Thirty-one.

Mitch.e.l.la cried out as Straif teleported away, tearing their bond. She squeezed Antenn harder.

"Your affair with T'Blackthorn is over?" Antenn asked a moment later.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." He hesitated. "Can we go to the GuildHall and finish my adoption?" he said.

Tears still threatened. She sniffled, found a softleaf, blew her nose. She could control her emotions, the black emptiness another septhour or two, then when she cried in the dark in her old room in the Clover Compound, she would cry tears of loss mixed with tears of joy. And when she woke up, family would be around her, comforting her, as they always did, as they had when she'd learned she couldn't have children.

But she did. She had a son, right here, and a good son he was. "Yes, let's go to the GuildHall." She checked the horizon for the huge starship to orient herself. From the angle and the distance of the ship, she knew she was in southeast Druida, in an old area populated by lesser n.o.bles.

"Where, exactly, are we?"

"We're near Grain and Palmetto. Danith D'Ash told me where you were. She told all the Clovers. The snotty cat let herself get kidnapped." He made a disbelieving noise and looked at Pinky.

Cat was fool-ish. Pinky's telepathy was still shaky. He raised his nose and sniffed disdainfully. Though his mental speaking needed work, his att.i.tude was all Fam.

"Anyway, I knew where to come," Antenn said.

"What do you think of the House? It's my next project. It's becoming sentient. I thought if you liked it, we might . . ."

His eyes widened in horror.

"Look at the House. Use your Flair." The House could be a great distraction. She'd never midwifed one from burgeoning intelligence to real sentience. This would be challenging. The House needed her, and its desperate situation overcame any reserve she might have at the thought of Kalmi. She could make a great difference to this House. T'Blackthorn Residence could help-another flash of pain, another notion to vanquish.

She turned to survey the House herself. Broken, rusty gates framed a pitifully dead gra.s.syard, the weedy courtyard, the pathetic House. But it was large and could-possibly, with a lot of work-be beautiful. As if feeling their gaze, the House glowed. Turquoise.

Antenn winced, then narrowed his eyes in what she recognized as his Flair sight. Gulped. "I think we could get it cheap."

A weak chuckle broke from Mitch.e.l.la.

I like the House, Pinky said.

Frowning, Antenn said, "It's . . . it's . . . it could become a Residence, couldn't it? We could live in a Residence. The Mitch.e.l.la Clover Residence," he whispered.

"Yes."

He straightened his shoulders. "If we all worked hard, you and me 'n Pinky 'n the Hou-House we could make it a Residence." He nodded. "This could be really good."

"I think so."

"Yes." He looked at Pinky, around Mitch.e.l.la's shoulders.

Pinky revved his purr. I will be a Fam with a Res-i-dence. Good.

Slipping his hand in hers, Antenn said, "Our Clover family will help us." He hesitated, said in a little voice, "I suppose we'll be getting a lot of gilt from-from our last project."

She struggled for even tones. Any swerving of her thoughts to Straif, to the T'Blackthorn Residence, threatened her fraying control. "I haven't calculated our accounts payable yet."

"It will be a lot. Enough." With a last glance at the House, he said, "I don't know why it glows turquoise, but that must go." He stared up at her and frowned. "You look terrible." He led her down the street to the public carrier plinth.

He knew she needed solid contact with him, perhaps he wanted it, too, in this most important septhour of their lives together.

"It's a good thing that I got SupremeJudge Ailim Elder's personal seal on the papyrus." He smoothed the papyrus and pointed to the silver seal of scales against the background of Nuada's Sword. Pride filled him and trickled through to her.

Feeling positive emotions, even if they weren't her own, mitigated her pain.

"Ailim Elder filled out some of the dates and info about when you got me and why. She asked me to call her Ailim! Just think, my mo-, my mother is the G.o.dmother of Captain's Lady Ailim Elder's baby girl." He grimaced. "I saw the baby, she's really ugly, but Ruis Elder and Ailim like her. Since they look good and are nice people, I guess she'll get better."

"I'm sure she'll always be adorable." There was no tinge of hurt that she'd never hold her own baby . . . because she might. Someday she might be able to adopt a baby.

Antenn glanced at her, studied her face, the state of her dress. "Yeah, it's good that I have her seal, otherwise the GuildHall clerk might not think you wanted me."

"Who wouldn't want you?" she tried a little teasing. Act normal, and the world would soothe her with normality, smooth the edges of her raw pain. Let her accept the deep hurt, and it, too, would become normal.

"Exactly." Antenn attempted to look cherubic, and her breath broke on a shaky laugh.

