T'Ash moved his shoulders uneasily. He didn't know if Straif looked for a special Healer, Scholar, or herb, but the circumstances of their lives were too alike for him to often think of T'Blackthorn.
You slow!
T'Ash increased his pace, and at his jog Danith tightened her arms around his neck and her scent wafted up to him. He nearly closed his eyes in pleasure at the feel of her body against his.
Finally he was holding his HeartMate, not just touching her hair, face, arm, not taking a gentle kiss. And not experiencing mental lovemaking that only simulated the physical, without even twining their minds together. How frustrating that had been.
She lay quiescent in his arms, weighing less than a block of celtastone, less than he'd expected. His body wanted her, his sex pulsed with every step, but his heart yearned for her even more.
His mother and his father had shown their love for each other in frequent glances, and less common touches. The Ash Family had never been very demonstrative. T'Ash had noted how Danith often touched her cat, his Fam, or a textured surface or two.
He wanted her hands on him. Their marriage would heal all the emotional wounds he'd taken in his life, without him ever having to tell her of them.
He could barely wait. But he had to. He didn't have the new HeartGift with him.
Once they reached the grove with the fountain of the Dark Goddess, he placed her gently on her feet and kept an arm around her so she could stand only on one foot and lean against him.
The sight of the towering fountain took Danith's breath. The grove had been planted and maintained so that the moonlight only touched the fountain. Even the grassyard around it was in deep shadow. Consisting of five descending tiered white marble bowls, the fountain only held leaves, twigs, and grit in its ever-larger, cascading basins. The statue of the Goddess herself gleamed of black marble. And in the round bowl at her feet a fabulous labenthyst reflected Cymru twinmoon.
Danith looked up at T'Ash. His eyes glinted.
He pointed to the deep gouges in the mortar surrounding the stone. “Zanth has been working on freeing the stone. He wants it.”
She stared at him. “Isn't that theft?”
“Cats don't think in that manner. He wants it, no one else is here to appreciate it or defend it, so he will take it.” His brow furrowed. “But the curse of the T'Blackthorns' is supposedly linked to the stone. It's said it screamed when removed from its living place in one of the T'Blackthorn mines.”
Danith looked at him with a measuring gaze. Ever since she had fallen in with nobles, the sense of being surrounded with the great Flair and magic they wielded escalated. Few of her friends could speak at all, let alone seriously, about teleporting, dreamquests, curses, or screaming stones.
But looking at the purple stone, appearing to glow from the inside, she couldn't prevent a shiver.
He smiled down at her, and she wondered how he could be so carefree, given the circumstances. “And Zanth has some notion that if anyone can placate an angry stone, and break a curse, I can.”
She squeezed his hand. “He's right.”
His eyes lingered on the Dark Goddess. “You know, the Dark Goddess watches over blacksmiths.” He flexed his fingers. “And that is part of my calling. Perhaps She will not mind if a Fam to a blacksmith takes the stone from Her fountain. If I can break the curse, I will probably claim the stone as my fee.”
Danith sucked in a breath. “You said this curse has lasted generations?”
His eyebrows dipped. “Seven, maybe eight.”
“Then the price would be worth it, but what ifâ” She stopped, feeling embarrassed at her thoughts.
“Yes?”
She cleared her throat, thinking she was going to sound foolish, or like a noble who was steeped in tradition and Flair, orâ
“Yes?”
“What if the stone wants toâahâgo back?” She waved a hand.
“Go back?”
“Be returned to its”âwhat had he called it?â“living place?”
He shrugged. “Then I'll take it back.”
“A stone has feelings, too?” She wanted it to sound mocking, but it came out in too much of a questioning whisper.
“Perhaps.” His gaze shuttered, and she knew then that whatever his true thoughts on stones were, she wouldn't hear them now.
She looked at the fountain, the small grassyard surrounding it and the looming trees of the grove that protected it. It should have been gloomy and threatening, but to her it brought a mystical peace with an undertone of excitement. The Dark Goddess emphasized that change and rebirth were always inherent in the present moment.
She had forgotten that. That all life was change. Perhaps she never connected with deeper truths unless she relaxed and was still. Her life had galloped out of control, and perhaps she was trying too hard to think about it, force it into patterns she knew, instead of learning new patterns.
She sighed and leaned a little more against T'Ash. She liked the feel of his strong body next to her. And his scent drifted to her on the night airâdeep earth, hot-metal, T'Ashâand at this instant it didn't rouse desire, but contentment.
“Mmmm, I like this place. Do you think any of the Blackthorns ever held their rituals here?”
“They are of the FirstFamilies, duty bound to contribute to the Great Rituals in the GreatCircle Temple.”
Danith made a disgusted noise. “Too bad. There is nothing like celebrating holidays outdoors, with stones and trees and streams marking the directions.” She shivered. “I could not give that up.” She laughed a little. “I join the Clovers, now, for Sabbaths and Albans, as long as they perform their services outside. It's wonderful, being a part of the huge whole of their Family. Why, the Family alone can make a large circle, not just standing at the points of the directions. It is very comforting.”
“Cold outdoors in the winter.”
“Yes. But there is a sheltered place I goâit is rarely too deep in ice or snow to welcome me. And I must admit, I usually observe only full twinmoons in winter.”
“You're getting cool. We need to look at your foot. It's time to return to the shed.”
“The shed? That's what they call that little stone house?”
“That's what I call it. Zanth, we're going back.”
Zanth, who had been amusing himself by jumping up to the topmost tier and walking around the bowl rim, gave them an aloof stare and continued with his rounds.
T'Ash swept her up into his arms. She ignored the speeding up of her blood as her body made contact with his. She looked past his large biceps at Zanth. “Do you think he's practicing his own ritual?” She liked the whimsical notion.
