Not likely, Marian thought, shifting slightly to block the doorway. “Prince Yaslana is not at home.”

“Then I’ll wait for him.”

The woman took a step forward. Marian didn’t step back.

“That won’t be possible,” Marian said, working to remain polite. “He may not be back until quite late.”

“He won’t mind if I make myself comfortable,” the woman insisted.

Where? There were only three rooms in the eyrie that were furnished, and Marian didn’t think this woman intended to sit in the kitchen.

It probably would be easier to say she wasn’t permitted to let anyone enter the eyrie. After all, a servant had to obey her employer. But it wasn’t Yaslana’s order that kept her blocking the door; it was her own dislike of the woman that kept her from stepping back. There was something calculating about this stranger, and there was meanness lurking in the backs of her eyes.

“If you would like to leave a message,” Marian said, “I’ll give it to Prince Yaslana as soon as he returns.”

The meanness filled the woman’s face for a moment before she shifted her hips, pushed out her chest, and smiled in a way Marian supposed was meant to be sultry.

“The message I have for Lucivar isn’t something I’d leave with you.”

“In that case, good evening, Lady,” Marian said. As she closed the door, the woman shouted, “I won’t forget this!”

Neither will I, Marian thought as she slid the bolts back into place. She’d bet a month’s wages that she’d just met the reason Yaslana had Ebon-gray locks on his doors.

NINE

NINE

Lucivar strode over the rock-cleared ground, working up from annoyance to being thoroughly pissed off as he watched Marian set herself to try to lift a rock that weighed more than she did. One slashing look at Tassle was enough to prevent the young wolf from announcing his presence. The fact that his little hearth witch was so focused—or so exhausted—she wasn’t even aware of him coming up behind her just made his temper more volatile and his control more slippery.

But he would stay calm.

She groaned a little as she tried to get a better grip on the rock.

He would be reasonable.

She braced herself to try again.

He was on her in a heartbeat, his arms going around her, his hands clamping down on her wrists to keep her from jerking upward. Not that she could move much, with his arms locking her wings against her body, his chest pressed against her back, and his legs bracing hers.