Heart Fate

by Robin D. Owens

  Tinne heard her. “What?”

  She projected her voice. “Upon coming of age, I, Lahsin Rosemary Burdock, repudiate my underage marriage with Ioho T’Yew. Upon coming of age, I, Lahsin Rosemary Burdock, repudiate my underage marriage with Ioho T’Yew. Upon coming of age, I, Lahsin Rosemary Burdock, repudiate my underage marriage with Ioho T’Yew.”

  To her surprise Tinne jerked like a puppet whose strings were pulled. Ilexa hissed and jumped away, tail whipping.

  “You can’t tell me that,” he said, his voice rough.

  She stared in amazement, hurt. The dog’s rumble became louder, longer, more threatening.

  The cat lifted her muzzle. Her nose twitched as if smelling something bad. We will go now. She disappeared, and Tinne shook his head like she’d given him a head blow. He raised both hands palms-out in a helpless gesture.

  Tears started behind Lahsin’s eyes, she whirled and bolted down a cleared path toward the Residence.

  She’d thought he was her friend. Her only friend. Fligger it. The whole situation. He was just a man who was using contact with her to ease his own pain.

  Like she was?

  She didn’t want to be reasonable so she shoved the thought aside, set her jaw, and quickly regretted it as she stumbled over a root and her teeth jarred. But it got her brain working. Maybe she’d read the rules wrong. Maybe like other laws she had to make the announcement to a Lady or Lord with Great or Grand or Grace before their name. Tinne was only a SecondSon, a GreatSir by courtesy, Noble in his birth, but without a real title of his own and she didn’t see him testing for his own title. He valued his Family even though they were maddening him. He loved them, and they loved him. They were maddening because they loved him.

  Once Lahsin would have said her Family loved her, but now she sincerely doubted it.

  Another strange idea buzzed. Could she test and take a new title? Become a GraceLady in her own right? How lovely. She chuckled, then stopped. Her emotions were swinging again. She checked her inner health. No, Passage was not roiling up. She should be safe today. That was one question she could have asked Tinne, how often Passage surged. She might have gotten some sort of idea how often they occurred once they started.

  Tinne’s hurt of her still felt sharp, but, again, the man he was wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. Perhaps she had misremembered the rules or they’d changed.

  She’d better go back and ask.

  But of course when she reached the pool he was gone.

  All were gone.

  Loneliness struck.

  He’d hurt her. Tinne walked the twisty passages between the abandoned warehouses outside FirstGrove. Ilexa had prowled ahead to hunt rats, and Tinne was grateful. He wanted time alone. He’d wend his way to CityCenter, do a small ’port from a public building’s teleportation pad to the Turquoise House. Then he’d assign it the task of discreetly compiling information on Second Passage. That should keep the House busy and happy.

  But he’d seen tears in Lahsin’s eyes. He ground his teeth. She had surprised him, and he hadn’t thought quickly enough. Not that he could have said much. He couldn’t reveal he was her HeartMate. Maybe she’d think he believed he was an intimate friend?

  No.

  He hoped she didn’t puzzle out that he was her HeartMate. It would be awkward all around, and he wouldn’t feel right about returning to FirstGrove. And he wanted to. She needed to learn self-defense.

  He didn’t want anyone to put bruises on her ever again. This he could give her. If she showed up for their lesson tonight.

  Taking the long way back to the Residence, Lahsin put her conversation into perspective. There was time enough to repudiate her marriage after her Passage. That must be endured first.

  She had progressed in solving a problem. She’d asked Tinne about Passages. She hadn’t learned much that applied to herself, but she trusted him to bring more information that evening.

  Now if her body could only instinctively trust him not to hurt her, but that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Her mind would have to be in control there. So she said the phrase he’d given her. “I am allowed to hurt anyone trying to hurt me.”

  Tinne hadn’t meant to hurt her, had gone out of his way to reassure her. He could have already done a lot of things, the least of which was turning her over to T’Yew, the Burdocks, or a guardhouse. Instead it seemed like he’d help her.

