“You love him. He loves you. So tell me why you’re turning away from that love.”

“It’s because I love him!” Marian cried. But the words didn’t seem quite right anymore. “I’m not what he needs.”

“I’ll tell you what he needs,” Saetan roared. “A woman who loves him, who can accept him for who and what he is.”

“I’m not good enough!”

Saetan stared at her. “The only way you wouldn’t be good enough is if you didn’t love him enough. So maybe you’re right after all, Marian. I thought you had more backbone and heart. My error.” He took a step back. “Good day, Lady.”

It was the sneer in the way he said “Lady” that snapped something inside her. And she heard Lucivar’s words again: Don’t let them win. ... If you give up your wings, what else will you give up because someone tells you you’re just a hearth witch?”

“Lucivar,” she whispered. Then, “High Lord!” She jumped over the broken plate and the spilled food and raced for the front door.

He paused on the threshold and turned to face her.

“You have to stop him,” Marian gasped. “You have to help him. Please.”

“Stop what?”

“He’s gone to fight the jhinkas. He’ll get hurt.”

Saetan frowned, then turned away to look out the open door. “If he did, it didn’t take him long. He’s in Riada.” He gave her a strange look, then held out his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you to him.”

She clasped his hand. It didn’t matter what he thought of her. Nothing mattered as long as Lucivar was all right.

Lucivar strode down the main street of Riada, his temper on a choke chain, waiting to blaze. Being alone didn’t comfort him, the land didn’t comfort him. But being away had given him time to think.

Something wasn’t right, and that “something” was the battleground. He’d almost missed that, had almost turned away. Not anymore. If Marian didn’t want to marry him, he’d have to accept it, but she’d have to do better than spew those piss-ass excuses before he walked away.

But before he went back home to corner his hearth witch, he’d coat his temper—and his nerves—with a couple more whiskeys.

As he approached The Tavern, Jaenelle and Merry burst out of the door. A moment later, Saetan dropped from the Winds and appeared in the street. With Marian.

She rushed toward him, then skidded to a stop. Her breathing hitched. Tears filled her eyes as she studied him from head to toe. Then her hands curled into fists, and when she opened her mouth . . .

“You stupid, idiotic . . . male.” Marian blinked back the tears. He was all right. No wounds. Not even bruises. He was all right.

She was so glad to see him she wanted to wring his neck.