*And you will report to me after you’ve dealt with it,* Jaenelle replied. *If Roxie’s taste for manipulating and controlling males has reached this point, it’s not just your life that’s at risk, Prince Yaslana.*

*I’m aware of that, Lady. I’ll deal with it.*

Jaenelle nodded. Then her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Marian. *She has no injuries that require more healing skill than you possess, but I can do the healing if you prefer.*

*My thanks, Lady, but I’ll take care of her.* He sent a touch of arrogance through the psychic thread. *Besides, she owes me for trying to kick my balls into my throat.*

*I see. Then you must be pleased that she learned the lessons you insisted on teaching her.*

*She still punches like a girl.* He rubbed his sore jaw. *For the most part.*

He felt a hint of amusement from her, which was exactly what he’d hoped for. Her rage had turned aside, but it wouldn’t take much to bring it back with lethal results. As much as he loved her, he breathed a sigh of relief when she walked out of The Tavern and caught the Winds to go back to the Keep.

Which left him with his muddy, bruised hearth witch and the sobbing bitch.

“You two,” he said, pointing to the two Warlords who had assisted Roxie into the tavern. “Escort Lady Roxie home and inform her father that I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“I want her punished!” Roxie wailed as the two men hauled her to her feet. “She attacked me! I want her punished!”

And I want you dead, Lucivar thought. But we can’t always have what we want.

He waited until Roxie was gone before turning to Marian. “As for you . . .”

She shrank back in the chair, her courage gone.

Shaking his head, he hauled her out of the chair. “Come on, witchling. Let’s get you home while you can still move. You’re not going to believe how sore you’ll be by tomorrow.”

“Don’t you worry about setting a meal on the table, Marian,” Merry called. “I’ll pack a basket and bring up a few dishes in a little while.”

“Basket,” Marian gasped. “My carry basket. All my shopping.”

Taking the easy way out of this discussion, Lucivar dumped her over his shoulder, walked out of The Tavern, and caught a Wind that would take them home.

“I’m sorry,” Marian said, trying not to wince as Lucivar ripped her clothes off. They were past repairing anyway, and since she was the reason he was limping and had a rather impressive bruise blooming on his jaw, she figured she shouldn’t argue with him about the clothes.