Heart Journey (13 page)

The older man lifted the twisted metal of the ships from the box, a few clinks came when more broken bits fell off. He’d taken out
Arianrhod’s Wheel.
He pursed his lips, glanced back at Raz. “
Lugh’s Spear
is good?”

This time Raz winced. “It’s not as bad as these. I thought we might do the worst first.”

His father looked into the box and shook his head. “
Nuada’s Sword
is flattened beyond fixing.”

“I thought so, but you’re the expert.”

Stroking a finger along a battered piece of thin metal, his father said, “You’re as good at this as I am.” Again he cleared his throat. “Still have the little
Lugh’s Spear
you made as a HeartGift?”

Raz kept himself from stiffening, but tension tightened every nerve in his body. Someone at the Thespian Club had been talking. “You’ve heard something?” He kept his voice bland.

“That Trillia, real nice girl, is still friends with your sister. She called to say good-bye. Heard the scry myself.” Like most people, his father smiled at the thought of Trillia. “She was giggling that you’d be getting your HeartMate soon?”

With a sigh, Raz moved to the table, took the squashed
Nuada’s Sword
from the box, and set it aside. He had no doubt that his father would keep it somewhere, since it meant so much to the both of them, the hours they’d spent building the ship.

His father had a wide streak of sentimentality. Probably why he talked the way his transport workers did instead of the proper noble Celtan that he’d been brought up with. He identified with his job and the men and women who made and repaired and flew the airships. A very good thing. Raz was uncomfortably sure that his younger sister could swear the ears off him, too. The men and women in Cherry Shipping and Transport were tough.

To his surprise, he thought of D’Elecampane. She was tough, too. Had that innate self-sufficiency and confidence that she knew her craft well. Of course she also had that frontier aspect going, too. He had no doubt that she could take care of herself in the wilds.

Raz himself had polished away all innate mannerisms. He was an actor and could don many, but he reflected his mother’s smooth manner more than his father’s bluff and burly one.

The older man had already straightened out a panel with a stroke of his finger, had arranged the pieces of
Arianrhod’s Wheel
meticulously. Raz got his creativity from both parents.

As well as his sensitivity, his depth of emotion. “Thank you.”

His father glanced up. “Huh? For what?”

Raz smiled, came up, and threw an arm around his father’s shoulder, squeezed. “For teaching me so much.”

The man turned red and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Raz thought back and his smile tightened. “Yes, I still have my HeartGift, safely shielded and put away. Yes, our little daily divinations at the Thespian Club indicated that my HeartMate would be coming into my life. No, I haven’t met her yet.” His face hardened. “And yes, right now, I will be putting my career first.”

His father shook his head, sighed, and said, “Let’s get to work.”

 

 

T
he next morning Del sat in the courtyard grove of AllClass Healing
-Hall and waited for the Healer who had done her physical examination. She shouldn’t be waiting for easily discovered results. The fact that she hadn’t had an immediate response set her nerves—and teeth—on edge. It was all she could do to pretend to sit serenely on the carved stone bench where plenty of other butts had rested—enough so there was a slight rounded depression. She stared at the shade of the trees and the colorful flowerbeds and saw little.

A year ago it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d picked up some sickness or injury that had made her sterile. Now it did—and her small time with Helendula made her want children, the miracle of loving and being loved, of seeing the delight as a child discovered the world.

Del cared for Helendula, but cared for her Family line, too, both new feelings. She’d usually been more interested in the act to procreate than the actual procreating itself.

The small swish of a door alerted her that she wasn’t alone, and she turned on her seat to see Lark Holly, one of the FirstLevel Healers of all of Celta, walk toward her with a smile Del didn’t trust. This was not the Healer who had examined her.

Lark, a small, dark-haired woman with a heart-shaped face, very pregnant, sank down next to Del, offered her hand. “Greetyou, GrandLady D’Elecampane.”

“Del.” Her voice came out raspier than she liked. Reluctantly, she put her fingers in the Healer’s warm, strong, and smaller hand.

Lark nodded, rubbed her thumb over the top of Del’s hand. Del didn’t mistake the gesture or energy for anything but what it was, another examination. She searched for words that wouldn’t be rude and betray her anxiety.

The Healer smiled sympathetically and made Del grit her teeth more before she consciously relaxed her jaw. Lark said, “We don’t often see nobles here. Most go to Noble HealingHall or Primary HealingHall.”

Del rolled a shoulder. “Healers are good everywhere, a simple exam shouldn’t need a FirstLevel Healer.”

Another smile and a squeeze of her hand. “Maybe not, but I asked my associate if I could relay her conclusions.”

They wouldn’t have sent a greatly pregnant woman to give her bad news, would they have? That would have been the height of insensitivity.

Swallowing hard, Del nodded, rubbed her free hand on her thigh, felt smooth linen for the city summer instead of leather for the high mountains. “And your conclusions are?”

“You wanted specifically to know whether you are sterile.”

For once Del wished someone had been a little less direct. “That’s right.”

Lark bent a sympathetic gaze. “You aren’t sterile; you should be able to conceive as well as any other woman on Celta.”

Del narrowed her eyes. “Celta’s harsh on all Earthan creatures. I have problems?” She felt great, how could her body betray her like this?

“You’re as fertile as we all are.” Lark patted her stomach. Surely she didn’t have too much longer before she delivered.

“But?” Del asked.

“You’re a successful woman who spends much of her time away from Druida. My husband is concerned about his cuz, Straif Blackthorn, who wants a child of your Family.”

Huge relief slid off Del like an avalanche down a mountain. “This shouldn’t be any of your business.”

