Marian looked at the roast on the cutting board. It was almost too good to cut up for stew. She looked at the potatoes, carrots, and onions sitting on the counter next to the cutting board and sighed. No, the real reason she felt reluctant to start was that she hadn’t considered how long it would take to cut up a roast into stew-size pieces when she had to use a knife. Using basic Craft, she could have done it in a minute. No help for it. If she didn’t start now, she’d be very late serving the midday meal.

As she reached for the knife, someone knocked sharply on the front door.

Her heart galloped as she stepped into the front room and stared at the door. Maybe it was that Roxie woman again. She hadn’t told Lucivar about the young witch’s second attempt to enter the eyrie when he wasn’t home. She hadn’t mentioned that Roxie had implied she was meeting him in Riada for an afternoon of sex. She hadn’t believed the woman for a minute, but it had made her wonder about things she shouldn’t wonder about—like how he kissed . . . and what it would feel like to be in bed with him.

A second knock, sharper this time.

She could pretend no one was home—or say she’d been in the laundry room and hadn’t heard the knocking if the person mentioned it to Lucivar. No, not the laundry room. That would upset him. She’d say she’d been in her room, resting. Besides, she didn’t want to deal with anyone today.

The High Lord walked through the door, passing through the wood as if the Ebon-gray lock wasn’t there. Of course, the High Lord wore a Black Jewel, so an Ebon-gray lock was little more than a moment’s inconvenience to him.

He stopped as soon as he saw her. His nostrils flared slightly. His expression turned grim, almost menacing.

“What did he do?” Saetan asked too softly.

Marian swallowed to get her heart out of her throat. “What?”

“What did my idiot of a son do?”

If he’d slapped her, he couldn’t have surprised her more. “I don’t understand.”

Saetan moved toward her. “He upset you.”

“No. Yes. It wasn’t . . .” How was she supposed to think when he was staring at her like that?

He made a quiet sound of disgust and shook his head. The next moment, he was leading her back into the kitchen, the hand on her arm sliding up to rest on her shoulder.

She couldn’t say he pushed her into the chair, but she found herself sitting at the pine table without having decided she wanted to sit.