Marcum turned to speak to his niece but immediately noted the young woman’s flushed cheeks, furrowed brow, and pursed lips, along with the furious glare she was directing at the young woman on the other couch. He turned his attention to the distasteful blonde and saw that she sat moon-eyed halfway into Rezkin’s lap. Rezkin, to his credit, leaned far from the young woman, and his attention was on the general’s own wife. It was not an appreciative gaze but one of calculation.

Marcum repressed a shiver and looked to see what was so interesting about his wife to the young man. Adelina was watching the captain with a small satisfied smile, and Jimson kept his eyes uncomfortably focused on the rug; although, Marcum did catch the man’s involuntary glace at the blonde woman and the subsequent clenching of the jaw as his eyes returned to studiously examining the pattern of the carpet. Tamarin was the only one not caught in the web, and he looked as though he was ready to bolt from his chair to stop Frisha from doing something rash.

What a mess, and half of it is of your own making, Marcum thought to himself. Clearing his throat loudly, Marcum abruptly asked, “Rezkin, would you mind pouring us some wine?”

The young man raised a questioning brow and then practically leapt from his seat. “Of course, General.” The agile young man skillfully maneuvered so that he did not have to make physical contact with the fawning woman, but she shamelessly watched his backside as he crossed the room. At least Frisha had been distracted by the sudden, almost cordial exchange between the young man and the general.

Rezkin poured wine into goblets and passed them around the room. The general’s niece was so preoccupied with watching Rezkin’s graceful stride and notable physique that she failed to notice the petite blonde doing the same. Jimson continued to shift uncomfortably, but he smiled and thanked Rezkin for his glass. The captain did not seem to hold it against Rezkin that the young woman he fancied was infatuated with the enigmatic warrior. Truly, Jimson seemed like a good man. Marcum wondered if he could redirect the captain’s interest to Frisha. The general glanced back at the menacing sword bearer and reconsidered that notion. Such an endeavor probably would not be good for the captain’s health.