Zanth glanced up at her and narrowed his eyes. Her head throbbed a moment.
“Zanth says cats remember the generation starships that set out from Earth. The cats hated being in timesuspension crystals, and the ships themselves were too small. They are glad our ancestors detoured to this star system and settled on Celta after the spaceships got lost. Trying to find the original destination would have been difficult, and taken light-years longer.”
Zanth yowled.
T'Ash chuckled. She liked the sound, she rubbed her cheek against his lightly haired chest.
“Zanth is complaining again that I'm not translating his thoughts accurately. He says you need to hurry and learn your Flair so you can talk to him.”
Danith smiled. “He is as impatient as you.”
His arms tightened around her, and he set off down the path at a lope, as if in a hurry to return to the gardenshed. “Not possible.”
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After tending her foot and sharing a meal, T'Ash
renewed the heatspell one last time and glanced over to where Danith lay on her side, nearly dozing, on the soft permamoss. Her injured foot was tucked under her.
T'Ash had been relieved at the smallness of the wound, but wary of a puncture covered with dried Downwind slime. He'd used the most powerful cleansing bandage in his supply. She'd laughed at the strength, then gasped at the sting, but he was satisfied that the wound was clean. He'd followed the directions on the little healing spell included in the bandage. The spell demanded the most minimal of Flair, the easiest of the small Healing Words. Her foot should be fine by the morning.
He'd also used a little of his accumulating Flair to show her how to mend the tears in her clothes, though the cloth looked melded together rather than seamlessly woven.
A small surge of power, a few Words of a welding spellâhe didn't know a weaving spellâand it was done. He liked teaching her. She was an eager but focused student. He thought that time they'd spent together would definitely qualify as the “quality personal contact” written of in D'Rose's book. He was doing better at this courtship business.
Her fine, shoulder-length chestnut hair tumbled about the pallet, some wisping over her pale complexion. White and soft and delicate, everything opposite him.
She'd revealed some of herself earlier. Too bad it was something that caused tension to wind tight inside him. She liked having a large Family around her, a Family he could never offer her. Even were his vision true, there would only be six of them at Family rituals, a child to stand at each direction, himself and Danith by the altar as embodiments of the Lord and the Lady.
His mouth set.
Then there was all that female talk about preferring the outdoors for ceremonies instead of something like the HouseHeart or the GreatCircle Temple. That gave him a few uneasy moments, too. As his HeartMate, a HeartMate with powerful Flair, she would be expected, even ordered to attend and participate in the FirstFamilies Rituals that shaped the world. It was written in the laws of Celta.
He examined her narrowly. He would be able to get around the issue of celebrating outdoors, somehow. He didn't know how. He couldn't conceive of how. He sighed. He was afraid that this issue would have to be addressed by consulting others, again. Costly, again. Time consuming and not guaranteed to work, again.
Then he cheered, he'd conquer that matter after she had accepted his new HeartGift and they were HeartBound. That would make everything simpler.
She snuffled and sank deeper into the warm, green moss.
“Danith?” he asked softly.
Her eyelids opened slightly, the glinting color made more green and less brown by the permamoss bed.
She was soft, and generous, and on the border of sleep. He could tell her something of his wishes, his desires, maybe a fault or two. This could strengthen the chains he was slowly forging between them. And if his goals clashed with hers, she would be too drowsy to object. She would just listen and the knowledge would sink into her thoughts, and her dreams.
He slid onto the pallet next to her. The summer night was warm enough to sleep well without covers. And should it cool too much, he would keep her warm.
T'Ash reached out to touch her hair, and as he saw his own hand hover near her head, another memory flashed to his mind. Of his father, gently soothing his mother with strokes down her head and her long, midnight hair. For a moment his throat closed; the image was too strong and sweet for him to handle without shattering in grief at all the past times lost.
“Danith, dear one.” He pushed her hair back. Her ear looked pink and slightly pointed.
Her eyelids lifted slowly, as if bearing a great weight.
“I am T'Ash,” he said, having trouble with words, as usual, fumbling in following his strategy. Why was the execution never as smooth as the plan?
She smiled.
“I am the last of my line.”
Her lips lost their curve, she put a hand on his chest, over his heart. Progress.
“I have . . . My fondest dream”âhe winced at the sissy words, but they were ones he recalled that she had usedâ“is to continue my line.”
“You will,” she breathed, her eyes closing again.
“I want a Family.”
“Family is very important.” These words were even softer than before, slurred.
He lowered his voice to match hers. “I want a wife, a HeartMate. To love me. To live with me. To be the mother of my children. To make my Residence a home.”
“Umm-hmm.” It was more like a sigh.
“To follow old traditions and found new.”
“Umm.”
“I want you,” he said, putting all the yearning he felt into his tone. She didn't answer and he could only hope she heard him.
He watched her breathing, and with every movement of her luscious breasts he felt desire build and his loins tighten. He hadn't been able to admit one further fault, to be even a little vulnerable.
He dared not overwhelm her with his passion or his dark spirit. But his control with her was always questionable, and tonight it could so easily slip his grasp.
He knew now he could not introduce one more disturbing element into her life at this time, one more new concept. Let her ponder being a HeartMate without pressure from him.
He didn't want it that way, hated the idea. He wanted to claim her and bond with her and make her forever his own. But if he did that, if he overwhelmed her and took her choice away, despite that they were HeartMates, he would lay the foundations of ruin in their marriage. He could not grab. He would have to coax.
He brooded. He had never had to coax or lure anyone before, and it made him seethe with frustration. He was used to grabbing and explaining later. Grabbing would not work with Danith. He'd be left with only her haunting ripe-apple scent.
Lord and Lady but he ached for her. And his body, primed for days, was less painful than his heart.