Seventeen.

Straif studied the large rock, half embedded in mud, a pyramid-like point sticking up. He said to Holm, "What do you think of this?"

"A reflective Flair trap. The more you use Flair to escape, the more your Flair is turned against you and you're hurt. Old-fashioned, but not difficult to set, and very effective."

Straif focused his eyes until he could see the trail from the rock that had been the trigger to the nearby tree. "The rock has an attraction field around it, and a dip has been hollowed out before it. If a person wasn't paying too much attention to where they were going, if one wasn't looking for trouble, one would be drawn to it." He hated the fact that Mitch.e.l.la had been hurt on his grounds. His hands fisted. When he found out who'd done this, he'd make them pay.

"When the spell was tripped, the person would be propelled to the tree and into a living cage." Holm whistled.

They stared at the broken, twisted, and frayed branchlets that had encased Mitch.e.l.la.

Antenn said, "It's a series of nature spells, isn't it?" He scowled, jutted his chin defiantly at Straif. "I don't work with such spells. I'm an apprentice architect. I work with human-made materials to build." Pinky sniffed as if punctuating Antenn's words. "Someone who spent a lot of time outside Druida in the wilds of Celta might know a lot of nature spells."

"Antenn." Lark's voice held a note of reprimand.

"Well, he would," Antenn said. "I've never been outside of the city."

Self-recrimination bit Straif. He'd hurt the feelings of the boy the day before. It would take time before Antenn would trust him. "I didn't set the spell," Straif said quietly. "I have stronger Flair at my command." He frowned. "Mitch.e.l.la thought it was a threat. The other Blackthorn, perhaps," he slanted a look at his cuz. "You've heard of that?"

Holm nodded. "We seem to be living exciting lives. I don't have the contacts in the Councils to help you there, anymore."

"We can't stay in Druida long, just for the Ritual," Lark said.

"Thank you for coming. The Ritual means a great deal to me. I believe most of the Hollys living at T'Holly Residence will be here tonight," Straif said, tidying up the torn branches. They pulsed with Mitch.e.l.la's energy.

Holm stiffened, and Lark embraced him. "Your mam will be glad to see you," she said.

Straif met his cuz's hard gray eyes. "T'Holly is coming to realize his mistake-his many mistakes-with regard to you and your HeartMate."

"He won't admit to the world that he errored very soon," Holm said, his expression resigned. He held his HeartMate tightly.

Straif felt the emptiness of his own arms, his own heart, and yearned for another-a woman. Mitch.e.l.la.

"Better take care of the trap," Antenn said. He tilted his head to look at the rock. "Do you think the rock should be destroyed?"

"It holds malice," Straif said. The Flair trace surrounding it was a nasty yellow green. Not a sane color. "Even if ground to dust, the fragments would carry the malice. It will have to be cleansed."

"You should let T'Ash do that," Holm said. "He's the best with stones."

"Right. He might be able to tell us more about it. But I'm giving it to Winterberry."

"Hard to understand who the spell was aimed at-you, Mitch.e.l.la, Antenn, or someone coming tonight." Holm shook his head.

Fury flashed through Straif. "My estate has been defiled too often."

Lark touched his arm. "The Ritual will secure it tonight."

He rolled his shoulders to ease tense muscles. "Yes. You remind me that I should be preparing myself for the Ritual."

"No s.e.x," Holm said cheerfully.

Straif glanced at Antenn, but he was watching Pinky stalk Holm's cat, the lazy Meserv. "Is my attraction that obvious?"

Holm grinned and took his HeartMate's hand from Straif's sleeve. "Quite. The Clovers are a remarkable Family."

T'Holly arrived in the evening, about a septhour before the Ritual. Straif was proud to lead the Captain of the Council into his newly refurbished ResidenceDen.

The GreatLord looked around with approval. "Very nice. In fact, I like it better than the way it was in your father's time." His face tensed. "Your request for the use of the T'Blackthorn funds to restore the house has been denied. Whatever monies you have spent will be taken from your own account."

Straif kept his expression blank, but couldn't prevent the heat of humiliation from warming his face. Even as he strove to total what he'd spent, he nodded. "Thank you for telling me."

"Are you sure everyone coming tonight is a good ally?" T'Holly asked.

Acid roiled in the pit of Straif's stomach. "As sure as I can be." He glanced at the timer. He'd cleansed himself, dressed in his finest ritual robe woven of bright metallic threads, and meditated. He was due at the sacred grove for the preliminary steps of the Ritual. He couldn't brief T'Holly on the trap.

"Be careful." T'Holly squeezed Straif's shoulder. "There are whispers going around the Councils that your obsession with remedying your genetic flaw is unhealthy, that you picked up odd notions traveling in the wilds of Celta, that you will not be able emotionally to face your past and restore your estate. It's said that you will continue to neglect your home, your land, and your duties by wandering Celta. I've heard gossip that your great Flair is unstable, which makes a lesser Flaired Blackthorn with no health problems more attractive to the Councils. I haven't been able to track down who started the rumors. Everyone will be watching you tonight."