“I love my husband and he loves his cuz. That’s why you want to know if you’re fertile, because it will help you understand whether little Helendula could be the last of the Elecampanes.” Lark flashed a smile. “We’ve all met her, the Blackthorn-Holly-Heather clan. Even my father, T’Hawthorn.”

That man had been the Captain of All Councils, the most powerful man on their world. Del narrowed her eyes. “Don’t try to intimidate me into doing something that isn’t the best thing for me or Helendula.”

Lark’s expression turned cool. “As long as you
do
the right thing for Helendula.”

“Being a child of the highest noble Families—like the Blackthorns—doesn’t always mean that the child has the best. A baby needs love.” Del looked aside.

“I think you know already that Helendula is loved by the Blackthorns, integrated into their Family.”

“Not totally,” Del said. “She remembers her old Family.” She wanted to add that she thought Helendula remembered her, too, but that could be wishful thinking. “I care for her, too.”

Lark gave a little cough and all Del’s fears came pounding back in the rush of her pulse. She turned her head slowly to meet Lark’s violet eyes. “What else?”

Sighing, Lark laid her hand on her stomach. “The energy of your womb is sometimes associated with women who have problems carrying a child full term.”

It was a blow so sharp, Del didn’t know when she’d feel the pain. She stared at Lark’s belly. The woman flushed, lifted her chin. “But you are a woman in the best physical shape that my associate and I have ever seen. I mean that, Del. You should—”

“What are the chances that I can have a baby?”

Lark puffed out a breath. “With diet and rest and under a Healer’s care, I would say sixty-five percent.”

Not great odds, but better than zero. Hopeful, even.

“More than one child?” Del grated.

With a purse of her lips, Lark said cautiously, “You are fertile; you
may
just need to be careful after you conceive. We’ll take it one child at a time, shall we?”

She smiled and shifted and Del stood and helped the Healer up. This was Lark’s first child and she’d been bonded with her HeartMate for four years. Typical for Celta.

“Thank you,” Del said. “Glad to know so I can make good decisions about the future of my Family.”

“I’m sure you’ll make the right ones.”

“Helendula displays our Family Flair for scry work. Elecampanes
do
have Family traditions, and she’s my Heir.”

The Healer gazed at her steadily. “I’m sure no one expects you to stay out of her life. But you have your career.” Lark looked at the HealingHall with an expression that showed she’d never retire. She seemed to understand both sides of the conundrum facing Del. “And the Blackthorns will be dealing with providing tutors for the different Flairs of all their children.”

“Thanks again,” Del said. “I’ve transferred your fees to the HealingHall.”

“And I’ve had documentation sent to your home cache,” Lark said.

Del nodded and walked from the grove. She already loved Helendula, and Del had a duty to her Family line . . . and Helendula. The child must not be deprived of her heritage . . . but she must have a loving Family and that could be the Blackthorns. What was best for the girl? And why was this hurting so much?

 

 

T
hat evening Del rode through the gates of T’Blackthorn estate again.
Both Straif and Mitchella welcomed her though Del realized she’d interrupted their dinner, and they invited her to join them. Happening a lot lately. Hell, she didn’t know the rules for casual Family dinners. Her own parents and she had always eaten fashionably late.

So she ate with them and watched the freewheeling Family dynamics and tried not to be envious.

After dinner she went with Straif and Mitchella to the den to speak privately. Even this room smelled like children, and she could sense the vibrations of their voices outside the room. Antenn and the Residence were keeping an eye on the younger ones.

Straif and Mitchella sat in a twoseat and Del in a leather chair angled toward them.

“You two look good together. You match,” Del said. They did. The tough guy, the voluptuous woman. Made for each other. HeartMates. Would Del
ever
have that kind of look with Raz? She swallowed the doubt.

“Are you going to take our child away from us, Del?” Mitchella asked.

M
itchella stared at Del with eyes that were greener and bigger from
tears.

Fligger.

Del looked at Straif. His face was impassive but his muscles had tensed. “You love Helendula, Straif?”

“Yes.”

Del rubbed the back of her neck but kept her gaze straight. “She’s my Family, too. The last of it.”

Mitchella frowned. “Like so many on Celta.”

Oops. Del had forgotten Straif had that bad-gene thing and Mitchella was sterile.

“I don’t believe you’d take a child on the road with you, Del,” Straif said.

She could. It would be difficult, but she could. Make sure the young one was well protected. Not go into dangerous areas. Limit her jobs. Limit her life.

“It’s a hard life,” Mitchella said, leaning against Straif. His arm came around her.

Sudden envy burst inside Del. She wanted that. Sex and more, loving. Had she been lying to herself all this time? Or was this a new thing? Who cared? “One of the reasons I came to Druida was to find my HeartMate.”

Mitchella sucked in a breath.

Del tensed.

Then the woman smiled with sincerity. “That’s wonderful.” Her lips trembled. “If you’re going to make a Family and want Helendula . . .”

“You’ve already found him, know who he is,” Straif said.

“Yeah.”

Curiosity shone in both the Blackthorns’ eyes.

“No, I’m not going to tell you.”

“HeartMate love doesn’t always go quickly or smoothly,” Mitchella murmured.

Straif winced, moved even closer.

“You will have children of your own,” Mitchella said, but Del caught the echo of an old pain, that Mitchella was sterile.

“Maybe,” Del said.

Straif quirked an eyebrow. “Staying here in Druida?”

Del let out a breath. “No.” Her shoulders felt tight so she shifted them. She glanced around the room again. A FirstFamilies couple could give Helendula more. A HeartMated, honorable,
solid
couple . . . Family . . . could give Helendula everything. Almost.