Heart Choice (26 page)

When they reached the narrow path to the Grove of the Dark Goddess, Antenn slipped his left hand into Mitchella'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 Mitchella would be on Straif's right. Since the circle would alternate male-female, Antenn had made sure he'd be connected with Mitchella.

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 grassy 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 Goddess. 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, Mitchella 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 Mitchella 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. Mitchella 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 Mitchella'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.

Mitchella 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. Mitchella 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. Mitchella 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 Mitchella 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 Mitchella.

Antenn shuffled his feet. He'd never gotten over his awe of the SupremeJudge. Mitchella 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 Mitchella. 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.”

So Mitchella and Antenn took their places in the Circle.

Straif looked cool and calm, but when he linked hands with her, excitement surged through their link and to Antenn. He jumped and stared at Straif.

The man's lips twitched up, but his eyes looked a little wild. Mitchella dredged up calm and sent him a measure. He exhaled slowly, nodded thanks.

When Ailim Elder placed her hand in his, he inhaled deeply and dropped Mitchella's fingers, going with Ailim to the center of the Circle to begin the ceremony. The opening of the Ritual was like many others Mitchella had attended, except for the sheer Flair being generated, and that helped her settle.

With each moment that passed, Mitchella became more aware of her surroundings, and the people linked with her. Wispy clouds veiled the bright Celtan night, and only starshine provided illumination. They stood hand-in-hand in a large Circle, more Nobles than Mitchella had ever seen together at once in person, and she was part of it! So was Antenn, and to the surprise and amusement of many, so were the FamCats Drina, Zanth, Samba, the FamDog Primrose, and even Pinky. The Fam animals sat or lay on their person's foot, connected with the circle of humans and providing a hint of wildness in the cycling link. From the auras she could see clearly, she understood that she was one of the weakest in Flair.

The FirstFamily Lords and Ladies shone as bright as stars, surrounded by white energy, until she could only see their outlines, not their features, a mixed blessing. Families gathered together as their energies often complemented and magnified power. The most unexpected grouping was the Hollys, with Lark Hawthorn Apple and her disowned Holly husband, Holm, linked to the rest through his brother Tinne and then to D'Holly.

Ailim Elder shifted from foot to foot as if trying to stay comfortable. Her Flair was rich with burgeoning creation. Mitchella wasn't talented enough to tell whether her unborn babe contributed a hint of energy, too.

As the Ritual proceeded, Mitchella's mind hazed at the sheer power of it all—power that came to her to direct, since she had the clearest vision of a restored Residence. Flair ran up her hands, encasing her, whirling around her so potently that she felt like a galaxy wheeling in the heavens. She couldn't have contained it, couldn't have guided it, except for Straif. He was there next to her, rock solid, connected to the land itself, to steady and help her.

An energy sphere formed, grew massive and a thousand times more powerful than what she'd seen the AirMages control when they'd smothered the fire at her home.

The sphere was a golden bubble, unhampered by air or ground. She saw it in her mind's eye, and Straif moved it from the grove to the Residence until the energy enveloped the house. Sweat trickled down his arm to dampen his palm; his scent drifted to her.

Mitchella blinked, but her mind's eye remained clear. She saw the
entire
Residence, including the hidden HouseHeart that only Family should know. She wanted to ask Straif about that, but Flair held her in its grip and she couldn't move, could barely breathe. She sensed that Straif understood she saw the HouseHeart, but shielded that knowledge from everyone else. An honor, she supposed. Better if she could breathe easily.

We will bless and renovate the Residence first, then restore the shieldspells of the walls around the land,
said Straif.

Focusing on the house, Mitchella saw it as if it were a viz.
Yes, blessing, first,
she managed to project.

Ailim Elder, as the Lady, began the blessing chant, others joined, and Mitchella gasped at the beauty of the song. Everyone raised their linked arms overhead; the cats purred. A stream of pure, potent Flair—
positive
Flair, with no ill-wishes, no negative thoughts toward Straif or T'Blackthorns—surged from the Circle to the sphere surrounding the Residence, and the house glowed golden, starting with a burst of light from the HouseHeart and spreading like benevolent fire throughout the home.

