Her path ruler-straight and her face placid, she walked past Marshal and me. “’Morning,” she said, no clue to her mood in her voice as she vanished into the darkness of the hall. The collar to her jacket was up, and I think she’d been bitten in an intentionally obvious place. My thoughts jerked back to Rynn Cormel, and a feeling of anger burned. He had taken her last night, making his claim in an obvious, indisputable way. I’d known it was coming, and Ivy said it was expected, but it still seemed degrading to me.

Marshal shifted uneasily, and my attention returned to him. He was standing over me, and I suddenly realized what it must have looked like to Ivy. He hadn’t been there to give me a kiss, but he had been in the right place for it.

Ivy slammed a kitchen cupboard door shut, and Marshal jumped.

“I’d, ah, better go.”

I pulled the afghan up around my shoulders as he started for the front door. Stretching to feel every ache the couch had put in me, I followed him. The pixies were loud outside, and the shadows of their wings showed where they were clearing spiderwebs off the outside panes to help deter fairies from trying to take up residence. My balance bobbled as I came around the coffee table, and Marshal caught my elbow. “Thanks,” I mumbled, looking up his considerable height. I didn’t like how awkward the early hour had made me, but he looked fine, standing there in his rumpled shirt and lightly stubbled face.

“Kinda klutzy in the morning, eh?” he said, then let go of my elbow when Ivy’s boots clattered in the hallway. He stepped back, and I tried not to frown at Ivy. She had Marshal’s coat from the kitchen, and she draped it over my swivel desk chair. “Do you want some coffee before you go?” she asked, sounding sincere, but the coat said different.

Marshal cracked his neck, his gaze sliding to his coat before returning to Ivy, who was framed by the hallway opening, her hip cocked, looking predatory in her sleek leather pants and coat. “No, thanks. I have an appointment. See you later, Ivy.”

He pulled his coat from the chair, and as it slowly spun, I followed him to the door. Fatigue made my feet heavy, and I yawned, trying to wake up. God, I must look terrible.

“’Bye, Marshal,” Ivy said, still unmoving. Her face was empty, telling me she wasn’t happy. I gave her a pointed look when Marshal paused to put on his boots, and finally showing her ire, she turned and left.

Immediately my tension eased in the dim gray of the foyer. “Don’t mind her,” I said as Marshal laced his boots up. “She likes you.”