“Do you think this is easy for me?” Luthvian snapped. “Mother Night, woman, he comes from the SaDiablo family . They aren’t going to accept anything less than an accomplished witch from an aristo family for Lucivar’s wife.”

“But—They like me.”

“Of course they like you! You cook his meals, clean his home, give him regular sex that makes him easier to deal with. Why shouldn’t they like you? But like is a far cry from accepting you beyond your role as housekeeper and bedmate. They know you’re only a temporary pleasure for him. So why shouldn’t they be friendly? But that’s all you are, Marian. That’s all you can be. You don’t have the education, the accomplishments, or the family connections that would make you an acceptable mate for a man who can trace his bloodlines to the High Lord and Andulvar Yaslana.”

Luthvian raked a hand through her hair and looked at Marian sadly. “Even if he asks you to marry him, you’ll always be the outsider, never quite be one of them. You don’t really comprehend the power that family wields. When they start discussing spells and magic that is so far beyond you they might as well be dancing on the moon, what are you going to offer? A new recipe for nutcakes? When they’re entertaining Queens and their courts, are you going to sit in the corner with your knitting? Don’t you want a home that’s really your own? Children who won’t be measured by their father’s potential and be found wanting? And what about Lucivar? Are you going to use sex to chain him to a woman who is less than he deserves?”

Tears thickened in Marian’s throat. “I’m not chaining him with anything.”

“Then let him go. Find a man who doesn’t have obligations that you can never help him meet. Mother Night, Marian, I’m begging you. Let my son go.” Looking defeated, Luthvian fastened her cloak and pushed away from the table. “If you truly love him, do this for him.”

“I can’t think,” Marian choked back the tears. “I need to think.”

“Then think,” Luthvian said softly. “But if you wait too long, binding Lucivar to you will bring nothing but heartache.”

Marian couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. When she heard Luthvian leave, she pushed the cups aside, pillowed her head in her arms, and wept.

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-THREE

Standing on the mountain where he could look down at his home, Lucivar brushed a finger across the two marriage rings in the jeweler’s box. Something was wrong with Marian, had been wrong since yesterday. But she wouldn’t talk to him, was shutting him out. Even in bed last night, her response had been discouraging enough that he’d given up after a few kisses.