He approached her slowly. No smile. No light words. He reached out and stroked her hair, watching her. He kissed her forehead, something he’d done frequently since the day she threw the pot at him. Then he kissed her mouth. A restrained kiss that made no demands—and left her wishing he would make a few.

“I’ll help you fly again,” he said as he stepped back. “Get your cape. We’ll still go down to the village for a meal.”

Wondering how soon they could start working to restore her flying skills, she hurried to obey. As she reached the steps that led to the rest of the eyrie, he said, “Marian?”

She turned.

He grinned at her. “Learning how to fly again isn’t going to get you out of learning the sticks. Just so we’re clear on that.”

Hell’s fire, she thought as she hurried to her room to brush her hair and get her cape. She hadn’t thought about doing both. The time it would take out of her daily schedule . . . But he’d already locked the gate on any argument she could make.

Somehow that didn’t annoy her as much as it should have.

SEVENTEEN

SEVENTEEN

Marian paused at the side door of the eyrie and looked at the dark, heavy clouds coming over the mountains. No gentle snowfall this time, but a mean storm that would bury Ebon Rih for days. Hopefully, Lucivar would get home before it hit.

*Tassle?* she called on a psychic thread.

*I am returning to the den,* Tassle replied.

Good. A kindred wolf would know how to find shelter if he was caught out in a storm, but she’d feel easier having him at the eyrie.

Hurrying into the mud room, she shook the snow off her heavy cape before hanging it on the pegs to dry. She traded her boots for soft house shoes, then went into the kitchen to put away the food she’d bought to last them through the storm.

As she unpacked her cloth market bags, she kept glancing out the window. The snow was already coming down fast. A hard gust of wind turned the world white and blind for a moment. Then she caught a glimpse of Tassle at the far end of her garden and breathed a sigh of relief. One of her males was home and safe. Now if the other one . . .

For the past few days, ever since they’d returned from celebrating Winsol at his father’s house, Lucivar had been on edge. He denied there was anything wrong, but the looks he’d given her were close to hostile. Something was putting his back up, and she suspected it had to do with her.