Lost Heart: A Celta Novella (Celta HeartMate Series) (3 page)

"Yes, I do."

"It's easier to believe if you have a HeartMate." Enata believed
that
.

Glyssa said, "Perhaps. And I think we need to put it in the Licorice ResidenceLibrary database, that all individuals without HeartMates will be allowed an appointment with the T'Willow or D'Willow matchmaker, if they choose."

"I like that idea," Enata said.

"T'Willow has a ninety-eight percentile success rate with matching people, and usually the process takes from a month to a year. Just think, some man out there for whom you are perfect, is as alone and as lonely as you."

"No doubt HeartMates are matched quicker than the rest of us," Enata said, blinking away sudden tears. A year from now she could be wed! Meanwhile, she'd work on her emotional state and getting healthier.

She sat up straight. Set the alcohol laden drink aside. "Let's convince the parents."

E
nata sat
, vibrating with nerves, on the way to GreatLord Saille T'Willow and her matchmaking appointment. The glider moved through the lush greenery of the high status noble estates. Her emotions swung from irritation at herself to hope to fear to . . .

Her parents and sister had HeartMates in this lifetime and she didn't.

That made her believe she was unworthy of such a gift, and inadequacy gnawed at her.

In a fit of exuberance and fear, Enata had invited her sister and her sister's HeartMate, Jace Bayrum, along to the appointment. Enata plucked at the sleeve of her formal gown of deep burgundy that complemented her auburn hair and the green embroidery the same shade of her eyes. She wanted to look perfect — worthy of a good match.

Then the glider pulled into the courtyard of T'Willow Residence and soon the three of them were admitted to the GreatLord's office. The left wall showed plants pressed against the glass of a conservatory, the other walls dark wood paneling. Each piece of furniture was a well-kept antique.

The GreatLord himself came toward her and the crucial nature of her appointment struck her. She stopped, frozen.

She'd met the GreatLord at rituals, a man slightly taller than standard, with chestnut hair and blue eyes. His fine features proclaimed him of the highest class.

He studied Glyssa and Jace. Enata turned and watched, but saw nothing unusual. Glyssa's hair was as rusty as her fox Fam's, and her eyes green like their mother's. Jace stood taller than T'Willow, with a leaner frame, hair dark brown with a touch of red. His narrow face held silver-gray eyes with a hint of wildness that made Enata wary.

Then GreatLord T'Willow took her cold fingers and led her to a cushioned comfortchair. She sensed a stream of professional reassurance from him. "Thank you for seeing me, GreatLord," Enata said.

T'Willow inclined his torso. "You are quite welcome." This time he smiled, also professionally, but looking as if she sincerely interested him. She let out a quiet breath.

With a wave of his hand, the thick arm of the chair sank, then the chair itself lowered.

She flinched but stayed standing.

His smile encouraged. "I promise you, this will be painless. As I told you and your relatives, from your background and Family history, I'm certain I can match you in the next few months."

With a nod, she squeezed his fingers, showing her confidence in him.

He straightened abruptly, reached out and took her other hand. Then his expression went impassive and his gaze distant. Great Flair radiated from him, sizzling uncomfortably through their linked hands, spreading through her in what felt like a net sifting and examining her. She flushed hot at being so intimately weighed.

An eternal moment passed before T'Willow dragged in a breath and released Enata's hands. She allowed herself one long shudder.

"My apologies for initiating the scanning spell so quickly without an interview," he said. "Please, take the chair."

Her knees had weakened and she felt fully as awful as every time she'd left Secure Vault Prime this month.

This fateful morning she'd surrendered to continual ill health and had taken a tonic the Healer had prescribed when Enata had gone in early for her annual health check. The potion had removed the last of the lingering headache, nausea, and muscle cramps. Now they'd returned.

She slipped into the chair and smoothed her gown around her, then linked her fingers and kept them close to her waist.

"Pardon me for a moment," the GreatLord said and crossed to his chair behind his centuries-old desk. He sat and turned toward the scryscreen inset into the paneled wall. "D'Licorice at the PublicLibrary, please." He shot a glance toward Enata. "That's where your parents will be, correct?"

"Yes," Enata said, her heart pulsing fast. Why would T'Willow want to speak to her parents? Could he not match her?

Clearing her throat, Enata said, "Neither of my parents had appointments outside the Library, though Father may be working at home."

"D'Licorice here." Their mother appeared in the screen. "T'Willow? Is everything all right?" Her gaze went past him. "Enata?"

