He watched her join the line of dancers, watched her say something to Merry that had them both laughing so hard they missed the first few steps of the dance. He hadn’t been able to make those kinds of friendships, had stood too far apart from the people he ruled. Not by choice; simply because he was who and what he was. But Lucivar, with his hot temper and rough kindness, would have friends who cared about the man. And Marian, with that fire and strength of will beneath her quiet nature, would help him stay connected to the people he ruled.

“High Lord?”

He turned and found the Queen of Riada smiling hesitantly at him, her Consort beside her. “We don’t have an invitation, but we’d like to offer the Prince and his Lady our warmest regards.”

He smiled at them. “It’s an open party. We’d be pleased to have you join us.”

He watched the Queen and her Consort thread their way through the crowd. He saw Jaenelle glance their way and smile. Aristo manners didn’t stand a chance against his daughter. Before those two knew it, they’d be dancing with shopkeepers and helping fill plates as if they did it every day.

Then he looked back at the door and saw her standing there, her eyes hot with suppressed anger. He’d sent her a message as a courtesy because she was Lucivar’s mother. He’d deliberately sent it late as a kindness to his son—and to Marian.

“Luthvian.” It was cold satisfaction to watch her anger change to fear as he walked up to her.

“So,” Luthvian said. “You got your way after all.”

“It wasn’t a contest, Lady.” At least, not for him. He stepped closer, lowered his voice until only she could hear. “I warned you, Luthvian. The only reason you aren’t on your way to Hell is because Lucivar asked me to let it go. I’m going to honor that request—as a wedding present. But if you ever use a spell on Marian again—or try to cast one on Lucivar—I’ll break you. I’ll strip you of your Jewels and your power, strip you down until you have nothing left but basic Craft. And it will be done so fast, no one will be able to stop me.”

She paled but said nothing.

“Now,” Saetan said, fighting to keep his temper reined in. “Will you join us in celebrating your son’s wedding?”

“There’s nothing to celebrate,” she said roughly. Then she turned and walked away.

Lucivar shifted to block Marian’s view. The dark ripples of anger from Saetan and Jaenelle were sufficient warning to tell him who had arrived. He turned slightly so he could watch the door. After what he suspected was a brief, and futile, pissing contest with Saetan, Luthvian walked away.