Heart Sight

by Robin D. Owens

  “Lady and Lord,” Perna sobbed. She held Floricoma close and rocked her.

  Muin gestured to the baby. “I don’t know whether those who oppose Avellana—or me—would prefer Floricoma as my heir or not, but the truth is that she has Flair enough to be D’Vine.”

  Bicknell cursed, using words that made Avellana’s eyes go wide.

  Pulling his perscry stone from his trous pocket, Muin said, “I will send for bodyguards tonight, not Vine guards, but people from the Holly fighting Family’s Green Man Salon in Gael City. Two guards each for every shift, and multiple shifts. They will guard you until the villains are found.”

  “Wait!” Bicknell demanded. He placed his hands over Perna’s and stared into her eyes. Avellana deduced they communicated mentally.

  A couple of moments later, Bicknell said, “We live outside a small town where strangers would be reported. We have good neighbors who will keep an eye out.” His lips firmed. “We will not invite anyone from the Family to visit.” He sucked in a breath. “We would prefer to keep this whole . . . situation . . . as quiet as possible.”

  Avellana felt relief flow from Muin, though his expression did not show the emotion. So he wished the same.

  “You’ve just been on a trip, right, here and there”—Bicknell waved a hand—“and not staying long, and—”

  “That’s right,” Muin said. He shifted his weight, pulling her hand through the crook of his arm. “We’ve rarely stayed more than a day at a friend’s house. I can let it be known, truthfully, that your sister requested I be Oracle at Floricoma’s birth. I agreed out of courtesy. We stayed tonight to welcome the new Vine babe, then moved on. No one in this area except you and the midwife-Healer would know of Floricoma’s Flair.”

  Bicknell stared at the door. “You’re a FirstFamily GreatLord, you could ruin our midwife’s life.”

  Muin shrugged.

  In a small voice, Perna said, “We trust her.”

  “I have followed your wishes all evening, Bicknell and Perna. I won’t call the Holly guards unless you approve, and I won’t harm the midwife-Healer unless you inform me that she harmed you in some manner.”

  “Good.” Bicknell’s cheeks puffed out as he exhaled. “That’s good.”

  “However,” Muin continued. The others tensed. “Until a few minutes ago, no one in the Family had enough Flair for prophecy to be my heir. That makes the Family uneasy, and the FirstFamilies, too, I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yeah,” Bicknell said at the same time Perna said, “Yes.”

  Thirty-two

  The babe must be officially acknowledged as my heir.” Vinni took a small pad of papyrus from his jacket pocket, ripped out a sheet, and walked to the old table that held a writestick. Placing the papyrus piece down, he put his fingertips on it and enlarged and changed the consistency so it became official size. Then he picked up the writestick and touched the point to the cream-colored sheet. Concentrating, he forced ink from the pen, shaping the words into a flowing script as he imprinted them by will onto the paper, changing the color of the font as needed in three places and adding a touch of gold in the twining blackberry leaves and fruit that bordered the whole page. With a grunt, he lifted his hand and tapped his forefinger on the page to engrave his official seal on the document.

  Then he moved to the scry panel and placed his hand on the frame. “Scry T’Ash.”

  Bicknell and Perna gasped. Avellana grinned, then let out an “Ooooh!”

  “T’Ash here, who is this?” demanded a rough voice. “And why are you scrying so damn late?”

  Vinni moved into the center of the screen and donned his most formal manner. “GreatLord T’Ash, it is Muin T’Vine, and I am scrying you as my ally on an extremely important matter to me.”

  With a grunt, the man said, “Lightspell on.” The panel revealed a bare-chested T’Ash, then flickered black. When it relit, T’Ash wore a formal robe and stood in his ResidenceDen, where he kept his Flair Testing Stones.

  “Yeah, Vinni—ah, Muin?” T’Ash’s gaze went beyond Vinni to Avellana, and even farther, to Bicknell and Perna.

  “T’Ash, please allow me to present to you my cuzes, Bicknell and Perna Vine, who are HeartBonded to each other.”

  “Greetyou,” the GreatLord said gruffly.