Words rushed from Enata, "I don't know what's going on."

"I suggest you and your husband join us for the consultation," T'Willow said smoothly. "At once. Matchmaking at your level is always a Family matter."

Enata's mother's brows rose, then she smiled though tears showed in her eyes. "We'll be right there–" She stopped, swallowed her smile. "Enata? You permit?"

"Yes," Enata said in a small voice, still unsure what was happening.

"We'll be right there." D'Licorice signed off.

"Private screen and channel," T'Willow said. His hands waved in a pattern for a call to a Family that Enata didn't know.

"Glyssa?" Enata said plaintively, all her muscles tense. She wanted support.

Glyssa and Jace came over to flank Enata. She gave Glyssa one of her hands that Enata suspected might be clammy, then offered her other hand to Jace. Hesitantly, he enveloped it. "Thank you," she whispered. "Brother."

He flinched and Enata frowned. She'd thought he'd accepted her — them — better.

"Here," said a man's voice from the darkened scry screen. Enata frowned. She should know that voice. Almost . . .

"This is Saille T'Willow. I suggest you send your brother to me at T'Willow Residence immediately."

There was a long pause. "This is regarding his appointment three weeks ago?"

"Yes."

"He'll be right over," the man said. "Can I, or my parents come–"

"No," T'Willow said.

"Damn."

"Give me a septhour, maybe two before you scry me about results," T'Willow said.

"Maybe," the person grumbled. "Later." The sounds of a busy office faded. Who had a busy office?

"Brother," Enata whispered. She wasn't talking about Jace, but the man with a busy office who had a brother who'd met with the matchmaker three weeks ago. “What about my interview and ah . . . my evaluation?”

T’Willow rose, circled his desk and leaned back on it, giving her a brilliant smile. “As soon as I took your hand, I believed I knew a man who’d match you well. When I scanned you, I confirmed that. Your prospective husband is on his way here.”

"Why all the secrecy?" Jace demanded, surprising Enata, but she liked that he asked the question she wanted to.

"It's best for the parties to be surprised, have no preconceptions that might come with a name," T'Willow said. He winked at her. "Such as those who believe the Licorices are archetypical librarians and scholars."

They
were
archetypical librarians and scholars.

"People don't realize we are
passionate
about our studies," Enata said.

T'Willow nodded. "Passion is a good thing to have in a relationship." He went to a no-time, pulled out a clear tube containing a dark blue fizzy drink. "Please drink this potion." He held it out to Enata.

"What does the potion do?" they all asked in unison.

T'Willow stood right before Enata, triumph radiating from him. When he looked at her, his eyes gentled. "This will make you emotionally more open and lets your natural inhibitions subside under . . . we'll say natural attraction, passion, love."

"Oh."

"The gentleman coming here will also receive a potion."

"All right." Enata released Glyssa's and Jace's hands and took the tube. She slowly brought it to her lips. Sparkling bubbles tickled her nose. She tipped a little of the liquid onto her tongue -- sweet. One good breath, then she swallowed the drink. Effervescence slid down her throat, and her tongue swept froth from her lips. Already feeling a little dizzy and slightly hysterical with good cheer, she put the empty tube on the desk.

She felt
great
! Everything inside her loosened, all anxiety vanished, and she became aware of the intimate and pulsing bonds that linked her with her Family. She did love her Family. Every single one of them, even Glyssa's new HeartMate in a brotherly sort of way. She frowned but an errant sad thought escaped.

"GentleSir Bayrum, as a man not native to Druida City," T'Willow said. "Will you help me in this?"

Glyssa's HeartMate stared at Enata, then Glyssa, then T'Willow, his expression alive with curiosity. A good thing to have in a brother-in-law. "Yes."

"We'd recognize him?" Enata asked. Dozens of men's faces swam through her mind, from patrons she'd helped at the PublicLibrary, to those she'd stood next to during ritual circles at GreatCircle Temple, even all the way back to boys of her grovestudy days.

"You would probably recognize him." T'Willow gave her an impishly charming smile.

At that moment the housekeeper opened the door and Enata's parents came in, holding hands and radiating excitement.

"You have found the perfect match for my Enata!" Rhiza D'Licorice's tone lilted.

"That's right," T'Willow said.

"I'm not sure about this," Enata's father said.

