Spending Winsol, the winter holiday that was a celebration of the Darkness, at the Hall had been fun and dazzling. She’d felt disappointed that Andulvar and Prothvar Yaslana hadn’t been there, since she’d been hoping to meet them, but meeting the coven almost made up for that. There had been long walks and snowball fights, afternoons when the women had gathered to talk and laugh. During one of those afternoons, it had suddenly occurred to her that the women who were including her as if she were one of them were the Queens who ruled their respective Territories. But they didn’t seem to notice that she was just a hearth witch, just a housekeeper. And the looks on their faces the day she’d told them she’d spent the morning with Mrs. Beale, helping prepare the midday meal . . .

No one, she was told, was allowed in Mrs. Beale’s kitchen.

It was probably for the best that she hadn’t mentioned trading recipes with the woman who ruled the Hall’s kitchen.

Then there was Lucivar. Seeing him with his family, the coven, and the boyos had been a revelation. Demanding and yielding, stubborn and considerate, arguing with one of them and defending that person in the next breath. He’d insisted on morning workouts, which hadn’t pleased her until she discovered the whole coven showed up without grumbling. Watching them move through the warmups, watching them spar with him and each other, she realized how serious he was about witches being comfortable using weapons in order to defend themselves. And watching him spar with Jaenelle . . . Her heart had been in her throat the whole time she watched that violent dance.

But the biggest difference was the way he’d responded to her. Ever since the day when he’d promised to help her learn to fly again, he’d been touching her, giving her easy, friendly kisses. The kisses he’d given her at the Hall made her wonder, made her hungry. They were the kisses of a man who wanted. Except he hadn’t asked if he could come to her bed, hadn’t invited her to come to his. So she wasn’t sure what those kisses meant, but she wondered what it would be like to be with him.

And she shouldn’t wonder. She was his housekeeper. It would be too easy to forget that if she responded to him as a woman.

Had he wanted her to invite him? Was that why he was so testy now?

Marian looked out the kitchen window. The snow was falling so fast now, she couldn’t see anything.

Where was he?

Lucivar stood on a mountain ledge on the other side of Ebon Rih, watching the storm come over the mountains. It matched his mood, matched a temper already primed to explode.