The public carrier arrived, and they embarked, found a plush bench, and sat. Antenn separated a page of papyrus from the rest and handed her a writestick. "You fill this stuff out." His hands trembled a little, and Mitch.e.l.la put her arms around him, squeezed, then applied herself to the form, and she found that her eyes and hands worked just fine. She let her world narrow to her child and his needs.

"I bet the Clovers will throw a party to celebrate me becoming one of you." He grinned, and somewhere in the gray cloud that enveloped her, she felt a spark of pleasure at seeing him happy.

Finishing the form, she handed the papyrus and writestick back to him and tousled his hair, boy fine and soft, not as thick as Stra-she ruthlessly squashed the memory. "Our family will celebrate with an impromptu party in the compound courtyard. Nothing we like better." Montages of so many past parties flowed before her mind's eye, comforting her. "It will be fun." She could endure it for the amount of time it took for Antenn to gravitate to the Clover boys and start up their own games.

Straif teleported to his ResidenceDen, glanced around with pain-blinded eyes, and knew he'd have problems living in the Residence again-every room shouted Mitch.e.l.la. He staggered over to the long, man-sized sofa and fell onto it. Why hadn't he antic.i.p.ated this pain? This hurt that chilled him to the bone? Why hadn't he realized that he'd have difficult memories again? Because it was supposed to be a s.e.x affair. And though he'd sensed that it had turned into more-that she, at least, had loved him, he had hidden from his own feelings.

Holm opened the door and strolled in, took one glance at Straif, shut the door, and called mentally, T'Ash get your a.s.s in here. Aloud, he said, "AllCla.s.s Councils' Representatives are here and brought your formal reinstatement as T'Blackthorn. The party's in full swing. The duel, your acknowledgment of Stachys, and the Councils' approval are all old news. Catnapping and the unfortunate death of a madwoman are hot stories."

Straif grunted.

T'Ash walked in. Straif felt him more than anything else. He was having a hard time moving. Maybe it was the debilitating cold encasing him.

"T'Blackthorn looks bad," T'Ash said. He loomed like a dark shadow over the sofa.

"I would guess that my cuz has lost his woman," Holm said.

"Pretty pitiful if a tracker misplaces his own woman," T'Ash said.

A strangled sound escaped Straif.

"Guess he didn't want to marry her," T'Ash said.

Holm said, "He once told me that he wanted Family, yet he's thrown away the love of a good woman, the admiration of a boy. Does that sound reasonable to you, T'Ash?"

Straif didn't like how the two friends ganged up on him, but couldn't muster the effort to defend himself. He was so cold he was sure he was frozen, one movement of a finger could break it off.

T'Ash shrugged. "Probably thinks that since he has a HeartMate, he'll find another woman to love him well-enough."

Holm lifted his brows. "Now the Residence is in order again, himself confirmed as T'Blackthorn, he can hunt his HeartMate."

"No!" Straif whispered, but he didn't know if the others heard it, it sounded so raw, like the painful cry of an animal.

"You know Blackthorns always track their HeartMates, don't you, T'Ash?" Holm said.

"Huh. Better wait for a while then. Dead old lover's body in Death Grove, new lover finishes restoring his Residence, and she's gone. Doesn't look good," T'Ash said.

As Straif raised his shoulders to prop them against the arm of the sofa, he watched carefully to make sure his torso didn't break in half, though he didn't know if it mattered.

"I heard the Ship's even given him an immunization for the virus that he can use for his Family. Everything's just rolling along great for Straif, here." Holm tapped Straif on his shoulder, and the heat from just the small contact of his cuz's fingers made Straif whimper.

"Are you two trying to kill me?" he asked, then finally managed to look at the men. Holm was stern. He'd make an excellent GreatLord T'Holly when his father reinstated him as Heir. T'Ash appeared impa.s.sive as usual, but as he lounged in one of the large chairs, his body language sent out irritation, perhaps even an edge of contempt.

"Don't I hurt enough without you two beating me up?"

"We don't know. Do you hurt?" Holm asked.

Straif closed his eyes. "I don't think I'll ever be warm again." He didn't want to talk. He only wanted to lie still until heat returned to his body-a decade maybe, the way he felt. He was beyond caring if the other two stayed or went.

"You do look real white," T'Ash said. "Might be he's suffering a bit. Losing a woman can do that to you, but it isn't as if it were his HeartMate."

Anger moved sluggishly through Straif, he opened his eyes and stared at T'Ash, then heard the clinking of gla.s.ses. Surprised at the sound, he saw Holm at a small corner bar that appeared to be stocked with liquor. Something else Mitch.e.l.la had added to the room. It was beautiful and functional, like all her work.

