He shuddered. The High Lord of Hell actually shuddered. That, more than anything, made her wonder what Lucivar remembered about the past three days.

Setting the tea aside, Saetan rose. “Well. I have things to see to.”

Another strong man tucking his tail between his legs and running away because of the rut.

“Thank you for stopping by, High Lord.”

He gave her a wan smile. “It was my pleasure, Lady.”

She doubted that, but she smiled and stayed in the kitchen until she was sure he was gone. After making a cup of tea for herself, she sat at the table for a long time.

It must have required a kind of steely courage for the High Lord to come to the eyrie, not knowing what he might find, what kind of damage he might have to try to repair. Remembering the stories she’d heard about Warlord Princes, she had to admit he and Lucivar both had a valid reason for asking if she needed a Healer. It hadn’t occurred to her that Lucivar wouldn’t know she didn’t need one.

Maybe Lucivar’s bolting this morning hadn’t been meant as a rejection. If he hadn’t cared, at least a little, he wouldn’t have been as concerned about what had happened during the rut, would he?

She sighed. There was nothing she could do to settle things between them until he came back, so she might as well get some work done.

After bundling up again, she opened the front door—and stared. There wasn’t so much as a flake of snow on the entire flagstone courtyard except for Tassle’s den.

Taking the hint, Marian went back inside. She’d clean Lucivar’s bedroom and make some soup. And she wouldn’t allow herself to wonder if he was afraid to come home because of things he couldn’t remember.

Saetan waited throughout the day, knowing Lucivar would come to him before going to the eyrie. It had been easy enough to keep track of his son. It hadn’t been easy to resist summoning Lucivar to the Keep to offer what reassurance he could. But a summons of any kind would be misunderstood, and Lucivar’s fear had bordered on panic too many times during the day to dare give him any kind of push.

Finally, as the afternoon waned, Lucivar walked into the room where Saetan waited. He looked exhausted, and his hands trembled a little as he poured himself a glass of brandy.

“You saw her,” Lucivar said, staring into the glass for a moment before he gulped the brandy and poured another glass.

“I saw her,” Saetan replied.

“Did she need a Healer? I asked, but . . .”

“No, she didn’t need a Healer.”

Lucivar sagged with relief. “Is she . . . upset?”