Free Heart Thief by Robin D. Owens

shieldspells.
    Her relatives’ minds howled and hounded her even louder and stronger, including Uncle Pinwyd’s, whose useless cheaptin antitelepathic crown sat tipsily on his head.
    Ailim cupped her hands and clapped them, sending out a sphere of silence and raising a silver shield deflecting ill-will between the line of her live-in relatives and her desk.
    She refrained from rubbing her temples. “G’Uncle Ab, the suite you recently moved into should be assigned as a matter of Family honor to the Reed Financial Adviser, who will arrive soon. It’s being furnished with items from the entire Residence, including those from your rooms, Uncle Pinwyd.”
    â€œThose music, holo, and scry systems are mine!” Pinwyd yowled. “You have no appreciation of the finer things of life, and had no right to take them.” The bright yellow lapels of his silkeen shirt flapped as he shook with emotion.
    Ailim tried a smile. It twitched on and off her face. “How clumsy of me. I thought they were purchased with GrandHouse D’SilverFir funds. I’m very sorry. Please give me your personal receipts and I will replace them.”
    There was a moment’s silence as fulminating gazes passed back and forth.
    Cona stepped forward, heels clicking from the pine floor to the rug, rudely breaking the deflection shield and slapping her hands down onto the desk. “You canceled my party! How can we keep our reputation if we don’t entertain?”
    â€œThe only celebration that will be scheduled in the near future is the Loyalty Ritual, where you can all vow your allegiance to me. This is tentatively scheduled next week, on Mabon, the celebration of the Autumnal Equinox. If the Reed adviser agrees, perhaps we can have a small New Year’s party at the beginning of Birch, two and a half months from now.”
    Cona squealed. She fisted her hand and pounded the table. “No! You have no right. I’m the most beautiful, the one who’ll make the best marriage, I decide about the parties.” She lifted her perfect nose, set in a perfect face, atop a perfect body.
    â€œI am D’SilverFir,” Ailim backed her quiet words with steely Flair, making them reverberate on both the physical and mental planes. Everyone faded away from her a step or two.
    Ailim considered her cousin. “Ngetal T’Reed will be sending one of his Heir’s-Sons to us. Perhaps you should speak to him about the cost of any entertaining in addition to the Loyalty Ritual.” She studied Cona’s expensive embroidered gown, fine cosmetics, and elaborately braided hair. “I am pleased that you wish to make a good impression upon him. An alliance with T’Reed would be very helpful for the Family.”
    Cona hissed. Her bright blue eyes darkened and she tossed her head. “I marry how I want, whom I want. A Reed—” She lifted a shoulder in dismissal.
    Ailim merely smiled and turned her gaze to Aunt Menzie. “A housekeeping nestegg? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
    Aunt Menzie drew herself up to her full height and glared down her aristocratic nose at Ailim. “You are impertinent to your elders. I had a cache in the kitchen . . .”
    â€œWhy would you need a cache? Is our Word no longer good at the merchants?”
    Red slashes appeared over Menzie’s elegant cheekbones. She walked, stiff robe rustling, to stand with her daughter, Cona. “You are letting a Reed run our finances,” she accused.
    Cona started talking at the same time. “A Reed, they’re so ugly, not even their money can recommend them!”
    â€œIn my FatherDam’s time we feuded with them.” Menzie drew in a breath, and Ailim knew she was in for a long, piercing, mindshield-battering tirade.
    â€œAhem.” A slight cough came from the open door. A man about Ailim’s own age with the firm jaw and bluntly plain features of a Reed stood on the