Hearts and Stones (Celta HeartMate) by Robin D. Owens

Author:Robin D. Owens [Owens, Robin D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robin D. Owens
Published: 2020-06-22T18:30:00+00:00

WorkBell rang and the studio opened for business. Holm stood, feet braced, on the polished wooden floor of his new fencing and fighting salon, awaiting students. He swallowed hard, hoping people would respond to his simple announcement in the newssheet.

Now, he waited. He'd opened the doors separating the main training room from the entryway, and propped open the outer door to the street, too. He'd wanted to stand near the outer door and welcome people in, but though that felt right to his notion of hospitality, it also felt desperate to be a success.

No Holly—hell, Apple—should ever be desperate under such ... commonplace circumstances as opening a business. Unexpectedly launched into space to circle the planet then fall back down into untracked mountains, yes. Sinking in quicksand and dying, yes. Not standing alone in a room and looking at the huge block of sunlight stream through the open outside door and waiting for students.

He'd placed a sidebar at one end of the entry room and stocked it with caff and cocoa and a pile of freshly baked pastries. Holm waved a hand and sent delicious smells wafting out the door.

What if no one came?

That would be a blow to his minuscule pride indeed. He'd been considered the second most skilled fighter in the whole world, after his father, FirstFamily GreatLord T'Holly. Hopefully his reputation drew clients.

He had the skills and knowledge to train others, he just didn't know if he had the talent to teach. That took different kinds of abilities, like patience and understanding. Ah, he'd work on those aspects of himself to bring the best to his clients.

If students came to Holm's Training Studio. And if students didn't appear, he'd be humiliated as well as pretty battered. His shaky sense of a new self would explode again.

What would he do if the fighting studio didn't work? He didn't know. He had few other skills.

"Ahem," a man coughed, pulling Holm from his thoughts. When he looked up, the middle-aged guy faded back, nearly stumbled. Holm stopped himself from smiling in relief, that would look bad, as if he laughed at the guy's lurch.

"Greetyou, Sir." Holm bowed and prowled toward the atrium. "Welcome to my studio. Would you like caff or cocoa?" He gestured to the set-up.

The tall and gangly man who didn't move well, didn't seem well-seated in his body, eyed the drink and pastries. "Better not. I'm, uh, here for a lesson and probably best to eat afterward?"

"Indeed," Holm said. At The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon one of his cuzes who staffed the reception desk would step forward and get all sorts of particulars, schedule a training course, set up sessions, whatever. From the man's nerves, Holm didn't think he dared activate a simple calendarsphere.

He held out his forearm to clasp. "Welcome, again. I'm Holm ... Apple and I offer hand-to-hand fighting training that will help you with your balance, as well as weapons training. That is, knife, dagger, main gauche, short sword and rapier, broadsword and others of that like, as well as blazer pistols.

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