with brutal honesty. “And to have a family of my own. Children of my own.” Pretending not to see the glance exchanged between the other two, she upended her mug, drank and set the mug aside. “And even Lladrana and all its medicas can’t give me children. The infection from one of the surgeries took my ovaries.”
“It isn’t common that Lladranan and Exotique couples produce children,” Alexa said. “I don’t think Bastien and I will ever have any.”
Calli whipped her gaze to Alexa, then to Marian. “Your guy, Jaquar, he has blue eyes—”
“Yes,” Marian said. “He has some Exotique blood in his lineage. Whose or when, we don’t know.” Her aura spiked green.
“Bastien and I will just have to adopt,” Alexa gave Calli a direct look. “Wouldn’t that be good enough for you? Or being a cowgirl you gotta have the right equipment and bloodlines and breeding and all that jazz?”
No. It was as if a note had echoed throughout her being. She didn’t have to give birth to children of her own. Children who loved her would be enough. Feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, Calli said, “Drop it.”
“If you want pedigree—” Alexa swept a hand around them “—you’re out of luck. You’ve landed in with a motley crew. I don’t know my ancestors, grew up in foster care. Bastien’s a black-and-white, which can mean mentally handicapped, and his father was an asshole.”
“My mother’s a bitch,” said Marian. “My brother’s a jewel, though.” She looked thoughtful. “He came with me…sort of…If you don’t reject the Choosing and Bonding ceremony, he might be right for you. The Song might have led him here for you.”
“She should stick with Faucon Creusse. Noble, rich, sexy and handsome.” Alexa wiggled her brows. “What’s not to like?”
“Tell me about the Claiming and Bonding ceremony,” demanded Calli. She’d backed up against the bar.
“That’s what we were getting at. Magic…Power…the Song, choosing the right guy for you.” Alexa waved her hands.
“You want love?” Marian joined Alexa to face Calli. “What if I told you there’s a surefire way to find the right man for you? Your soul mate?”
Calli’s heart thumped hard. A man who would love her. A man she would love. Was she really ready for that, despite what she yearned for most?
Marian spread her arms wide, and the gesture emphasized the rich robe she wore, the Circlet around her forehead, the expensive surroundings. “What do you want, Calli? True love? There are plenty of Chevaliers ready to bond with you—men and women of like mind with you. Land of your own? You’ll get it.” She laughed a little. “Children? Unfortunately Lladrana is like Earth…there are abandoned children you can make into a family. Volarans? I think you can have as many volarans as you want.”
“They are their own,” Calli protested, but vividly recalled the horse bodies pressing against her.
She’d never be lonely again.
She remembered the Map Room, the unclaimed land.
She thought of Faucon Creusse, all too willing to be her lover at any moment. Already. That was a little scary. He had to want her just because of what she was and not who she was. He didn’t know her.
But this notion was a little tempting, too. A magical ceremony could bring her a guy? Some sort of matchmaking deal? Intriguing. Especially since after her disastrous illusions about her father, she didn’t trust her own judgment worth spit.
She thought of children. With a big ranch, she could have many.
Finally, an image of a flying volaran herd circled in her mind’s eye. Wings of all colors, equine faces looking to her. She could almost hear the wind rush through thousands of feathers.
When she glanced at Marian and Alexa, they were glowing with the golden aura of love. Love given and received with their men. Friendship love between them. They liked her already; could they become good friends? With these women there would be no competition between them, no moving around that meant brief and broken ties, like in the rodeo.
The room wavered before her as if behind a rich haze. She’d be rich and valued and respected and would own land. And love would come into her life.
Grabbing her mug, she filled it again and went to a wing chair. “What about this magical ceremony?”
8
The sound of strumming strings came once. “That’s the doorharp,” Marian said.
Calli remembered seeing something like half an egg slicer mounted on the door.
When the door opened a huge man and much smaller woman entered. Just the sight of their strong, intertwined aura had Calli sitting down on a little sofa, blinking. They brought music with them. It was the strongest tune she’d heard from people, truly a Song with a capital S.
Alexa introduced the two Marshalls as Mace, the arms master, and his wife, Clua, who was a battle strategist.
“You know, Calli, it would be much easier if you took just a drop of the potion,” Marian said, pulling the little bottle from her robe pocket.
Calli wondered if it was the same bottle or if she and Jaquar had concocted a large batch. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Silvery laughter came from Clua. Mace stroked his wife’s hair. They were still holding hands. With a kiss on their linked fingers, the woman walked toward Calli, face welcoming, hands outstretched.
Their aura didn’t break apart, but stretched, and in stretching, remained the same deep gold color and thickness. It was as if wherever they went singly, they would still keep the same strong and intimate connection with each other. Awesome.
Automatically, Calli took Clua’s hands.
An image of a calendar flipped pages going back. Years. Calli was swept into the past, experiencing the Choosing ceremony of Clua and Mace.
The first thing she noticed was that she felt woozy, dizzy. A hand—her hand?—passed a goblet to someone and she noticed an aftertaste in her mouth. Another emotion swept her, anticipation at the Choosing, then, as she looked around a large room with stone walls—her Power amplified. Her eyes were sharper, her eardrums nearly exploding with the loud tangle of personal Songs.
She looked down at a table at a variety of items. A beret—nothing Calli had seen so far in this world, old-fashioned?—a quill pen, a book, a small carved volaran, a locket, a chain with keys, a brooch. She touched each and received impressions of the person who’d placed it on the table. Each time, she saw a colored link connecting the person to the object. Sometimes that connection was a thread, sometimes a cord. Once a chain. Just as the melodies she heard varied in strength and prettiness—a whisper of a tune too simple to please; a loud, intricately layered Song that pulled at her, awakened feelings deep in her core.
Her hand hovered over a locket. An oblong thing of gold, inset with black with a diamond in the center. She brushed her fingers across it and felt a surge of desire, longing, be- longing from it. Looking up, she saw a huge young man dressed in a short velvet robe and tights, arms crossed, staring at her. She couldn’t look away.
He was too big, too tough, too sophisticated for her.
Forcing herself to withdraw her fingers, she turned to the other tokens.
Nothing felt as right as the locket.
Time telescoped and Calli was able to distance herself a bit from the experience and feel the woman’s fingers clamped over hers in the here and now.
She watched as if hovering outside of herself—like she’d done in a couple of the surgeries—while Clua tested each item time and again, then finally listened to the rush of her blood and heart and bone and took the locket.
A shout of celebration rose from many voices—her