Dreams Made Flesh (11 page)

It probably would be easier to say she wasn't permitted to let anyone enter the eyrie. After all, a servant had to obey her employer. But it wasn't Yaslana's order that kept her blocking the door; it was her own dislike of the woman that kept her from stepping back. There was something calculating about this stranger, and there was meanness lurking in the backs of her eyes.

"If you would like to leave a message," Marian said, "I'll give it to Prince Yaslana as soon as he returns."

The meanness filled the woman's face for a moment before she shifted her hips, pushed out her chest, and smiled in a way Marian supposed was meant to be sultry.

"The message I have for Lucivar isn't something I'd leave with you." "In that case, good evening, Lady," Marian said. As she closed the door, the woman shouted,"I won't forget this!"

Neither will I, Marian thought as she slid the bolts back into place.

She'd bet a month's wages that she'd just met the reason Yaslana had Ebon-gray locks on his doors.

NINE

« ^ »

Lucivar strode over the rock-cleared ground, working up from annoyance to being thoroughly pissed off as he watched Marian set herself to try to lift a rock that weighed more than she did. One slashing look at Tassle was enough to prevent the young wolf from announcing his presence. The fact that his little hearth witch was so focused…or so exhausted…she wasn't even aware of him coming up behind her just made his temper more volatile and his control more slippery.

But he would stay calm.

She groaned a little as she tried to get a better grip on the rock.

He would be reasonable.

She braced herself to try again.

He was on her in a heartbeat, his arms going around her, his hands clamping down on her wrists to keep her from jerking upward. Not that she could move much, with his arms locking her wings against her body, his chest pressed against her back, and his legs bracing hers.

Even though he'd expected her to react to being restrained by a male, her instant panic still screamed at his instincts to defend and protect. He fought a quick, nasty battle with himself to keep from rising to the killing edge since that was the last thing that would ease her fear.

So he would stay calm.

"Marian," he said quietly.

She panted, trembled. But after a few painfully long seconds, she said, "Prince Yaslana?"

"Yes, it's Lucivar. Let go of the rock now."

He waited while she fought her own internal battle. On one level, she knew holding the rock wasn't a defense against an attack, but it still took a while before she managed to convince her body. When her hands finally relaxed, he drew them away from the rock. Sliding his hands up to her shoulders, he straightened up, bringing her with him.

Being attracted to her made him aware of her body in ways he'd had to pretend he didn't notice, but he wasn't going to ignore this. No, he was not.

But he would stay calm.

He led her over to the stone that had weathered into a natural seat. As he helped her ease down to sit on the stone, he noticed the Rose Jewel she wore. Her Birthright Jewel. He could think of one reason why she was wearing the Rose instead of her Purple Dusk, and he didn't like it.

But he would be reasonable.

"What in the name of Hell are you doing?" he roared. She shrank away from him as he towered over her, but seeing her so tired made him too angry to care that he was scaring her. "I…I…" Marian stammered.

"You what? Wanted to see how many rocks you could move before you ruined your back? I know it still bothers you occasionally, so don't bother trying to deny it."

She winced. "I used Craft to take most of the weight." "Oh, I can see that," he said, pointing at her Rose Jewel. "And you needed to draw so much power to lift things you couldn't possibly lift otherwise that you drained your Purple Dusk Jewel doing it. Isn't that why you're wearing the Rose?"

When she just stared at him mutely, he swore and started pacing to work off the sharpest edge of temper. Problem was, the movement also gave him time to notice more of what she'd done.

He snarled at her. "In order to get this much cleared, you must have started the minute I was out of sight and kept at it for the past two days."

"I got my work done," Marian protested.

Oh. Well. That certainly made him feel better. And the tears in her eyes and defeated way she held herself ripped at him. He didn't want her defeated. He didn't want her afraid. But he'd be damned if he was going to let her hurt herself in order to do…

"What is this, Marian?" Lucivar waved his hand to indicate the cleared land.

"Explain."

She looked at the ground, a tear sliding down her face. "A kitchen garden," she whispered. "Some herbs. A few flowers. I didn't think you'd mind."

