His anticipation of having her home again suddenly tangled with an attack of nerves. What if she hated what he’d done here in the past two days? What if she was disappointed?

Then he saw her coming up the last few steps. She looked tired. She looked wonderful. He wanted to sweep her up into his arms and hold on, just to be close to her. Because he couldn’t do that, he stood waiting, motionless.

Marian smiled at him when she reached the flagstones, with Jaenelle right behind her. Since his nerves were fraying, he directed a searing look—and his temper—at his sister. “You’re late.”

“Marian and I had been talking about books, and since we stopped at the town house in Amdarh overnight, we waited until the book shops opened this morning,” Jaenelle replied coolly.

Marian hurried toward him, stopping just out of reach. “It’s my fault. There were so many books to choose from, and I hadn’t realized you’d expected me back at a . . . particular . . .” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the new stone wall and the wooden gate that opened off the courtyard. Silent, she went over to the gate, opened it, and followed the flagstone path Tarl had laid out around the beds that were bordered by stone or wood. She looked around, saying nothing.

“I don’t know what’s got you in such a snit this morning,” Jaenelle said as she came up beside him, “but whatever it is—” She stopped. Looked. “Oh. Oh, Lucivar.”

He watched her follow the same path, watched her touch Marian’s shoulder. And he felt a sharp stab in the gut when Marian turned and he saw tears in her eyes.

“You did well, Prince,” Saetan said quietly.

Lucivar turned his back on the two women now holding each other. “Yeah. I did so well, I made her cry.”

“Underneath her quiet nature, she is a woman of strong emotions. You gave her a gift that means something. Did you expect her to respond with a polite ‘thank you’?”

“I didn’t expect her to cry,” Lucivar muttered. Since he didn’t want to deal with weepy females, he studied the man. The pride, and approval, in Saetan’s eyes went a long way toward easing his nerves.

As Saetan walked to the other side of the courtyard to look at the walled yard and borders Tarl and the other men had planted, Lucivar noticed the slight limp that marred his father’s normally smooth stride. Which meant Saetan’s bad leg was bothering him—something it only did when he worked it too hard.

“Why are you here?” Lucivar asked.

“To complete my escort duties,” Saetan replied.

Lucivar frowned. “Why were you doing escort duties?”