  He’d looked as rough as she’d felt. Bad night, he’d said, and she worried a little over him. He hadn’t said anything about how his former wife might have hurt him. Hadn’t breathed a word about the loss of a child in the womb. Lahsin nibbled her lip. Maybe he was talking to others about those griefs, but she didn’t think so. He was probably squeezing them down into a corner of himself where he could ignore them, like a man would do.

  She shrugged, she couldn’t force him to talk about his hurts, just listen if he wanted to do so. If he bottled those hurts up inside, they wouldn’t explode on him. Unlike her own emotions that could shatter her during Passage. She must figure out a way through her own hurt.

  The soak had been her second of the day. She hadn’t made it to BalmHeal Residence until after a good plunge in the Healing pool. She’d used some of her Flair to wash her clothes in the corner of the pool near one of the drainage holes.

  The Residence hadn’t forgiven her for staying out all night, or for coming in after she’d obviously been to the pool. Strother had awkwardly risen from a corner of the kitchen and that had speared guilt through her. He couldn’t open the no-times by himself. Though she had some distant dreams the night before that he was ranging the estate following the Holly cat. A cat who hunted and left him newly killed prey and boasted and laughed. That might have been part of the Passage dream, but she didn’t think so. She sniffed, remembering their scents.

  So she’d given the dog a meal of furrabeast steak and had scrambled eggs for herself, had studied the antique storage cache and managed to program it to open twice a day for Strother . . . just in case. He hadn’t said anything to her, either.

  The chill on her face as she turned northeast warned of a new heavy snow. They’d been lucky in the garden with no snow sticking to the ground.

  She still hadn’t fully explored the estate, particularly the south. If more than a few inches of snow fell, she wouldn’t want to. Her current path was rough and overgrown, and she was tempted to use some more of her new well of Flair to clear it. Her Flair was developing, becoming stronger; it was a pond instead of a puddle. When she’d mastered Third Passage she could access a lake.

  The path and the rest of the estate would have to wait. The Residence needed a lot—plumbing and housekeeping spells, security spellshields, weathershields. No doubt it would tell her in great detail. She squared her shoulders when it came into view. “I am allowed to fight. I am allowed to hurt anyone who tries to hurt me.” Breathe and modify the phrase. “I’m allowed to be rude to those who are rude to me.” If she wanted a chandelier dropped on her head, or tooth marks on her person.

  Adult or not, some things had to be worked up to, and dealing with the Residence was one of those. Her step didn’t hesitate. If snow was coming, best make the place as livable as possible. But even before she entered the side door she imagined the grumpy, whining tone of the house battering her ears.

  The rest of the day went well for Tinne. After the swim, soak, and conversation with Lahsin, his mind and body cooperated. Tab gave him a grunt of praise at the end of the afternoon and dismissed him. His G’Uncle would take the weekly club night. He was looking forward to sparring with the members. Tinne had chuckled and shaken his head and left his mentor grinning. As the scandal faded slightly, some of the men who’d dropped their memberships had rejoined— at a greater rate. This was the first evening for new members of the lower nobility and middle class. As Tinne walked from the back private rooms through the main salon, he saw Cratag Maytree limbering up, eyeing Tab.

  Tab was eyeing him back.

  Tinne thought th
at particular new member would give Tab something to be busy and happy about.

  He stepped outside. Afternoon, and it was already dark. Yule and the lengthening of the days was still a couple of weeks away. This time of year weighed on his spirits.

  His driver was waiting, whistling. Tinne had slid in next to him before his cuz noticed. “Turquoise House, then if you want the glider for the evening, you can have it.”

  The man glanced at him. “Aren’t you sleeping in the HouseHeart?”

  “No.” Not until he could forget that he’d nearly surprised Holm and Lark last night.

  He’d never taken Genista to T’Holly HouseHeart, never made love to her there. Hadn’t even considered it, and guilt gnawed at him. How long was he going to feel this failure? Probably the rest of his life. It would fade, but now and again it would jump out from the shadows and bite him, like all deep regrets. He could only hope the sharp teeth would dull.