His temper had eased back from true anger to just being pissed off again, but that comment came close to snapping the leash. He hauled her to her feet, certain her back and leg muscles were now tight enough that she couldn't have gotten up by herself, and pulled her toward the eyrie.

Her emotions battered at him…fear that he was going to punish her for doing something without his permission, fear of what a man of his temper and power would do to her as punishment. The fact that she expected punishment told him more about the males who had been part of her life than he wanted to know.

"If you wanted a kitchen garden, you could have spent the past two days figuring out where you wanted it and what you wanted in it," he said, keeping his voice as level as he could manage. "I could have cleared the ground for you when I got back. Did it even occur to you to ask me?"

"No," Marian said in a small voice.

No. Well, that was a kick in the balls. Even the coven knew better than that.

Blood males served. That was something so deeply ingrained in the males even the cruelty in Terreille couldn't extinguish it completely. In Kaeleer, where the Blood still lived by the Old Ways, males considered it their right and privilege to serve…and got pretty testy when a witch they knew personally denied them an opportunity to be helpful.

If Marian didn't know that yet, it was something she'd better figure out. Fast.

He pulled her into the eyrie, through the laundry room, and wound his way through curving corridors until he reached the pool Andulvar had built long ago as a place for a warrior to sit back in heated water and ease tired muscles.

She hadn't openly fought him in an attempt to get away, but from the first step, she'd been silently resisting like some stubborn puppy tethered to a leash. That was fine since he had the rhythm of this little dance and knew how to use it.

Treat her like the coven, Saetan had said. Well, he knew exactly what he'd have done to Jaenelle or any of her friends if they'd upset him over something like this.

When he got near the edge of the pool, he propelled Marian forward. Her automatic step back gave him time to switch hands so that one now-gripped her arm and the other held a fistful of her tunic. A hard shove forward, a swinging lift up, and… "No!" Marian yelled. "My boo…" …splash.

He used Craft to control her drop so she wouldn't slip and damage a wing. Now she stood in heated water up to her waist, with a look on her face that was closer to grumpy than fearful.

Grumpy was fine. Grumpy was good. He wondered just how grumpy he could make her.

"Boots," he said. He'd vanished them off her feet just before she hit the water.

Now he called them in, dangling them over her head before he vanished them again. "Which you'll get back if you do what you're told."

She stared up at him. "If I do what I'm told?"

Pointing at her, he said sternly, "You're going to sit your ass down and let that hot water soak out some of the soreness in your muscles. And you're going to stay there until I come back and fetch you." He turned and walked to the entrance.

"Fetch me?" Marian said, sputtering. "Fetch me? What do you think I am? An addlebrained puppy?"

He turned back. "No, you're female. And I don't think it's wise to discuss your brains right now."

He walked out of the room, stopped as soon as he was out of sight, and listened.

Mutters. Then the slap of wet cloth on stone.

Lucivar grinned. So there was a little temper under that quiet disposition. He'd have to work on that. Shouldn't be too difficult. He excelled at getting witches riled up.

When he got back to the side doorway, Tassle was waiting for him.

*I tried,Yas, but she wouldn't listen.*

"No, she wouldn't have."

Tassle hung his head. *Because I am kindred.*

"Nope. Because you have a cock instead of breasts. She probably patted you on the head and promised to stop soon."

*She did.* Tassle looked at Lucivar with interest. *Did she pat your head?*

"No, she didn't." If she'd been capable of lifting another rock, she would have tried to brain him, but patting any male wasn't exactly on her mind at the moment.

The daylight was almost gone, so he couldn't see the full extent of what she'd done in the past two days, but what he could see was enough to make him shake his head.

Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. The woman was insane.

That was the only explanation he had for Marian trying to clear, close to half an acre of land in order to plant a few vegetables, herbs, and flowers. Of course, being a hearth witch meant having a tidy streak that went down to the marrow, so she'd never be content with seeing weeds beyond her little beds. Which meant she'd be out here working too hard every time he turned his back.