Straif swore.

"I can't lend you gilt openly, but if you need help . . ." T'Holly shook his head. "We'll figure out something."

"T'Blackthorn and I have discussed finances," Mitch.e.l.la said from the doorway. She wore a long, purplish gown shot with golden threads that clung to her incredible figure. No scratches or bruises marred her pale skin. "With what we can accomplish tonight, my contacts, and the Residence stores, we should be fine. We'll scale back on expenditures and outside work, unless T'Blackthorn trades in favors with his allies."

Straif said, "I will be more careful as I pursue my quest here in Druida."

The sympathy and vitality flowing to him from Mitch.e.l.la withdrew, and Straif ached with the loss.

She said, "Ailim Elder awaits you in the Grove of the Dark G.o.ddess." A sad smile pa.s.sed over her face. "She is very pregnant. T'Heather, the Healer, is with her. The grove and the fountain are secure." She curtseyed, Commoner to FirstFamily Lord, and Straif didn't like it. "You should go."

Straif walked up to her, took her hands, and kissed them in turn. "I'll go. You'll join us shortly?"

She pinkened and withdrew her hands, gave her deepest curtsey to T'Holly, and left.

"A very beautiful and talented woman," T'Holly said. Still something in his manner made Straif uncomfortable-did T'Holly approve or disapprove of his relationship with Mitch.e.l.la, and why? Straif didn't want to know. He bowed, equally as formal as Mitch.e.l.la. "I'll see you later, Uncle."

T'Holly hesitated. "Is Holm here?"

"Of course. He and his HeartMate arrived earlier."

Now T'Holly seemed to want to avoid impossible questions and impossible answers. "I'll see you later," he grated.

Mitch.e.l.la knocked on Antenn's suite door. When he didn't call out, she glanced at her timer, then opened the door a crack. "Antenn? It's time we go down to the Grove of the Dark G.o.ddess."

He walked out of his bedroom, wearing a long bloused-sleeved tunic with small stand-up collar that fell to his knees, and bloused trous that fit at the ankles. Both were black shot with gold thread and dressier than anything she'd ever seen him in. He fussed with a black furrabeast leather belt.

"Isn't that Cago's Nameday Ritual outfit?" she asked.

Antenn flinched. "He outgrew it. He didn't like it anyway. I asked if I could have it. I knew we were partic.i.p.ating in a Ritual where a lot of FirstFamilies will come, and I wanted to look right. They're your clients. I hope they'll be my clients, too. Cago said I could have it."

He sounded so defensive that she hugged him and stroked his hair, but only once because of his pride. Then she stepped away. "You're very dashing." She curtseyed to him. "GentleSir Moss."

Eyeing her, he said, "Yeah?"

"Yes. Now you're making me nervous."

"You always look beautiful," he said, and gave her a sweet smile that touched her, since he used it so infrequently. She did love him, this child of her heart.

"You're wearing your old third Pa.s.sage celebration gown."

She laughed. "I thought I'd better wear my fanciest dress, too. And though it's not black for the Dark G.o.ddess and the new twinmoons, it's purple for this month-Hawthorn. I'm not sure if GreatLord T'Hawthorn is coming, but if he is, he should be pleased that I'm wearing his color."

"Everyone will be pleased just seeing you." He scowled. "T'Blackthorn will like that gown. You'll be next to him at the Ritual. He'll probably look down the neckline."

The neckline was of soft folds, but could definitely shift.

Hands on hips, Antenn stared at her, still frowning. "Are you going to have s.e.x with him?"

Her stomach squeezed. "The attraction is there, and I'm thinking of it." She'd never lied to Antenn and wouldn't start now, though she'd been much more discreet in her affairs since he'd become her ward.

"It can't last. It can't ever lead to anything serious."

"Of course not." In her early years, more than one man ended a relationship because she was sterile. Now she preferred very light and surface affairs. Except with Straif Blackthorn. "I'd like to have an affectionate and pa.s.sionate affair."

"He's a client."

She grit her teeth. He wasn't saying anything that hadn't circled round and round in her mind, but it was tough hearing it. "I'm well aware of all the disadvantages of an affair with Straif Blackthorn."

Antenn's gaze searched her face. "Does he know you're sterile?"

Mitch.e.l.la shrugged. "It's old Commoner news that likely wouldn't reach n.o.ble ears, but he's friends with T'Ash and D'Ash, who know I'm sterile. Probably."

Lip curling, Antenn said, "I don't like him using you."

"I plan on using him for"-good, hot, s.e.x-"pleasure."

"You won't get hurt?"

Mitch.e.l.la put her hand on his shoulder. "Antenn, I try to make sure that no one ever gets hurt in my affairs, including me."