  With a dance of fingertips on the controls, his driver sent music lilting through the glider. More music written by his Mamá to soothe him. He gritted his teeth. Thankfully the man didn’t say a word or resume his whistling. As they approached the Turquoise House, the greeniron gates opened. Tinne hopped out, snapped down the door, gave the roof a thump.

  His cuz grinned, waved, then the music changed to a hard, charging beat. Tinne had no doubt that the man was going to take a woman for a ride.

  Tinne and Ilexa ate dinner, she boasting about how well she’d hunted the night before, what a chase she’d led the dog on. He grunted but didn’t comment.

  Then the Turquoise House spoke of its research into Second Passage. How it had mined information from the PublicLibrary, had requested data under the seal of a secret password through the library from HealingHalls’ Archives and even FirstFamily Residences. Tinne complimented it as he picked up three holospheres of information from the den’s cache, put them in his coat pocket, and took the newssheet from the delivery box.

  “Do you come back here tonight? T’Holly scwied to thay that you sshould th-sstay in the HouseHeart of your Family Residence.” The Turquoise House sounded as if disobeying T’Holly or the Family Residence would be a terrible sin.

  Tinne rolled his shoulders, tried to loosen up as he walked to the teleportation pad with Ilexa. “I’ll be back.” Couldn’t go to the HouseHeart tonight.

  Then he ’ported away and was gone from Family expectations and responsibilities. He stood before the door to FirstGrove, spirits rising. He was following his wishes, his expectations and responsibilities, and that made all the difference.

  Lahsin saw him as soon as he exited the hedgerow tunnel. Relief filtered through her. He’d come. He moved with fluid grace—Tinne Holly getting back into his stride.

  She still only had two changes of clothing, and she’d dressed in the loosest, as if it were grovestudy exercise time. In fact, as she’d changed, she recalled that midafternoon grovestudy exercises were some sort of defense moves, and she’d practiced them. Should have practiced them all along, she supposed, though they wouldn’t have done any good against T’Yew. He had had her in his power. She banished the thought and the past.

  Tinne set the newssheets and some memoryspheres on the bench, then took off his outer garments, and she saw the thin aura of his weathershield. A good weathershield. Better than hers . . . and she was nervous.

  He glanced at her, his gaze lingered. “Still interested in training?”

  Twenty-one

  “Yes.” She shifted from foot to foot. She didn’t want to talk about that afternoon. His tight face eased, as if he didn’t want to bring up the subject, either.

  He looked away and said, “I haven’t studied this area for the best place to train. We don’t want to fight on stone. That mossy place looks good.” He narrowed his eyes. “But there’s a decline toward the pool.” Hands on hips, he surveyed the place.

  “There’s permamoss beds in the far northwest of the garden,” she said, her voice only a little shaky.

  “I’ll look around, I’d like to stay near the pool, but we need clear space for physical exercise and for twinmoonslight.”

  She hadn’t thought of any of this! Hadn’t been prepared.

  His mouth quirked. “I should have thought of this earlier. I’ll have to cut some of that permamoss for matts, but not tonight. Tonight will be very gentle.” He loped off.

  She called, “The southeast pool area is mostly moss, too.”

  He nodded and headed in that direction.

  She was definitely less prepared than she’d anticipated. More anxious. Too bad. She’d just have to scrape up her courage. She was determined. She would learn how to defend herself. No one would make her a victim again.

  She tugged at the hem of her tunic, glanced at Tinne. He was stamping on the moss, then he did a fighting pattern, nodded again, and tumbled. Since she didn’t want to look away from him, wanted to watch his body move longer, she tore her gaze from him.

  The newssheet caught her eye, and she walked over to the bench. Tinne’s scent of man and recent soap rose from his clothes. Why was she so sensitive to him?

  Because he was the only person she’d spoken with for days. Because she would soon let him touch her.

  She glanced at the newssheet. Reward for the Return of Lahsin Yew to T’Yew, it screamed. Her nerves jittered when she saw the six-figure amount.

