Heart Choice by Robin D. Owens Read Free Book Online Page A

insist that you—” The Residence’s voice thickened.
    â€œLater!” Straif strode down the short hallway from the kitchen to the outside door of the west wing, ignoring the cook’s apartments. He wouldn’t let the Residence make him feel more guilty than he already did. He’d been on his own a long time now, had responded to and fulfilled his Uncle T’Holly’s requests, had exchanged favor for favor to other Ladies and Lords of the FirstFamilies as necessary. He was a man now, not a scared and grieving seventeen-year-old boy.
    He circled back to descend the steps from the terrace to the grounds in the rear of the house.
    Drina joined him, nearly running. He was learning to read her already. The stiffness in her tail indicated she wasn’t too pleased with him.

Four

    The terrace steps weren’t in too bad a shape; a simple fix -it spell should take care of them.
    At the bottom of the staircase, a huge lawn stretched to the edge of the hillside the Residence was built on, and another set of steps went down to the Pendef River and his personal dock. He didn’t look at the grounds, but followed Drina as she put on a spurt of speed and angled to a GardenShed. Even from this distance it looked in good shape, solid, sturdy, cared-for. Frowning, he vaguely remembered snatches of conversation from his childhood, his father giving orders that the GardenShed be provisioned with a no-time, a bedsponge. Unusual now that he thought of it, but something that had just drifted past him at the time. And did he, himself, dimly remember the dark form of a large, rough boy lurking in the grounds? Once watching a ball? That would have been the orphaned T’Ash.
    Drina yowled, attracting his attention. She held her nose in the air. The Fountain of the Dark Goddess doesn’t work.
    Straif grunted. Nothing was in acceptable shape.
    The fountain has holes where my sire, Zanth, gouged out the lambenthyst stones. Bad Cat.
    That stopped Straif in his tracks. “Say again.” He tried to keep his tone even, but anger churned in his gut, ready to flash into rage.
    Smiling as she snitched on her sire, Drina said, Zanth took the lambenthyst stones from the fountain and gave them to T’Ash. T’Ash took them somewhere.
    An incoherent sound of fury spewed from Straif, and he turned back to shoot across the width of the grounds and into the T’Blackthorn sacred grove to the Fountain of the Dark Goddess. Sure enough, two of the tiers showed gaping holes where once shining purple stones glowed. His fingers curled into tight fists. “I’ll fight T’Ash for this.”
    Drina joined him, panting. You go too fast. Run, run, run. All we’ve done today. It will demand much nap time later.
    He sent her an angry look. She ignored him and sat, raising a delicate paw to remove specks of dirt. You sound like a Holly.
    â€œMy mother was a Holly.”
    You should talk to T’Ash first. From the GardenShed. There is a scrystone there that he made. He had a reason to take the stones. The curse.
    Everything stilled in Straif, even his sweat. The curse of the Blackthorns was their flawed gene that made them fatally susceptible to a common Celtan disease. T’Ash had taken the stones because of the curse? Could it be that T’Ash had found a cure for T’Blackthorn’s ailment while Straif was searching Celta? Why wouldn’t the man have told him? Straif found himself gritting his teeth and loosened his jaw. “You can be sure I’ll discuss this with T’Ash.” He whirled and started back to the GardenShed.
    Wait! Pick me up. I must have energy to help you and Mitchella Clover in the Residence this morning. And to shop this afternoon.
    Straif flinched. Reining in his impatience, he scooped up the small cat, lifted her and set her on his shoulder, and took off at a rapid pace. She dug her claws into his shoulder, and he hissed at the pain. He’d have to