“Of course, sir,” Mr. pel'Kana said, and went away.
Alas, it appeared that Daav had been unreasonably optimistic in his assessment. Hours passed and Aelliana did not return, nor did she send any message. In order that the servants not be subjected to his increasingly disordered state, he retired to his apartment, where he paced, and searched the house base for any message she might have left for him that may have gotten misfiled. When he tired of that, he humiliated himself by checking her closet, and so found that her jacket was gone, which comforted him not one bit.
Sitting down at his worktable, he tried to calm himself with carving, but his thoughts wandered so that he was a danger to his own fingers, and soon set the knife aside.
He went out onto the balcony where only this morning they had shared breakfast and she had outlined her plans. A pleasant day it had seemed she intended, before the arrival of Mizel's letter.
Mizel's damned letter, of which he had found no trace, though he had found her port comm and the empty envelope on the desk, with the cards she had written out that morning.
Mizel had threatened her; he was more certain of that than he was of his next breath. The shape of the threat scarcely mattered; it had been enough to send her flying out of their house without a word to any who might try to prevent her, without even a message for him in the house base, explaining—explaining . . .
What?
That she was taking her ship and fleeing, refusing both the dominion of Mizel and Liad? Or that she was returning to her clan, hostage to his honor?
He hoped for the former, if, indeed, she had left him. If it were the latter . . .
. . . he could not abide it, if she had returned to her clan in order to protect him, and he became yet another stick for her delm to beat her with.
The racket of the night birds mocked him. He went back inside and resumed pacing.
To leave, without so much as a word . . . He thought to bring up the departure log from the port feed, but froze with his fingers on the keys, certain that his heart would break, if he found The Luck gone; and nothing proven, if she were still at dock.
He thought then that he would call Mizel, but refrained from that mad start, as well. In his current state of mind, he would only worsen a desperate situation. Any calls should rightly be made by dea'Gauss, to whom Mizel at least must speak on the subject of an open complaint. Daav yos'Phelium had no right to speak to anyone enclosed by Mizel's honor, and an attempt to do so could be shown as harassment.
It was past midnight when, nerves exhausted, he at last sat down in the reading chair. With nothing more useful than a cat to occupy him, he tried to think what he would do, if Aelliana were well and truly gone from him.
She was his lifemate. If she had lifted, intending to make her own life, still he might ease her way. If she would not take his money, she might yet accept work sent to her through Korval channels. He would need to be careful of her pride, but he need not despair of being some use to her.
If she had returned to Mizel, the opportunity to honor her fitly was . . . much more difficult. He supposed he might commission Mizel assassinated, which would be the best service he might render her . . .
Across the room, the door to their apartment opened.
* * *
“Daav?”
Aelliana stopped, staring at him, huddled in the chair with Lady Dignity, his face etched with—
“Van'chela, are you weeping?”
She moved forward, and he snapped to his feet, dropping the cat unceremoniously to the floor.
“Aelliana . . . ” His voice was hoarse. “Aelliana, where have you been?”
“At the port,” she said, sweeping toward him. Such grief; it must—no, surely there was no ill news from Anne?
“What's amiss?” she demanded and took hold of his arm.
Agony scorched her; fear froze her. She gasped and snatched her hand away, staring up into his face.
“dea'Gauss,” he said, and for once his voice was neither calm nor steady. “dea'Gauss had received a letter from Mizel, demanding your joyous return to clan and kin, else Daav yos'Phelium would be revealed before Council as a kin-stealer. I came home, and there had been another letter from Mizel, which precipitated your headlong flight from our house . . . ”
“You thought I'd left you,” she said, disbelieving. “Daav . . . ”
Deliberately, she stepped forward, slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his, trying to warm him, trying to force him to feel her love for him. She put her forehead against his shoulder, shivering with his fear.
“Van'chela, I would never go away from you without at least leaving a message!”
His hands came lightly 'round her waist. He sighed and some of the frightful tension left his body.
“And yet,” he said softly, “you did just that.”
Yes, she thought guiltily, she had done just that. So focused upon her own necessities that she had not thought of his, or what he might think—a letter from Mizel arrives, which surely Mr. pel'Kana would have told him, and Aelliana flies. Absent a message, even setting aside his own dire letter, what else was he to think, having heard her say time and again that she would not return to Mizel?
“I'm sorry,” she whispered the Terran phrase against his shoulder. She raised her hand to his cheek. “Daav, please forgive me; I never meant to cause you a moment's care. I swear to you now that I will never leave you; I love you too well.”