The energy circled like a whirlwind in the ballroom, eliminating layers of despair. Yet the place contained so much negativity, it might take all—

Straif sent the blessing to cleanse other rooms, faster, completely. His gratitude at the gathering spilled from him to warm Mitchella, and she sent the feeling back to him, adding the affection and a blessing. She caught a glimpse of a hard, crusted wound in his spirit breaking open, being soothed. Swallowing hard, she fixed her gaze on the glow beyond the trees. She saw the blessing sift through the Residence. Something more was needed. “Peace,” whispered Mitchella.

A quarter-way around the Circle from Straif, T'Hawthorn changed the beat of the chorus of the blessing song to a rhythmic poem of Peace. One by one, clockwise, each person picked up the verse. This spell, too, Mitchella knew. She had celebrated the spell with her own family, only its sheer power differed.

Finally, the last one added her voice to the rest. The circling energy calmed. Ailim Elder rested a little and smiled beautifully up at Straif. He looked down at her with tenderness, then turned to Mitchella. For the first time, his gaze was free of torment. They all repeated the verse three times.

Then Straif shouted, “Security!”

Eighteen

With Straif's yell of “Security,” T'Oak, at the bottom of
the Circle, raised his voice and sent his Flair cycling, raising the energy again. The Circle shuddered, and that force was added to the bubble of gold. An image of ice came to Mitchella's mind, coating the outside walls, doors, and windows in thick layers. Straif smiled in satisfaction. His shoulders straightened in relief that his home was safe again.

But the Residence needed more. “Beauty!” Mitchella cried. T'Apple, a few people to her right started another song, a lilting lyrical song. D'Spindle joined her lovely voice to his, then her HeartMate picked up the tune. Alternating male/female, each sang. Mitchella heard Antenn, and pride filled her at his competence.

When her turn came, she'd learned the words from the minds of those around her and she sang with all her spirit. Straif jerked a little, and the rest of the Circle raised their voices to overcome her screechy tones. She laughed inside. Again they sang the spell thrice, then Ailim Elder started a pattern of Words that raised the power even more. The final, most important spell neared.

“FLAIR!” shouted Straif, and the energy sent to the Residence sank into every wall, deepened into a large pool in the HouseHeart, stored, available for use for years to come.

With a rolling, rushing sound, water shot from the pipes in the palms of the Dark Goddess and filled the first small basin in which she stood. Instants later, it cascaded into the next larger bowl. In a moment, it had filled the last basin and misting droplets dewed the celebratants. Mitchella felt her hair dampen, saw the gleam of a drop on her eyelashes.

Triumph zipped around the circle, and Mitchella cried out with joy, her shout joining others.

In gentle steps, Straif modulated their energy, sent the remnants back to them, calmed them. Ailim Elder's quiet voice joined with his as they ended the Ritual and finally broke the Circle, unlinked hands.

Mitchella forcibly locked her knees to keep from swaying, weak from all the Flair that had sizzled through her at her command. Her brain and ears buzzed. Licking dry lips, she announced, “The west terrace has tents of food and drink for your refreshment. Please follow Antenn.”

Most of the others strolled, laughing and gesturing, from the grove to the west terrace. The air hummed with good cheer and their speculation on the state of the Residence and grounds.

GreatLady D'Heather whispered in her HeartMate's ear. In the bright starlight his flush was obvious. “Will you need me, SupremeJudge Elder?” he asked Ailim, eyeing her belly.

“MotherSire, I'm a FirstLevel Healer and still here,” Lark Apple said.

The Heathers said their good-byes and left.

Mitchella smiled from her heart. If she squinted, she could see tiny motes of Flair—silver, gold—glistening in the air. She felt surrounded by champagne, breathing it in, letting it settle on her skin, slip along her nerves and into her blood.

Ailim Elder swayed, paled. “The baby's coming!”

Lark Apple ran to support her. Straif followed.

Taking both of Ailim's hands, Lark frowned, then glanced at Straif. “I think it best that she isn't moved. We can bring the babe into the world here, and shortly.”

Straif gulped. “This will be a great blessing on my House.” The bond between him and Mitchella pulsed with a shade of fear. It would be disaster if something went wrong.

“Hold her while I arrange a bedsponge from the heavy moss here,” Lark said, and efficiently formed a birthing bed. “Let's make her comfortable.”

Straif gently lowered Ailim to the soft moss. She gripped his hand, wet her lips. “Send to the Ship,
Nuada's Sword
, for my husband, Ruis. I want him here.”