minutes ago. I'm very late in taking her to GroveStudy and arriving at my own shop, but some things are worth changing plans for."
Holm smiled and a spurt of satisfaction rushed through him. He'd pleased GraceLord Allspice, who'd tell all his friends about Holm's studio.
Allspice greeted and kissed his daughter who sat on a chair against the wall, a wide-eyed child of about five delicately munching on an almond pastry, then the man went over to pour himself a caff.
Holm crossed to where the girl sat on a gold-painted, tapestry-cushioned chair only a female would choose, and squatted before her and held out his hand. "Greetyou, I'm Holm Apple." And for the first time ever, it was easy saying those words. Because the child would never have heard of him before, probably never heard of the Hollys, and would judge him only on what she saw and heard and how they interacted.
She took one hand away from the large pastry, looked at cinnamon and powdered sweet on her fingers and said a spellword to clean them, then held out her free hand to him.
He kissed her small fingers and she giggled, high and delightfully. After he let her hand go, she immediately went back to eating, and Holm said, "You know, your father is training with me to learn to move better. To dance better," he amended.
Dica swallowed and announced, "Papa's a GraceLord now. He tested and he passed, like in grove study, and we are all nobles. Me, too!"
Holm nodded. "That's an achievement."
She put the last, too big bite, into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, cleansed her hands with a spell couplet and jumped down from the chair. "I can dance!" She whirled, then marched, then stepped a partial pattern of a formal dance, and finally hopped up and down waving her arms.
"Very nice," Holm said. "I can dance, too." He did the same pattern of the formal dance, suppressing memories of his old life, then smoothly transitioned into a simple fighting kata.
"Oooh!" Dica gasped, put her hands over her mouth, dropped them and said, "Can I learn that?"
Holm noticed Allspice giving him the beady eye of a man getting hustled. Holm rolled a shoulder. "She's not too young to start training."
"Hmmph."
A roaring group of young men exited the dressing room into the large training room behind Holm and Allspice. There came an, "Oof, watch it, clumsy!" and a body hitting the mat, rolling to his feet and stomping after his friends, then "You watch it, stupid!" Shoving.
Holm didn't see the action but could predict it accurately enough, and he'd heard sounds like that all his life.
Allspice scooped his child into his arms. Holm tucked his thumbs into his maroon and sky blue belt — the highest color and level a fighter could wear—it might not be Holly green, but he'd won the right to wear the belt, and would do so. He smiled at the GraceLord.
"Training is good for defending herself, too," Allspice said gruffly.
"Or just avoiding pushy-shovey."
"Handling it easily." Allspice nodded. "I'll consider it."
Holm rocked back on his heels, met Dica's gaze. "You could bring your friends, I could start a Young Beginners group." He'd have to tap his G'Uncle Tab for advice, but by the time Holm set up the class, he'd know what to do.
With narrowed eyes, Allspice said slowly, "Training here would also mark my change in status from Commoner to GraceLord." His gaze flicked to the doorway to the large chamber where Holm sensed the young men standing.
"Duels and feuds aren't common here in Gael City but a man holding a title must be able to defend himself." Holm's voice went flat despite his struggle to pretend to be unaffected by recent events.
"That is so." The GraceLord stood straighter, prouder. "There are expectations of what a GraceLord is and can do."
"I'm a GraceMistrys," Dica enthused. "GraceMistrys Dica Allspice."
"Yes, absolutely," Holm said, and bowed to her.
Allspice set his girl down and took her hand, bowed to Holm with the correct inclination of his torso for Holm's status. "We'll think on it."
"I want to be the only one studying," Dica stated. "Not my sister. She doesn't get to come here and learn to dance and avoid pushy-shovey."
"She must be busy with her HeartMate and arranging her marriage," Holm said. He and his HeartMate hadn't had a formal ritual ... yet. Something to think of, but the very thought of Lark eased emotional aches.
"That's right," GraceLord Allspice said.
The young men hovered around the threshold between the