Polli pressed herself into a corner and started muttering about it being her moontime, her stock reaction to being within a male’s reach.

Thera’s answer to the unspoken challenge was to turn aside just enough for him to reach the door and leave.

He wasn’t sure if it was seeing the Gray Lady in pain or Thera’s dismissal that scraped at his temper, but by the time he reached the other men, he was looking for a fight.

And the best target was the sulky boy who had started all this.

Grabbing Eryk’s coat, Jared hauled the boy up until he could look right into Eryk’s startled blue eyes. Then he bared his teeth, and snarled, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t beat the shit out of you.”

Eryk wailed, “I’m an aristo! My family’s important!”

Pulling the boy so close their noses almost touched, Jared said with murderous calm, “Well, now you’re an aristo slave, and your family’s not here. But I am. You feeling cocky enough to take on a pissed-off Red-Jeweled Warlord? Because I won’t hold back or pull back.” As his anger swelled and became hot enough to burn away his control, Jared gave Eryk a fierce shake. “Don’t you realize what could have happened? You put us all at risk! Didn’t that aristo family of yours teach you anything about courtesy and honor? We could have all been hurt because of you!”

“I don’t care!” Eryk weakly pounded Jared’s arms and shoulders. “I hate you! I hate you! I hope she does hurt you!”

Jared shoved him. Hard.

Eryk’s feet shot out from under him. With his arms frantically windmilling, he landed on his back. Then he just lay there in the mud, looking up at the circle of grim-faced, hard-eyed men.

Jared wondered if, or when, Eryk would realize Brock had been standing close enough to catch him and didn’t.

Brock opened his coat and hooked his thumbs into his wide leather belt. He stared at Eryk for a moment before meeting Jared’s eyes. “Much as it shames me to admit it, he and I come from the same Territory. So if we decide it’s a strapping, the duty falls to me.”

Jared looked at the boy who, finally, began to realize the price of his behavior and then at the tall, solidly built Warlord who had trained as a guard. He didn’t doubt Brock would apply his belt with the kind of force the boy wouldn’t forget for a long time, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the emotional blows that had been delivered in those boyish taunts—and he couldn’t stop thinking about the Lady’s comment about some scars not being visible.