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He leaped over the flower beds, lightly touched down on the stone wall, then launched himself skyward toward clean air…and away from a place that now filled him with pain.
"Lucivar," Marian whispered as she watched him slice the sky before he caught one of the Winds and disappeared.
What had she done? And why? She was doing it for him, wasn't she? Doing what was best. But… Her head felt stuffy, like it was full of cobwebs. So hard to think. But something wasn't right.
He'd been so hurt. He shouldn't have been hurt. Good enough to bed, but not good enough to marry? How could he think that? How terrible if he believed that. How could she leave while he was hurting so much?
She walked back into the eyrie and tried to settle herself with the familiar tasks of cooking and baking. She'd wanted to be sure there was plenty for him to eat that he wouldn't have to fuss over while he was looking for a new housekeeper. Wanted to be sure he was cared for before she…
I love him. I don't want to go. Why do I have to go?She couldn't think properly. Something didn't feel right. But he hadn't demanded that she leave, so she had a little time to figure it out.
Luthvian stood on the edge of the flagstone courtyard, glad she'd shrouded herself in a sight shield before climbing the steps from the landing place. Lucivar would have detected her if he hadn't been so off balance, but Marian never would.
The compulsion spell had worked, but not well enough. The little hearth bitch was fighting it. If she'd been able to wrap the spell around Marian, everything would be done by now. But if Lucivar had sensedany kind of spell, he would have summoned his father to help him identify and break it, and Saetan… No, it wouldn't do to have Saetan become aware of that spell. So she'd wrapped the compulsion spell around her own voice, and her words had stuck to Marian like warm tar.
But not enough. Caution had forced her to keep the spell light. Too light, it seemed. Because it was clear to her that Marian would try to remain as Lucivar's housekeeper, and if the hearth witch was still here when the spell wore off completely…
No. She wasn't going to have her son married to a hearth witch.
It might look suspicious to show up so soon after Lucivar's departure, so she'd wait an hour and return to give the compulsion spell a little boost…one that would get Marian out of the eyrie… and out of Lucivar's life.
Merry threw a shawl around her shoulders. "Briggs, can you watch things for a little while?"
"Sure I can, but where are you going?"
She saw the worry in her husband's eyes. He had reason to worry. They both did. Lucivar had never walked into their tavern at opening time to gulp down three double whiskeys before he stormed out again, his eyes full of fury and pain. The Prince of Ebon Rih needed help, and there were only two people she could think of who could give it to him right now.
"I think Lady Angelline is staying at her cottage. I'm going to try to
find her." And if she couldn't find Jaenelle, she'd go to the Keep. The Seneschal would know how to reach the Queen or the High Lord.
"Be careful, Merry."
"That I will." But as she left the tavern, she glanced up at the mountain where Lucivar made his home…and wondered what had happened there.
Lucivar strode into the room that had become Saetan's study at the Keep. Part of him wished he was still a child who could climb into his father's lap for comfort. He was too much of a warrior to ask for emotional comfort, so he settled for a fight that would let him vent the hurt inflicted by Marian's words.
"I asked Marian to be my wife," Lucivar said. He saw Saetan tense and wondered if Marian had been right after all. Would his father have been opposed to the marriage?
"You don't seem pleased about that," Saetan said in a neutral voice.
"She turned me down."
"Why?"
"Because I'm the High Lord's son." As soon as he said it, he realized he didn't want to fight after all…at least, not with words. But as he turned away from the desk and headed for the door, his own pain pushed him into making one more reckless verbal jab. "So you don't have to worry about the SaDiablo bloodline being diminished by a witch who hasn't got the education or the accomplishments to…"
The door slammed shut with a force that shook the room.
Lucivar spun around in time to see Saetan slowly rising from the chair behind the desk.
"You will not do this," Saetan snarled softly as he came around the desk. "You will not use me like this."
Wary now, his heart pounding because of what he saw in his father's eyes, Lucivar said, "Like what? I…"
That deep voice became thunder."You will not use me as a weaponagainst your own heart!"
"I'm not. I didn't."
Saetan slipped into the Hayllian language. Words poured out in a hot
river. Lucivar didn't understand most of it, but he caught a few phrases here and there, as well as the name Peyton.
I lanced an old wound,Lucivar thought with regret as a rage and pain he couldn't begin to match flooded the room.I wouldn't have pushed athim if I'd known I'd open an old wound.
"Father." No response."Father."
The words stopped, but the rage still vibrated through the room.
"I didn't mean that. I'm sorry I said that." His own temper rose. "I'm not the one who used you as a weapon. And those excuses are nothing but shit." Since he couldn't get out of the room until Saetan let him go, he paced. "Just shit. Like that'I'm just a hearth witch' crap she was spewing. I thought we'd gotten past that. Guess I was wrong." Beaten, he stopped pacing. "The truth is, she doesn't want an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince as a husband. She's willing to bed one, but not marry one. That has nothing to do with me being your son… and everything to do with me, with who and what I am."
He turned toward the door. "Let me go."
"Where?" Saetan asked too softly.
"Just away from people. Out on the land."
The door opened. He fled the Keep…and wondered what that blank-ness in Saetan's eyes meant.
Marian scrambled out of the way as Luthvian pushed past her into the eyrie's front room.
"You wouldn't listen, would you?" Luthvian growled."Wouldn't heed the warning. Well, I hope you're satisfied, little witch."
"I did what you asked," Marian cried. "I told him I wouldn't marry him when he asked me this morning."
"But you intend to stay here, don't you, pouring salt on the wound? Keeping just enough of a tie so there's no clean break that will heal."