She'd drive him up the walls inside of a week…and she was already doing that on a regular basis just by being where he could see her.

He understood her wanting the garden. Besides the practical reasons of growing some of their own food, it would be hers. Her work, her accomplishment, her…

claim.

He looked at the land again, turning that thought over. Everyone needed something to call their own. She lived in it and took care of it, but she thought of the eyrie as his place. But the garden… Something of her own, apart from him.

Something she would want to see change with the seasons. Which meant she intended to stay, even if she didn't realize it yet.

She'd never be able to clear all of this and have the pleasure of seeing vegetables ripen and flowers bloom this year. And if he tried to help her now, she might see it as his way of reminding her that the land didn't really belong to her.

Moving away from the eyrie, Lucivar stopped when he reached a place where he could look down at Riada…and smiled. He had a way he could prepare the ground for her. Now he just needed a reason to get her away from Ebon Rih for a couple of days…and a little help doing it.

"My fingers are shriveled," Marian complained, clutching the towel, she'd wrapped around herself.

"But you can almost stand up straight," Lucivar replied as he led her to her bedroom. "All right. On your belly."

"What?"

A slash of fear.

Gritting his teeth, he gave her a little push toward the bed. "The soak was the first part of the treatment. A rubdown is the second."

"No, that's all right. I can…"

He didn't say anything, he didn't touch her. He just looked at her. The coven never argued with him when they were on the receiving end of that look. Marian didn't either. She stretched out on the bed.

After flipping the sheet up to her waist, he straddled her. She jerked up when he vanished the towel. Her shriek of protest turned into a different kind of shriek when he called in a bottle of liniment and poured some on her back without using a warming spell on it first. Leaving the bottle of liniment floating on air freed both hands to push her down and rub her tight muscles.

"It stinks," Marian said.

"It's supposed to smell like that," Lucivar replied. "It's a reminder not to do stupid things that make you need it."

She didn't answer him. Just as well.

When he finally worked most of the stiffness out of her shoulders, she said, "You had a visitor."

"Who was it?" He poured more liniment into his hand and used a warming spell on it since she wasn't resisting the rubdown anymore.

"She didn't say."

Lucivar stiffened. After a moment, he smoothed the warm liniment over Marian's back, giving the area around her wings special attention. "Probably Roxie. Did you let her in?"

"No. Didn't like her." Marian's eyes were closed. Her voice had the slur of someone half asleep. "That's why you have locks on the doors."

"That's exactly why."

"Thought so." She took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. "I made stew."

He stopped kneading her muscles and leaned over far enough to see her face.

"Are we still talking about Roxie?"

"No. Dinner. Stew.You can eat some."

"All right."

Her messages delivered, Marian fell asleep.

After studying her for a long moment, Lucivar decided nothing short of dragging her into the bathroom and holding her under a stream of cold water would wake her. So he finished her back, then pulled down the sheet and rubbed liniment on her legs. When he was done, he vanished the bottle of liniment, pulled up the bedcovers, and put a warming spell on them to keep her from getting chilled during the night.

He ate a bowl of quickly warmed stew, told Tassle to keep watch, and flew to the Keep, where he'd left Jaenelle a couple of hours ago.

She closed her book and studied him. "What brings you back here tonight, Brother?"

Her knowing he was there as her brother and not as a Warlord Prince who served in her court made this a lot easier. "I need a favor, and I don't want to explain why."

Tarl, the head gardener at SaDiablo Hall, was the first man to arrive that morning.

Which figured, Lucivar thought as he raised a hand in welcome. Tarl had probably come in the Hall's small private Coach and stayed out of sight until the driver caught the Winds and guided the Coach to the next destination…with Jaenelle and a flustered Marian inside it.

Jaenelle had timed the note commanding Marian's assistance perfectly. Arriving late yesterday morning, it had given Marian enough time to wash out clothing and cook enough food that he could heat up so he wouldn't starve to death in her absence but not enough time to do anything else except get herself cleaned up and pack the small trunk Jaenelle had thoughtfully sent over from the Keep with the note.