  “As the Prophet of Celta”—and with those words, T’Ash’s expression turned serious and his body seemed to expand—“and acting as the Oracle of Celta, I hereby acknowledge that the female babe Perna delivered this evening, Floricoma Vine, has sufficient Flair in prophecy to be my heir, and I am so naming her that.”

  “I hear you,” T’Ash said.

  Vinni held up the piece of papyrus so T’Ash could see it. “I have set my intention, my hand, and my seal on this document.”

  “Why do you call on me as an ally?”

  “You are my strongest and fiercest ally.”

  T’Ash looked pleased.

  “I am trusting you, and only you, with this secret. So that if anything happens to me, you will acknowledge before all and most particularly to the FirstFamilies Council and the Clerk of the All Councils that the child is my heir, the heir to the Vines, with the Flair to be the Prophet of Celta.”

  “And, as your ally, you wish me to defend these parents and the babe with my body and Family if anyone challenges your will or that document.”

  “Correct.”

  Inclining his head, T’Ash said, “I understand and I accept that charge.”

  “I am translocating this document to your cache transnow. I will keep the scry open until I know that you have received it. I also want you to confirm the receipt of the document, date it and countersign it, and safeguard it.”

  “I can do that. It would be better to have additional witnesses,” T’Ash said. He raised his voice. “Danith?”

  The small woman immediately appeared next to her lord. Vinni blinked that she’d teleported so close to her HeartMate, knew exactly where he stood. That demonstrated a huge amount of trust on both their parts—trust only HeartMates of long standing would give each other. And Vinni believed neither of them had given such teleportation a thought, they did it so often. He wanted that trust and familiarity for himself and Avellana.

  Danith D’Ash gazed at them from the scry panel. “You want us to be your Fail-Safe people, so that we know your wishes.”

  “That’s right.”

  She waved a hand and the document he’d wafted to T’Ash Residence cache floated onto a desk near them. Then she placed her hand on the papyrus and said, “I hereby accept the charge for myself and my Family to protect and defend the child of Bicknell and Perna Vine, who is acknowledged by the present Muin T’Vine to be his current heir.”

  Grumbling that Danith had set her seal first, T’Ash followed suit.

  “That’s two Ash signatories,” Danith said. She raised her voice. “T’Ash Residence, have you been attending to our conversations with regard to this matter of our alliance with the Vine Family?”

  “I have,” came a voice so resonant that it made the glass of the scry panel vibrate. “I am keeping this in my memory as a Familial charge. All of us Ashes will know of this and fulfill such a charge. If the situation deteriorates to needing to be proven before the FirstFamilies Council, I will reveal my memories of this night to the other Residences. If we need to call upon others in our circle of alliances to keep this promise, I will confirm the events of this night.”

  Vinni bowed. “Thank you, all.”

  T’Ash grunted. “When do you think this whole situation will get done, Vinni?”

  Vinni said, “I’ve been keeping in touch with Garrett Primross, Captain of the Druida Guards Ilex Winterberry, and others.” Vinni felt the tightness of his Flair and spoke without hesitation. “No more than two and a half weeks, by Discovery Day.”

  “Very well.” T’Ash frowned. “Do you
wish us to house the Vines? We have the house room.”

  Glancing at Bicknell and Perna, Vinni saw them shake their heads.

  “We love where we are,” Perna whispered.

  “We would prefer to keep everything secret,” Bicknell added.

  Avellana began, “This is—”

  “—a contingency scenario,” Danith ended, nodding. “All is well, now let’s go back to bed and get some sleep.” But from her smile at T’Ash, Vinni didn’t think Danith had sleep in mind. “Merry meet.” She began the ending formalities.

  “And merry part.” Everyone in the room with Vinni said the next line.

  “And merry meet again,” T’Ash growled, and ended the scry.

