A few minutes to add fresh wood to the fire, add more power to the warming spells, and get Marian focused enough to call in a nightgown. Then he bundled them into bed, set his teeth, and shifted his legs until she could warm her feet on him. Damn, they were cold!

She curled up against him and sighed in contentment.

Lucivar brushed his lips against her forehead and smiled. If sex wasn’t enough incentive for his little hearth witch to share his bed, having a man who would keep her feet warm this winter would be.

NINETEEN

After a hard winter, nothing lifted the spirits in quite the same way as the warmth of spring thaw, Marian thought as she went from shop to shop to do the marketing. Even Riada’s muddy streets couldn’t dull her pleasure—especially since Lucivar had taught her how to air walk and she could keep her boots above the mud.

He’d taught her a lot of things over the winter months.

As she considered stopping at The Tavern to chat with Merry and have a quick bowl of soup or stew before going home, she almost ran into the woman who stepped out of a shop directly in her path.

She hadn’t seen Roxie all winter. Didn’t want to see her now.

“Lady Roxie,” Marian said, stepping to one side to go around the other witch.

Roxie stepped into her path again. “You’d better start looking for a new position. When I move into the eyrie, I’m not sharing Lucivar with the likes of you.” She gave Marian one scathing look from head to toe. “I suppose using you for relief was better than using his own hand, but not by much. Once I’m there, Lucivar won’t have any interest in you, and I’m not going to have a servant working for me who doesn’t know her place.”

A chill went through Marian. “What are you talking about?”

“Lucivar’s going to be my lover. I’ll be moving into the eyrie with him any day now.”

Marian shook her head. “He doesn’t want you. He’d never invite you to live with him.”

Something ugly glinted in Roxie’s eyes before she smiled. “He’s not going to have a choice. He’s going to have to do everything I want.”

“He’s the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih,” Marian protested. “You can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He doesn’t serve you.”

“He’s going to,” Roxie said smugly. Then she leaned close to Marian. “I’m going to tell everyone he tried to force himself on me but came to his senses before it became an actual rape. The Queens in Ebon Rih won’t demand an execution—they wouldn’t dare, considering who he’s related to. But I’ll insist that he be made to serve me for a year as the price for the trauma inflicted by his unbridled lust. And they’ll give him to me.”

Marian stared at Roxie, stunned. Accuse Lucivar of rape? The accusation alone would require going before a tribunal of Queens to determine the man’s innocence or guilt, and even if he was declared innocent, the taint of being accused could shadow him the rest of his life. It had happened to a friend of her father’s. Despite being falsely accused, the Warlord had been dismissed from the court—and had ended up leaving Askavi because even his closest friends had turned away from him, afraid their own reputations would be smeared if they were seen with him.

Even though it still chilled her to think about it, she understood why the Warlords who attacked her had planned to kill her. If she had survived the rape and accused them, at the very least, their standing in society would have been ruined. If a nobody hearth witch could ruin aristo Warlords in Terreille, what would an accusation made by an aristo witch do to a man in Kaeleer, where the laws and Protocols were upheld far more strictly?

And if the people in Ebon Rih thought Lucivar was freed because of his family connections rather than because he was truly innocent, it would shatter his life. The Blood here would never continue to accept him as the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih.

“You can’t,” Marian said. “Even if they believed you, even if they did demand that he serve you, he’s an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince. You’d never control him.”

“He’d have to wear a Ring of Obedience,” Roxie replied. “I’ve heard those Rings can control any male.”

Roxie didn’t care that this would ruin him. She just wanted to enslave him, wanted to force him back into that pain he’d endured when he’d lived in Terreille. Lucivar would never obey Roxie willingly, so she’d have to use the Ring to hurt him—and because he’d never shown any interest in her, she would enjoy hurting him.

“You can’t do that to him,” Marian said as something inside her strained to break free.

“Watch me.” Roxie turned and started to walk away.

“No!” Dropping her basket, Marian threw herself at Roxie.

