Heart Fortune

but physically impressive father. Jace’s mind skittered away from his father’s death. Long past, never forgotten. Nor were the lessons he’d learned from it.

He’d heard his mother had died a while back and wasn’t sorry. She hadn’t been a good person. Thinking of her—that he might ever be as manipulative as she was—made him flush hot.

You’re up, be quiet, said a grumpy Zem in his mind.

Jace glanced toward him. He looked the same.

Lost sleep because you were too restless last night. Better that you had mating dreams like other nights, Zem said. Easier to ignore.

Heat washed through Jace. He’d hoped Zem hadn’t noticed.

A huffed breath from Zem, a click of his beak. You should have listened to the wind and the rain, fallen into that rhythm.

Jace blinked and stared. “I thought owls were supposed to be the wise birds.”

Now Zem snorted, raised his head and opened his eyes to stare and blink at Jace. Owls are arrogant. Hawkcels are best.

“I’m sure.” He stepped forward. Into a puddle, something he’d been ignoring. His tent wouldn’t make it another season. Maybe not another storm.

Anxiety made his mind race. More expense, and digging dirt didn’t pay as well as exploring the ship.

“Don’t you want to eat?”

Later. Sleep more, Zem said. Go visit your lady.

“No. Nothing has gone right since that woman has shown up.”

Zem looked up. Not her fault. Not your fault. YOU go eat and feel better.

Jace shrugged dismissively and headed out of his leaking tent into a pretty morning that failed to satisfy. He’d go over to the workshop tent.

A few people were around. No one greeted him.

* * *

Over the following few days, Jace kept his usual manner, even if behind an outer smile and gritted teeth. He wasn’t a thief and he didn’t harm people. He hoped by staying the same, the crew would recognize this.

Every morning after the fox and Zem munched live or newly dead small rodents, Jace took his Fam to the clinic where Symphyta checked the hawkcel out . . . and sent some generalized Healing energy through the bird.

She and Glyssa and Maxima were the only ones who treated him the same—no, Symphyta’s interactions held a tinge of pity that really made his jaw ache, Maxima was fiercely defensive of him which clued him in that she saw him in a romantic light, and Glyssa treated him the same.

Jace watched with fisted hands stuck in his trous pockets as Sanicle and another couple of men brought up from the interior of the ship another one of the large boxes.

He spent time with Glyssa and Maxima in the tent working, but stayed outside of Glyssa’s gathering personal circle. And, for some reason, that radiated a low-level ache around his heart.

Not to mention the ache in his lower body since they hadn’t connected in sexy dreams for a while.

He couldn’t convince himself that he needed to move on to another woman in the camp for real sex. He throbbed for Glyssa alone, which would worry him if he let it.

To no one’s surprise except Glyssa’s, the novelty of the communications center and talking to those in Druida wore off in a couple of days. Jace could have told her that most of the people here had few, if any, relatives, especially in the cities.

Most were like him.

But he didn’t really care for study, and it wasn’t his strong point.

Action was.

So he shoveled never-ending dirt away from a large area where the main entrance was. He figured that was pretty useless. The top of the ship was at least three stories down, and from what he’d seen of the plans, the ship’s main doors were levels lower than that.

Even with the two earthmovers, they weren’t making much progress. But folk noticed his hard, simple work.

And though at first the rumors of a curse still circled, and his rep was still smudged, eventually people began to relax around him again.

Until the night when another storm rolled in.

* * *

Midnight and lightning sizzled around the camp, painting the trembling windblown tents in searing silver.

Glyssa stood in a thick robe at one of the windows of her pavilion, holding a shivering Lepid. She’d set aside Hoku’s journal and her too slowly progressing story to watch the show. Only the thin coating of Flaired gauze kept the storm from her—exciting.

For a moment she yearned to share the excitement with Jace, rolling around on his bedsponge. Or hers.

He’d been treating her like an acquaintance.

She could find him in a dream, make love to him there. He might even welcome her . . . she’d noticed the increased sexual frustration through their bond, though neither of them had mentioned it in their polite conversations.

Not that it would be appropriate to talk about that with Maxima around, and Jace was only near during the day when Maxima was with Glyssa. She wouldn’t chase after him, tried to give him time.

As she watched, two terrible explosions shot fire into the sky and sound roaring through the camp.

Lepid yowled. That was not the storm!

Glyssa feared he was right. “Weathershield!” She gestured at herself and Lepid, coating them with Flair, then thinned the door and ran through. Mud stuck to her feet, slowing her, irritating her.

Lepid followed, barking his lungs out.

As she zoomed toward the closest fire, she heard the Elecampanes behind her.

People popped from their tents, most in rain gear, yelling and shouting.

Lepid shot ahead of her. FamMan! he called mentally.

Glyssa’s throat closed. Surely he couldn’t be hurt! She checked their bond. No. He was fine, a little sluggish from sleep. She narrowed the bond again before he caught her peeking and thought she was pushy.

Smoke and burnt canvas smell came to her nose and she stopped at an area of destruction.

Jace came up to her, but didn’t speak.

The Elecampanes halted near.

Two people ran toward them from opposite directions, a dripping Funa Twinevine, half-clothed and wet so her lush body was on display, and a man who preferred guard duty.

“My tent,” shrieked Funa Twinevine, swiping her wet hair from her face along with—tears? rain?

“The box!” the guy panted as he skidded to a stop in front of the Elecampanes. “Boxes. Both. Blown up.”

Funa bent and picked up something, said a Word to cool it, swore, and then her face twisted into an ugly scowl. She stalked to Jace, flung a tough piece of tanned furrabeast leather at his face hard enough to cut his cheek. “This is your work. Just because I wouldn’t sleep with you anymore you do this? You filthy fligger!”

Gasps came, everyone faded back from Jace. Glyssa wanted to hold out her hand to him, knew it would make fools of them both.

“I left that piece in the workshop tent,” Jace said.

Didn’t sound wise to Glyssa and she kept her mouth shut. Whatever little goodwill he’d managed to retrieve these past days had abruptly vanished with Funa’s accusation.

A wan Symphyta jogged to them, a strangled whimper coming from her. “I was taking my usual late shower.” She blinked wide eyes, staring at the debris. “I’ve lost everything.”

Glyssa put her arm around the woman. “Let me know how I can help.” She scanned the crowd, face set. “We will all help.” Her eyes narrowed at Trago. “Did Symphyta leave anything in your tent?”