"Huh. That doesn't mean it won't happen." He slanted her a dark look.

"No, but I weigh the pleasure versus the pain factor. Sometimes the pleasure is worth any pain. Like having you. We've had our arguments, some resentments, but we worked through them and we're together. I can't think of a time when you won't be in my life, as my-friend."

He flung himself at her, squeezed her tight, and strode from the room, moving rapidly from the suite and through the Residence. Mitch.e.l.la followed. Finally he said, "Yes. We'll be together until I'm grown." His voice sounded choked, and as they left the house, he lifted eyes that could have shone from tears. "You and the Clovers have taken care of me. I'll always take care of you, especially when you're old."

"Thanks a lot," Mitch.e.l.la said, but the spring night touched her with soft air, with incredible streams of starlight and quickened her blood. She was on her way to see Straif, to link with him in a power circle, to be part of a FirstFamilies Ritual. She, she, Mitch.e.l.la Clover, would be directing the energy to restore the Residence. She'd never felt so vital.

When they reached the narrow path to the Grove of the Dark G.o.ddess, Antenn slipped his left hand into Mitch.e.l.la's right. She had no doubt that it was to claim her for the Ritual. Straif would officiate as the Lord, pregnant Ailim Elder as the Lady, but Mitch.e.l.la would be on Straif's right. Since the circle would alternate male-female, Antenn had made sure he'd be connected with Mitch.e.l.la.

She looked down at him and said, "You have more Flair than I. I'll be providing the detailed direction of the energy we raise to restore the Residence, so I'll be depending on you."

Antenn nodded soberly. "I won't let you down."

"Of course you won't. You never could." When she saw him smile, anxiety that had lodged in her vanished. They'd face what would come as a familial unit. Two Commoners amongst the greatest Flaired of Celta.

The path spilled out from between towering trees to a gra.s.sy glen inside the grove. Only the very tips of the budding trees met, showing the black swath of sky and brilliant starshine. At the far end of the grove was the Fountain of the Black G.o.ddess. She stood in the top, smallest bowl of five basins, her hands palms out, away from her sides. Water would stream from her hands when they repaired the pipes.

With one glance, Mitch.e.l.la saw that Straif had been busy, grooming the glen, the bushes and trees surrounding them, cleaning out, preparing and polishing the fountain. The white marble gleamed in the starlight.

No twinmoons. This was the night Cymru and Eire were dark. The time of the new twinmoons. Another little shiver tingled down her spine. A time of great power, and she felt it around her.

In the center of the clearing was an altar Mitch.e.l.la had never seen before, of black marble that seemed to absorb the night dark, trapping starlight. The altar scarf was a filmy black, shot with silver, the tools atop the altar glowed with the Flair that came from much use. Sweet, heady incense rose in a plume from the miniature cauldron.

Many people already stood in the RitualCircle. Mitch.e.l.la noticed they were mostly of Straif's generation or younger. T'Ash and D'Ash, Holm and Lark Apple, young Vinni T'Vine paired with Mitch.e.l.la's cuz, Trif Clover. But the elders of the Circle were awesome, T'Holly, the Captain of all the Councils, and his HeartMate, D'Holly, with most of their Family who resided in T'Holly Residence.

Mitch.e.l.la saw D'Holly, Holm Apple's mother, catch his hand and pull her disowned son firmly to her side. Tears glittered in her eyes. T'Apple, D'Holly's father, had given Holm his new surname.

T'Heather, the premier Healer of Celta, stood frowning down on the pregnant Ailim Elder's left. Other major Great-Lords were T'Hawthorn and T'Reed; the GreatLadies included D'Rowan and D'Alder. Mitch.e.l.la gulped. Antenn squeezed her hand. He said nothing, but she sensed he was as overawed as she.

In a brief count, she figured there were at least sixty people ready to ally with Straif. She wondered what it would cost him.

Then Ailim Elder glided to them. Mitch.e.l.la didn't know how she did it, she was so hugely pregnant. It was a tremendous mark of support and distinction that Ailim graced the Ritual. Ailim placed her hands on Mitch.e.l.la and Antenn, and a blessing moved from Ailim to them. In her well-modulated SupremeJudge's voice, she said, "Welcome to the New Twinmoons Ritual. I'm very pleased to see both of you together." Ailim had been the judge who had placed Antenn with Mitch.e.l.la.

Antenn shuffled his feet. He'd never gotten over his awe of the SupremeJudge. Mitch.e.l.la brushed a kiss on Ailim's cheek. "Thank you for the welcome, and the blessing, and most of all, Antenn. You're beautiful, the embodiment of the Lady as Matron."

"You look like you're gonna pop any minute," Antenn blurted, then stepped closer to Mitch.e.l.la. She felt the heat of his flush.

Ailim threw back her head and laughed. Her blond hair seemed spun starlight. "Come, friends, it is time we started."