"A father's prerogative. However, I think you will be pleased. If you would take one of the twoseats in the corner?" T'Willow indicated the seat on the opposite wall than the one Glyssa and Jace had returned to, far from the focal point of the desk and the two chairs before it.

"He'll – my– not my HeartMate." Enata bit her lip. "I don't have a HeartMate."

"No," T'Willow agreed. "But you have a man who complements you. Who will be a wonderful lover, partner and your love throughout your life."

"Truly?" Tears welled inside her like hope. "And discovered so quickly?"

"I promise you," T'Willow said. "But like all relationships, even HeartMate ones, this marriage will need tending and love and understanding. But I promise you that he is a good man and you can have a
wonderful
marriage."

"Oh." She swallowed. Love, real love. Someone who might put her at the center of his life . . . where she would place him.

The matchmaker continued, "I know him and his vibrations. I didn't know you, but when I took your hands I understood that you will be an exceptional match."

"Exceptional," said Enata's father.

"That's right."

"We want our daughter happy," said Enata's mother.

"And so she should be, as happy as any other extremely loving couple," T'Willow said.

He cocked his head and everyone fell silent. From the open window, Enata could hear a man stomping around, and using curse words that she'd only said in her head. Complementary to her?

"That man will make my daughter happy? Really?" T'Licorice asked.

"Get to your places." T'Willow put enough command in his voice to have Enata's Family taking their seats.

T'Willow opened the no-time potion storage unit and handed a large tube full of a frothy pink liquid to Jace Bayrum. "Give it to him and wait ten minutes."

B
arton couldn't believe it
! With a telepathic command, Walker had hauled him out of a training session for the bodyguards and sent him to T'Willow's. Made Barton take a waterfall and change into formal clothes of a conservative cut. Not that he couldn't fight in the Clover green tunic and trous, but the whole damn thing alarmed— no,
annoyed,
him. Surely T'Willow hadn't found him a wife in three weeks. Couldn't happen.

And Barton had to sit in the back of a Family glider with a driver. Barton grumbled and swore all the way to the nobleman's. Glider doors didn't slam well, but he tried anyway. When he paused for breath, the housekeeper dressed in Willow red opened the door and waved him in, pointing toward a right hand corridor at the end of the entry hall. He nodded to her since his throat had dried as his guts twisted.

A man Barton had never seen stood before the office door. Tall, lean, looked even more common than Barton, which made Barton more inclined to like him. He stopped a pace from the guy. "Greetyou."

"Jace Bayrum." With a grin he offered a tube of sloshing, suspiciously pink liquid.

"Heard of you," Barton said, studying the guy. He'd come to Druida City from the excavation of
Lugh's Spear,
interesting situation. "What's that slop?"

"A potion GreatLord T'Willow wants you to drink to make you more receptive to love. Lust, too, I guess."

Barton scowled. "You can't make me drink that."

"Who wants to?" Jace waved toward the entryway. "You're free to go back to your . . . brother."

The guy knew Barton's sore spot, for sure. He showed his teeth, paced toward the nearest end of the hall that showed a door to a conservatory and back. "My brother's given me no peace. 'Get a wife. You want children, don't you?' he says. Nothing but nag, nag, nag." He ran his hands through his hair. "The whole Family, nothing but nags. Wears on a man."

Jace sloshed the potion. "You gonna drink this or not?"

Barton saw milky pink bubbles rise to the top, break. He couldn't think of anything he wanted to do less. "There's a woman in there." He jerked his head toward the door to T'Willow's office.

"Three," Jace said affably.

"Three?" Relief surged through Barton. "I'm getting a choice? That's better." He stared at the drink, muttered an inward prayer to the Lord and Lady, manned up. "Gimme that." Barton swooped the potion from Jace, squeezed the tube open with ease, and gulped the pink contents.

Warm, and as frothy on the tongue and going down as it had looked, but . . . there came a tart aftertaste on his tongue, then an instant later the sweet taste of honey. A multi-layered woman? Women? Three?

His head spun a bit and he solidified his stance.

Jace Bayrum reached out and took Barton's wrist, tapped his timer. "Wait ten minutes and come in."

"Three women." Barton's tongue felt thick. "A choice, and T'Willow's supposed to be a good matchmaker."

"Ninety-eight percent success," Jace said.

Barton grunted and sweet honey fumes sent tendrils of relaxation into his brain. His tongue folded inward on another tart tang. "Not so bad." With careful steps he trod to a chair of wood and red velvet and sat. It groaned under his weight. "Beats being nagged to death."