Holm gave Straif half a gla.s.s of whiskey. Wise, since Straif's hand shook so, the liquid almost slopped over the edge. Gritting his teeth in effort, and loathing that the other two watched, he brought the drink to his mouth, then had to force his jaws apart to drink. Whiskey trickled into his mouth, down his throat. Must not be a good brand, he didn't feel the fire.

"We've all known the pain of great loss," Holm said quietly. "The loss of our Family."

T'Ash grunted, accepted the whiskey Holm handed him, and stretched out his legs.

Maybe the liquor was effective after all, Straif felt embers igniting in his gut.

"It's rough," Holm said.

"Rougher if it's done to you instead of doing it yourself," T'Ash said.

That brought Straif's feet down on the floor. "I did not kill my Family." He'd accepted that, finally. He hadn't killed his parents. They'd been dying, just as he had. Both had known that even if one of them had survived, the HeartMate would have perished within the year at the loss of the HeartBond. So they'd given him the strength to live-with love. Even the guilt that he'd survived and everyone else had died had faded-with the work of restoring his Residence, his joy in Mitch.e.l.la. He tried to recapture those feelings, but they were lost under the frozen tundra of his heart.

"Not one of us was guilty of losing our Family," T'Ash said. "Mine was killed. Straif's died-"

"I chose my HeartMate over my Family," Holm said. "In that way, I'm guilty of losing mine, but we didn't push our women away-"

"Speak for yourself. I did. For her own good," T'Ash muttered, staring out the nearest window.

"Well, I-" Holm stopped, coughed.

"So you two made mistakes, too." The smallest tendril of warmth sprouted in Straif.

Holm sank down onto the sofa next to Straif, sipped his own drink, and said, "You could have learned from our experience."

They sat for a moment in silence. Straif downed his whiskey, hoping for more warmth.

"The basic question is whether you want to pay the cost of letting your line die for the love of a woman," Holm said.

Straif's mother and father had cherished each other. Through love they'd died to ensure he lived. Could he, through love, live and let any future progeny die?

"Love is everything." T'Ash turned red and hunched his neck into his shoulders.

"You know very well that if Danith had been sterile, you wouldn't have HeartBonded with her." Straif's voice was harsh, as if all his scorching emotions had scoured his throat.

"It wouldn't have been long before I'd have surrendered," T'Ash mumbled. "I couldn't live without my HeartMate-not even before we HeartBonded." He glared at Straif and Holm. "And I never said that."

"Can you live without the woman?" Holm asked. "I mean live, not survive?"

"How do you feel about her marrying another man?" T'Ash asked at the same time.

Two blows, one to the brain, the other, more horrible, to the gut.

When silence stretched, T'Ash rose. "There's a party outside of this room. By the way, the Residence looks great." He tilted his head and his face lit up. "My Lady has arrived. She's putting your sickly FamCat to bed. Thinks Drina will be near full strength after a septhour of rest."

"Thank you, T'Ash, and thank her."

"You'll get a bill," T'Ash said cheerfully. He buffeted Straif on the shoulder. "Now that you're T'Blackthorn again, our fees will be high." He sobered and shook his head. "It's a hard decision you have, but blood isn't as important as we've been taught. I'll be adopting some of the people working for me into my Family. I have Danith, but she always wanted a big Family, so I have connections with the Clovers, too, always will." He spread his large hands. "There's-affection-between all of us. Blessings upon you." He nodded once, then left the room.

"Mitch.e.l.la's sterile. You won't give up your Family line for her," Holm prodded.

Straif looked at him. Did he see disappointment in Holm's eyes? "You can't-"

"No, I probably can't understand your viewpoint. I gave up everything for my HeartMate. My Family, my future. And I don't regret it." Holm's eyes fired. "I don't regret HeartBonding with her, following her to a new life." Holm poked a finger into Straif's chest. "I'll tell you this. Family is important, but what is more important is love, and I'm not just talking about love between a man and a woman, HeartMate love. True Family isn't based on blood, but on love."

Shock jolted Straif that Holm was repeating words Mitch.e.l.la had said. "How would you know?"

Now Holm looked aside. "When I was disinherited, I was lost. I thought I'd lost all my Family." His gaze swung back to meet Straif's. "But Tinne stood by me. You stood by me. T'Ash and the Apples. Even T'Hawthorn and Lark's Family consider me a part of their Family. Would you like me-love me-if I carried no blood linked to yours?"

Holm did know. And he'd left himself emotionally open to anything Straif might say. "I told you last year you were my cuz. You're Family."