  “There, that’s done. My wishes are known and the secret of them will be kept and is understood and protected by the most determined member of the FirstFamilies that I know.” Satisfaction, even a slight giddiness suffused Vinni, but he didn’t know why. He blinked away the emotion, the weariness, the odd feeling of lightness, and turned to Bicknell and Perna. Bicknell had risen but appeared wild-eyed, as if he’d been swept along by events that had sent an earthquake through his life, changing it. True enough. Like Vinni, he’d have to learn to master an impassive expression when that happened.

  Perna breathed rhythmically, humming and soothing the babe.

  Then Bicknell’s jaw firmed and he matched gazes with Vinni. “T’Ash will guard our daughter?”

  “And you and your wife. Absolutely feel free to contact them at any time. They have staff, guards, and adult children who have the range to teleport here and back to Druida City with you.”

  Bicknell sat and slumped in his chair. “That’s good, then.”

  “All my allies will guard you if T’Ash calls them in. None of our relatives will prevail against your claim for your daughter, should you need to make it.”

  A disgusted noise came from both husband and wife. “That’s what you think.”

  Vinni frowned.

  Avellana straightened beside him. “We do have allies, and not all of those allies are as old as T’Ash. Many have more in common with us.” She stared at them intensely and Vinni felt them snagged by that gaze, open to her words. “We know Loridana D’Yew, who recently challenged her Family and won the title and who now heads that household very well. If you need to understand your options and techniques for doing the same, you should call on her.”

  “Or Saille T’Willow,” Vinni said with a grimace. “He knows that, too.”

  “Oh,” Perna said in a tiny voice, then sagged against the pillows behind her.

  After a quiet breath, Avellana asked, “May I hold Floricoma?”

  The parents exchanged a glance.

  “Not for long,” Avellana assured. “A moment or two. I have not seen her.”

  “Yes,” sighed Perna.

  Avellana strode to the bed and took the sleeping baby from Perna. Vinni couldn’t help it, he sauntered to Avellana’s side drawn by the huge and unconditional love she felt. He made sure that all three of the other Vines received Avellana’s feeling down their shared bonds. She wouldn’t be formally linked to his Family until they HeartBonded or wed.

  Vinni was pretty sure they’d HeartBond first.

  After a minute of cooing into smoky blue eyes that stared up at them, Avellana sighed and held out Floricoma to her father, who took her and continued the coos in a deeper voice.

  Perna said, “About Floricoma being your heir . . .”

  “Yes?” Vinni asked.

  “No offense,” Perna said, “but as I said before, we are happy here and would not care to move to Druida City. We want to raise her here, outside the pressures of the city and those who’d watch and judge us.”

  Vinni suppressed a flinch. He and Avellana knew about always being watched and judged. But he’d not had the option of living anywhere but T’Vine Residence.

  “I understand, but your child will be great in Flair and will need to be taught,” he replied.

  “By you,” Bicknell said heavily.

  Vinni dipped his head. “That would be best, though due to the strength and potency of our Family gift, we have many manuals and people who help train, including the HouseHeart. After all, I inherited the title at six years old.”

  Both husband and wife shuddered.

  Drawing in a breath, he released it slowly and raised a hand, palm out. “However, since you have given me this wonderful boon, I will pledge to come here several days a month to teach your child.”

  “GreatLord, you will do that?” Perna’s voice trembled in disbelief.

  He smiled simply, sincerely. “Yes.”

  The ramifications of this gift pressed at his mind, but he couldn’t allow them to derail his thinking right now. Later, later, later.

  “You should call me Vinni.”

  Avellana sniffed.

  He slanted a look to her. “Only my HeartMate calls me ‘Muin,’ and occasionally some older Family members when they are displeased with me.”

  The couple shared a glance. “We will.”

  Bicknell added gruffly, “You are welcome to stay here in the main house at any time, both of you.”

  “Thank you. If you will excuse us now, we will settle into the cottage. We’ll leave you with your new daughter.”

  “Sounds great,” Bicknell said, sitting on the bedsponge and holding his daughter and HeartMate.

  With a full bow to them, GreatLord to those of his equal, because the babe would be his equal, Vinni held out his hand to Avellana and she clasped his fingers. He hoped he masked his heated and lusty reaction to her, another surge of unexpected emotion.