  Tinne put his hands on her shoulders, she jumped. “Easy.”

  But she twisted away, panting, and thought her eyes wheeled in fear. “They’ll catch me.” Her fists curled, but she kept them tight to her chest, didn’t strike out. “They know I haven’t left Druida, and if I go out, anyone who sees me will give me up for that amount of gilt.”

  “Breathe, Lahsin.” Tinne’s voice was calm. “If you look, you’ll see it’s the regional copy.”

  She was shaking her head. “That goes out in Druida, too.”

  “Balance, Lahsin!” His voice was sharper. “Ground yourself.”

  An old grovestudy command. She sank into her balance. Her hands fell to her sides, and she gulped in big, even breaths.

  “Good, you haven’t forgotten everything. If you have fear when you fight and direct it at yourself, you will freeze. If you direct it at your attacker, you will fight. Fight, Lahsin.”

  He was right about the freezing bit, she could barely think, only feel. Her fingers curled into fists. “I can’t.”

  “Yes. You. Can. What’s your phrase?”

  “I am allowed to hurt—”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Her insides twisted with fear. “He’ll hurt me more if I fight.”

  “When you fight, you will get hurt. Accept that.”

  “He hurt me more if I fought and screamed. He likes it. It excited him, and he’d hurt me more.”

  Tinne’s face set in grim lines, but he said, “You will not freeze. You will fight and strike and put him down and run away. That’s what I’ll teach you.”

  She wanted to believe him. Her terror was receding. She lifted her gaze to stare him in the eyes. They were fierce and determined. How she wished she could feel fierce and determined!

  “I can’t run. There was no place I could run.” She heard her fears and her reality spilling out of her mouth.

  Tinne swept an arm around them. “You ran. You’re here, and he can’t get you here.”

  She was cold, inside and out, she rubbed her arms. “If I fight, he hurts me worse. He likes to see me run, because there’s no place I can run to in the Residence that will hide me.”

  “You will fight, and you will hurt him. You will knock him down and run. You will scream. There is no door that can stop you, no window that will not open to you. You broke them, remember? Broke the full spellshield of a FirstFamily Residence, before your Passage. You won’t be leaving here until after your Passage when you have more Flair. Are you listening to me?”

  Her breath hitched with the hurt in her ch
est. “Yes.” She wrapped her arms around herself, sank to the bench, and rocked. Cried. Let the harsh sobs tear from her chest.

  For a moment Tinne looked wounded, too, as if he remembered his own hurt. He sidled to her, sat next to her, lifted his arm slowly, and put it around her shoulders. With his touch, she felt his emotions. Not nearly as calm as they seemed. He wasn’t tentative solely for her sake but for his own, too. He’d tried to comfort a woman in the depths of despair before and been rejected. And had taken those hurtful blows into himself.

  Lahsin leaned against him and wept, the night deepening around them, the steam rising from the Healing pool thickening until they were lost in a place of their own. As she cried, she sensed his own deep pain. Her hand came up to his chest, and it seemed as if she made a connection with him, cried for them both.

  When she went into a hiccuping aftermath, he handed her a large, clean softleaf from his pocket, then moved away.

  She scrubbed at her face and blew her nose. His back was to her. He looked toward the south, where they should have been training. “Do you still want your first lesson in self-defense?”

  His voice was expressionless, but his shoulders showed tension. She straightened her spine, cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  When he swung around there was approval in his eyes. “Good.” He sighed, and Lahsin heard relief.

  “Fighting, like everything else, is a matter of energy and balance. Most times when you are attacked, your assailant will be moving. The first thing you must do is keep him or her off balance, go in the direction he or she is moving. Then break his or her grip, strike, and scream, or scream as you strike, put him or her down and run away.” He walked to the mossy area, gesturing her to follow as he went into lecture mode.

  “We will practice moving attacks first.” He slid his gaze to her and took up a stance in the middle of the space. Lahsin had always thought of this as a resting area for patients. Its purpose had certainly changed!