When the skillet came back again, she reached for it, her mind full of the useful things the kitchen still needed. But Lucivar just held on to the skillet. He gave her a lazy, arrogant smile, but the unhappiness in his eyes ripped at her.

“That’s it,” he said, leading her back to the kitchen. “You won. Three out of three. As soon as you feel up to shopping, make your purchases.”

Was that why he was so unhappy? Was he worried about the expense? Maybe she should ask him how much she could spend.

He released her arm, set the skillet on the counter, and started to walk away.

“Prince?”

He stopped at the archway and looked at her. “You do what you have to, Marian. If you have to scrub and polish this place when every move hurts you just to prove you can do your work, then that’s what you’ll do. Short of fighting you to a standstill, I can’t stop you. But I can’t stay here and watch you do it. We’ll work with the skillet again in a few days—and we’ll keep working at it until you can use it as a weapon.”

He moved fast. She had to dash to the archway to reach it before he reached the front door.

“Are you coming back for the midday meal?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be back.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t hesitate. He slammed the front door behind him.

Marian sank down on one of the kitchen chairs and braced her head in her hands. He got mad at her for sweeping up spilled sugar but dragged her outside to throw a skillet at bales of hay. She threw a pot at him and missed, so he was going to teach her how to clobber him with a skillet. Even taking into account that he was an Eyrien male, there was only one explanation for his behavior. The man was insane.

And she’d made him unhappy. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d made him unhappy. Of course, she would have told him she’d intended to take things easy today if he hadn’t roared at her as soon as he walked into the kitchen, so it was sort of his own fault that he was unhappy now. Which didn’t make her feel any better.

Her eyes filled with tears. Not only did she feel guilty for making him unhappy, but now that she was alone, her body was screaming at her and, Mother Night, she hurt.