  They left the room, then the manor, walking the short distance to the cottage. Avellana suppressed a sigh.

  She would have liked to stay a day or two, to see Muin bond with the baby, and perhaps try to bond with the child herself. Instead, she said, “We will leave tomorrow as if this stop were a mere courtesy.”

  “Yes,” Muin replied.

  “We will visit the village and buy a gift for the babe to be sent here, then continue our trip to Gael City.” She squeezed his hand.

  He relaxed and pressed her fingers. “We won’t endanger the child. I’m going to call in some of Garrett Primross’s feral animals as observers, and I have a friend with a place near here who can house some guards.”

  She exhaled as fear twisted inside her. “We will never endanger that beautiful baby.”

  “No.”

  “And you think that by Discovery Day we will have resolved this bad situation.”

  He lifted her hand to his and kissed her fingers. “Absolutely.” When he smiled her heart squeezed in her chest. “And we’ll invite the whole small family, Bicknell, Perna, and Floricoma, to celebrate New Year’s, Samhain, with us.”

  “I felt when you sensed our problems would be resolved.”

  Muin’s smile appeared sincere. “I can work around my—and your—future, indirectly. If I can find people who share our futures. That’s the case of baby Floricoma. She gave me a timeline for our troubles.” He released a gusty breath. “Good to know.”

  “Our issues will be gone by Discovery Day,” Avellana repeated, to get the notion set in her head. Then she let her shoulders drop in relief. She stared at him, his lips slightly curled in a smile she did not understand, though she liked the slight dampness of their clasped hands, and decided to be direct. She had learned that saved time, and if she hurt Muin emotionally, she could soothe him one way or another.

  “Your emotions are—unruly. As is your Flair control.” She could sense the wild firestorm within him, exultation, exhaustion. Joy, guilt at the joy, an edge of fear. She had blocked him a bit to keep her own emotions steady.

  He laughed, choked it into a chuckle. “You mean you aren’t used to my lack of control and unruly emotions for any
thing other than loving with you.”

  Her mouth had fallen open and she shut it. “Your . . . our emotions during loving are, ah, not standard . . .” She waved. “But they, ah, have a certain rise and fall . . . a pattern.”

  Picking her up, he swung her around, yet laughing, then placed her on her feet, linking fingers with her. “Yes, maybe a certain pattern to our loving. We’ll change it around when we wed and love more in person than in dreams.”

  She swallowed. “Oh.”

  He turned his head so his gleaming gaze looked back to the manor. “They can see us, and they can see the gardens of the cottage and the small house itself.”

  “We do not care.” She squeezed his hand.

  “No.” He glanced down at her.

  “Your emotions still explode.”

  “Yes.”

  “Though your voice and expression remain . . . cool. I have been with you when you have exercised your Flair satisfactorily, and this . . . giddiness of yours is more.”

  “Giddiness.” He snorted. They had reached the white picket fence surrounding the cottage. Instead of opening the gate, he lifted her over, then vaulted over himself.

  He took her hand, held it in a dance form, and flicked as if he wanted her to turn under his arm. So she did.

  “Check our bond,” he said agreeably.

  Focusing inward, she considered the large glowing cable, then gasped. “It has changed!”

  “Yes,” he said. He’d picked up on the change in their bond—after she’d pointed out how his feelings roiled. No, the result of being the Oracle for Floricoma’s birth had affected him like no other.

  He wanted to dance, and with his love in this small grassyard of a Vine cottage. So he moved in dance steps to music and sent the tune he heard mentally to her.

  She replied telepathically, You feel odd, inside.

  “Yes,” he responded aloud, finally figuring out why. One more step and he picked her up again, spun her to the dance, put her down on the right beat.

  He let the exuberance infuse them both. “Do you realize that since I became T’Vine at six, I have never had a good heir until now? A Family member I knew had the Flair to become the next Prophet of Celta?” His cheer caused his voice to lilt and he didn’t care. He opened his arms wider than the dance decreed, though he kept to the steps. “A burden has fallen away from me. I don’t have to be as careful with myself.”