or permacrete—to be cycled as Holm needed.
And that would be expensive.
His brain stopped. He had no money, no gilt, at all.
His father had confiscated Holm's personal account as belonging to HollyHeir, as it had. Holm hadn't separated his own noblegilt salary, the money he'd received from the Councils for any quests they sent him on—minimal—from any other funds.
He'd rarely given personal money any thought. Anything he'd needed had been charged to the Holly Family accounts.
He'd always worked ... for his father, GreatLord T'Holly, learning how to be a good lord, how to handle their affairs and property. He'd also worked at the Family enterprise owned and run by his G'Uncle Tab, The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon, training and giving private lessons, taking part in melees, whatever G'Uncle Tab needed. And done his annual noblegilt duty.
But Holm had never actually been paid by his Family for HollyHeir duties. Or had a bank account not linked with his Family. Had never had to consider whether he could actually afford to purchase something.
He'd been so blindsided by the disowning, so emotionally staggered, that he hadn't considered his "individual" money ... Well, he'd never considered any of his gilt personal. All went into the Family coffers, and he charged whatever he needed to the Family.
Now he had nothing.
Where would he get the money, the gilt, to pay someone for the shields? And they wouldn't be the best shields, because the best practitioners with the most Flair, psychic magical power, lived in Druida City. If he wanted the best, he'd have to bring them down ... and he had no idea how to pay them.
"What's wrong?" Lark asked, and Holm realized he'd folded over, hands braced on knees, panting as if he'd fought several hearty bouts in a row.
"I have no gilt," he ground out.
Laughter rippled from her, and it speared him that she didn't share his consternation. She patted him lightly on the back, and sent him a wash of comfort ... tinged with amusement. "That's all right, I have plenty. Not only the noblegilt the Councils pay me for my services, but a very nice salary for being the new head of the Gael City HealingHall."
"Good," he said through stiff and cold lips. Before he could straighten, both young cats hopped on his lower back, crawled up to his shoulders. Fun! said Phyll.
We don't cost much! Meserve's whiskers tickled Holm's right ear. Holm wondered how his Fam knew about gilt and expenses, where he'd learned of it.
Slowly, Holm straightened and his HeartMate continued to rub his back in a soothing manner. Easy to recall that she'd been estranged from her own FirstFamily GreatLord father, married a commoner and lived with that commoner husband outside the Family Residence while they both worked at HealingHalls.
Lark had handled all the details of this little family's move. So she'd help him get through this, and teach him.
He stiffened his spine, but kept his knees loose and ready to respond to any threat. Plucking Phyll from his left shoulder, he handed the Fam to Lark. With a controlled pivot, he scanned the room. "This will do very well." But he wondered how much it would cost to shield the mirrors, and the expenses of getting a business up and running. Another thing he had no notion about.
Lark nodded. "A good and simple space." She patted Phyll and his purr filled the room, augmented by his Flair-magic. So Meserve purred too, in competition, bouncing the warm sound off the mirrors.
"Enough!" Lark laughed and put her cat down on the floor. Holm dropped Meserve, who landed lightly.
But the three of them had worked together to ease his anxiety, and the very fact that they knew he was anxious irritated him. Reminded him of the recent past.
He'd thought he'd gotten over having to be perfect as the golden boy of the Hollys, the HollyHeir, fulfilling all such expectations of that status.
Perhaps so, but he'd discovered a new and unwelcome negative emotion seeded inside him.
Feeling useless. Worthless. Like his father had made him feel when he'd been disowned. His whole life and purpose ripped away.
Yes, he'd have to follow plans he'd made but hadn't accepted at an emotional level. He'd have to accept help just to survive, let alone flourish, and do that gracefully. He'd have to grow and become Holm Apple.
Also accept he'd create his new life here, in Gael City.
Sucking in a deep breath, he cast a final glance around the main room. He'd check out the dressing