*She wouldn’t stay?* he asked Saetan on an Ebon-gray spear thread.

*No, she wouldn’t stay.*

*So be it.* It stung that she wouldn’t make the effort to wish him happy, but he wasn’t surprised. She’d tried to drive Marian away, and she’d failed. That would be a sharp little bone in her throat for a long time to come. And the sad truth was, although she was his mother, she wasn’t family.

“Lucivar?”

Before Marian had a chance to ask him what was wrong, a voice said, “So, Cousin. This is the Lady who captured your heart.”

Lucivar grinned as Marian stared at the Red-Jeweled Eyrien Warlord standing before her. “Sweetheart, this is my cousin, Prothvar Yaslana.”

“Oh, my,” she squeaked.

Prothvar smiled. “I’m hoping my new cousin will honor me with a dance.”

“Wait your turn, puppy,” another male voice said. “This dance is mine.”

He felt her tense, saw her eyes go wide as she stared at the older Eyrien Warlord Prince. “And this is my uncle Andulvar.”

“The Demon Prince,” she whispered.

Her knees buckled. He grabbed her under the arms and hauled her back up. And he saw the hesitation, and a hint of sadness, in Andulvar’s eyes as the older man started to step back.

“The Demon Prince asked me to dance,” Marian said, still wobbling a little. She leaned against his chest and looked up at him. “Do I look all right?”

She looked beautiful. “You have a smudge on your nose.” Adorable, as she scrubbed at the nonexistent smudge. She was still a little wobbly when she gave Andulvar a brilliant smile and held out her hand.

“She’s delightful, Cousin,” Prothvar said as they watched Marian and Andulvar waltz.

“Yes, she is,” Lucivar replied. And she’s mine.

Which is why he cut in on his uncle halfway through the dance. “Mine,” he said, giving Andulvar a hard tap on the shoulder.

“Possessive little puppy, aren’t you?” Andulvar said, stepping aside.

“Damn right,” Lucivar replied as he swept his hearth witch into the dance.

“That was rude,” Marian scolded.

He grinned. “And your point is?”

She huffed—and struggled not to laugh.

He slowed the steps until they were doing little more than swaying in each other’s arms. “Jaenelle suggested we spend a few days at her house in Scelt for a honeymoon.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconven—”

“She also said she would talk to the Queen of Sceval so that I could take you there to meet some of the unicorns.”

“Unicorns? Really?”

“If you want. We can do anything you want. You can have anything you want.”

“You,” she said softly. “I want you.”

Her words warmed every part of him. Warmed one part in particular.

He nibbled on her ear and whispered, “Are you going to let me fuss over you tonight?”