“I know. That’s why we don’t let her play in the kitchen.”

Marian shook her head. “How can she not be able to boil an egg? You don’t even need Craft for it. All she did was put the eggs in the water.” She blew out a breath. “How can you end up with eggs that have the whites fully cooked and the yolks still raw?”

“I don’t know. My father thinks it’s because she’s so powerful that some things don’t react as expected.”

“I thought I’d explained something wrong,” Marian said. “So after she left, I cooked the rest of the eggs. They’re perfect.” She wobbled in her chair. “Jaenelle felt so bad when she left.”

“Your offer to teach her was a kind gesture,” Lucivar said. “But, Marian? This is a witch who, when she was sixteen, blew up the kitchen at the Hall because she confused the spell she was putting together with the casserole she and her friend Karla were making and put the wrong mixture in the oven. Think about that for a minute. Casserole. Spell. They couldn’t tell the difference by looking at what was in the dishes.”

“She blew up the kitchen?”

“Destroyed it. Right down to the last wooden spoon.”

Marian shuddered.

“So the next time you want to do something kind for Jaenelle, make her a casserole or bake some nutcakes. But don’t let her play in the kitchen.”

Putting a shield around his hands so he wouldn’t drip yolk, Lucivar walked over to the sink and used Craft to turn on the water taps. As he washed his hands, he said, “Do I dare ask what’s for dinner?”

Marian hiccuped. “Eggs.”

He turned off the water and sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

SIXTEEN

SIXTEEN

“I have work,” Marian said as Lucivar hauled her out of the kitchen and into the eyrie’s front room. Tassle followed them, making worried little huffy sounds.

“The work will still be there an hour from now,” Lucivar replied.

She looked at the thick drops of rain hitting the glass doors that led to the lawn beyond. If it got any colder, that rain would turn to snow. “You’re just doing this because you’re bored.”

Using Craft, Lucivar moved the furniture against the walls, leaving a large bare circle of stone floor. “If I was bored, I’d go to the Hall and annoy my father. That perks up both our days.”

Bet it doesn’t perk them up in the same way, Marian thought. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Whining about it won’t do you any good.”

Whining? She bristled at the insult. She wasn’t whining. She was pointing out the obvious to a thickheaded male. Females did not use Eyrien weapons. Ask any Eyrien male—except the one standing in front of her—and he’d tell you that.