down the panic. She would manage. She’d escaped, hadn’t she?

  Blinking away snow that stuck to her lashes, she squinted, blinked again, recognized the corner of a garden shed. She straightened her shoulders, gritted her teeth, tucked her hands in her opposite armpits, and struggled out of the pool.

  With cold, stiff fingers she picked up her belongings—the pouch with her gilt and the necklace, her clothes—and shoved them in the sack. She shook out her hooded cape and drew it on, but it was damp and not much help against the wind and cold.

  She thought she saw another building, perhaps a tower, in the distance beyond the snow, but she was too cold already to explore. If she caught her ankle in a hole and broke it, fell to the ground, and lay while snow covered her, what would happen? Would the power of FirstGrove prevent her from dying? She didn’t know and certainly didn’t want to find out.

  She headed toward the garden shed. Hadn’t she heard an old story about someone living in a garden shed? T’Yew had snorted, his lip had curled, he’d said it showed the nature of the man, that he would never match the greatness of his Father’sFather. He was a disgrace to his title. A FirstFa
milies Lord, then, but whoever he was, he’d survived in a garden shed. Lahsin would do no less.

  Maybe it would have some food. She couldn’t hope for a no-time, a food storage unit that kept food exactly the way it was placed inside, but there might be dried vegetables. She could survive on dried vegetables.

  This place was very old, perhaps there was an antique kitchen garden run as wild as everything else. And there was the hot spring for water. Herbs and plants for tisanes she could make that would strengthen her.

  First she had to get out of the cold. She shambled to the small building, each footstep hard, because she couldn’t quite feel her feet.

  She circled the shed twice, thrashing through underbrush, before she saw the door indicated by a handle and hinges and a small crack. The building wasn’t large, about three meters square. How could she unlock the door? She sensed it wouldn’t simply open for her as the door to the garden had. A long, rumbling growl made the hair on the back of her neck rise. Centimeter by centimeter, she slowly turned her neck to the left. Sheltering under the overhang of the roof corner was the beast.

  It growled again. Praying and sending an open! spell, Lahsin pressed the cold, cold latch and shoved quick and hard, and fell into a musty-scented place. She turned and slammed the door shut.

  Then she slid down the wall. Just getting out of the cold and wind made her feel better. Feeling came back to her feet, first in stinging prickles, then true pain, and she gritted her teeth and moaned between them.

  She wondered what spells the shed might have. “Light,” she said, and the grime on the one small window lessened. A very weak glow came from a ceiling spell. Not much.

  “Heat,” she said. Nothing, not even the tiniest brush of Flair to indicate a spell embedded in the building.

  Shivering, she stripped and spread out her wet clothes. Lady and Lord knew how long it would take for them to dry. Then she tried another spell, a simple one. “Dry!” A small warmth fluttered around her halfheartedly. It was the very last of her Flair for septhours, but it might be enough to do the job by evening.