Lucivar pushed his way through the crowd, cursing under his breath. A brawl on the main street of Riada. Just what he needed today. He’d hoped to convince Marian to set aside her chores for an hour to go flying with him since it was a lovely day and she hadn’t had much of a chance to enjoy her recovered skills during the winter. Although that icy free fall they’d performed one sunny afternoon had ended with an enjoyable evening keeping each other warm in bed.

First he’d take care of this mess, then share a midday meal at The Tavern with Jaenelle as they’d planned. After that, he’d go home and see—

He reached the front of the crowd and stared at the two women rolling around in the mud, punching, slapping, and generally trying to tear each other apart.

“Mother Night, Marian,” he said, shaking his head. What in the name of Hell was she doing?

Moving forward, he waited for an opening, then grabbed the back of Marian’s belted cape and yanked. He heard cloth rip as he lifted her enough to get his other hand under her and haul her back out of Roxie’s reach.

He felt her legs tuck up and had a moment to think she was trying to help him set her on her feet before he recognized the intent. Releasing the back of the cape, he pivoted in time to take that two-footed kick on the thigh rather than in the balls. Since he was still holding the front of the cape, when her feet dropped to the ground his fist became the hinge her body swung on. Straightening his arm at the last second prevented her roundhouse punch from connecting with his face hard enough to break his jaw or her hand, but it would still leave a bitch of a bruise.

And that, he thought, was more than enough.

One fast jerk that ripped more seams and she landed on his shoulder with a whoof that knocked the air out of her.

“Bring that one,” he growled as he marched toward The Tavern, which was the closest place that had chairs and enough space to deal with . . . whatever this was.

The crowd, he noted sourly, didn’t move out of his way. Seeing where he was headed, they stampeded toward The Tavern to get ringside seats.

Great. Wonderful. At least they had sense enough to leave two tables empty.

He dumped Marian in an empty chair. When she popped right up again, he shoved her back into the chair and held her arms down as he leaned over her and said in his most menacing voice, “Sit down, Marian. Sit.”

His quiet, gentle hearth witch bared her teeth and snarled at him.

He would have kissed her for finally producing a decent snarl except he was fairly sure she’d bite him if he tried, and then she’d feel bad. Not as bad as he would, but once she came to her senses, she’d feel bad about doing it.

He kept Marian locked to the chair while two men brought a wailing Roxie into the tavern and settled her at the other empty table. Whatever had gotten Marian so riled up was still churning through her, so when he finally stepped back, he made sure she’d have to go through him in order to tangle with Roxie again.

“Now,” he snarled as he looked at the people crowded into the tavern’s main room, “what in the name of Hell is going on?”

“She attacked me!” Roxie wailed. “Just because I told her she wasn’t going to work for us after I moved into the eyrie.”

“Since you’re never going to move into the eyrie while I’m still living there, that’s not a problem,” Lucivar snapped. He looked at Marian and shook his head. “Is that what this is about? Didn’t it occur to you she was lying?”

“Of course I knew she was lying,” Marian snapped back. “But she said—”

“I am going to live with you!” Roxie shouted as she continued to sob. “You want me. You know you do. When I was in your bed—”

“I told you I’d slit your throat if I ever found you there again,” Lucivar said.

A collective gasp. Then the room fell silent.

“You didn’t mean it,” Roxie sobbed. “You were bluffing to—”

“I don’t bluff.”

Roxie stared at him.

Disgusted, Lucivar turned back to Marian. “Was that the whole of it? What else did she say?”

He saw Marian’s eyes shift from side to side, taking in all the people waiting for her answer. He watched her temper fade and her usual quiet nature surface.

“Nothing,” she said.

There was more. He could tell by the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes that there was more. Well, he’d get it out of her after he got her back to the eyrie and checked her over to make sure the minor cuts and bruises he could see were the worst of her injuries.

“What else did she say?” asked a midnight voice from the doorway.

Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. The last thing he needed right now was Jaenelle stepping into this.

Marian looked at the Black Jewel hanging from the chain around Jaenelle’s neck, then looked into those sapphire eyes—and swallowed hard.