Even though it still chilled her to think about it, she understood why the Warlords who attacked her had planned to kill her. If she had survived the rape and accused them, at the very least, their standing in society would have been ruined. If a nobody hearth witch could ruin aristo Warlords in Terreille, what would an accusation made by an aristo witch do to a man in Kaeleer, where the laws and Protocols were upheld far more strictly?
And if the people in Ebon Rih thought Lucivar was freed because of his family connections rather than because he was truly innocent, it would shatter his life. The Blood here would never continue to accept him as the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih.
"You can't," Marian said. "Even if they believed you, even if they did demand that he serve you, he's an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince. You'd never control him."
"He'd have to wear a Ring of Obedience," Roxie replied. "I've heard those Rings can control any male."
Roxie didn't care that this would ruin him. She just wanted to enslave him, wanted to force him back into that pain he'd endured when he'd lived in Terreille. Lucivar would never obey Roxie willingly, so she'd have to use the Ring to hurt him…and because he'd never shown any interest in her, she would enjoy hurting him.
"You can't do that to him," Marian said as something inside her strained to break free.
"Watch me." Roxie turned and started to walk away.
"No!" Dropping her basket, Marian threw herself at Roxie.
Lucivar pushed his way through the crowd, cursing under his breath. A brawl on the main street of Riada. Just what he needed today. He'd hoped to convince Marian to set aside her chores for an hour to go flying with him since it was a lovely day and she hadn't had much of a chance to enjoy her recovered skills during the winter. Although that icy free fall they'd performed one sunny afternoon had ended with an enjoyable evening keeping each other warm in bed.
First he'd take care of this mess, then share a midday meal at The Tavern with Jaenelle as they'd planned. After that, he'd go home and see—
He reached the front of the crowd and stared at the two women rolling around in the mud, punching, slapping, and generally trying to tear each other apart.
"Mother Night, Marian," he said, shaking his head. What in the name of Hell was she doing?
Moving forward, he waited for an opening, then grabbed the back of Marian's belted cape and yanked. He heard cloth rip as he lifted her enough to get his other hand under her and haul her back out of Roxie's reach.
He felt her legs tuck up and had a moment to think she was trying to help him set her on her feet before he recognized the intent. Releasing the back of the cape, he pivoted in time to take that two-footed kick on the thigh rather than in the balls. Since he was still holding the front of the cape, when her feet dropped to the ground his fist became the hinge her body swung on. Straightening his arm at the last second prevented her roundhouse punch from connecting with his face hard enough to break his jaw or her hand, but it would still leave a bitch of a bruise.
And that, he thought, was more than enough.
One fast jerk that ripped more seams and she landed on his shoulder with a whoof that knocked the air out of her.
"Bring that one," he growled as he marched toward The Tavern, which was the closest place that had chairs and enough space to deal with… whatever this was.
The crowd, he noted sourly, didn't move out of his way. Seeing where he was headed, they stampeded toward The Tavern to get ringside seats.
Great. Wonderful. At least they had sense enough to leave two tables empty.
He dumped Marian in an empty chair. When she popped right up again, he shoved her back into the chair and held her arms down as he leaned over her and said in his most menacing voice, "Sit down, Marian. Sit. "
His quiet, gentle hearth witch bared her teeth and snarled at him.
He would have kissed her for finally producing a decent snarl except he was fairly sure she'd bite him if he tried, and then she'd feel bad. Not as bad as he would, but once she came to her senses, she'd feel bad about doing it.
He kept Marian locked to the chair while two men brought a wailing Roxie into the tavern and settled her at the other empty table. Whatever had gotten Marian so riled up was still churning through her, so when he finally stepped back, he made sure she'd have to go through him in order to tangle with Roxie again.
"Now," he snarled as he looked at the people crowded into the tavern's main room, "what in the name of Hell is going on?"
"She attacked me!" Roxie wailed. "Just because I told her she wasn't going to work for us after I moved into the eyrie."
"Since you're never going to move into the eyrie while I'm still living there, that's not a problem," Lucivar snapped. He looked at Marian and shook his head. "Is that what this is about? Didn't it occur to you she was lying?"
"Of course I knew she was lying," Marian snapped back. "But she _ said…"
"I am going to live with you!" Roxie shouted as she continued to sob. "You want me. You know you do. When I was in your bed—"
"I told you I'd slit your throat if I ever found you there again," Lucivar said.
A collective gasp. Then the room fell silent.
"You didn't mean it," Roxie sobbed. "You were bluffing to—"
"I don't bluff."
Roxie stared at him.
Disgusted, Lucivar turned back to Marian. "Was that the whole of it? What else did she say?"
He saw Marian's eyes shift from side to side, taking in all the people waiting for her answer. He watched her temper fade and her usual quiet nature surface.
"Nothing," she said.
There was more. He could tell by the way she wouldn't meet his eyes that there was more. Well, he'd get it out of her after he got her back to the eyrie and checked her over to make sure the minor cuts and bruises he could see were the worst of her injuries.
"What else did she say?" asked a midnight voice from the doorway.
Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. The last thing he needed right now was Jaenelle stepping into this.
Marian looked at the Black Jewel hanging from the chain around Jaenelle's neck, then looked into those sapphire eyes—and swallowed hard.
"She said she was going to tell people Lucivar tried to force himself on her so that he would have to serve her," Marian said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He's an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince," Jaenelle said. "How would she control him?"
Marian licked her bloody lower lip. "With a Ring of Obedience."
Lucivar swore quietly, viciously, the memory of the pain that a Ring of Obedience could inflict shuddering through him.
"She's a lying bitch!" Roxie shouted.
"Is she?" Jaenelle asked, her eyes never leaving Marian's face. "There's a simple way to tell. Are you willing to open your mind to me, Marian? Will you let me read your thoughts, your feelings, your heart? Will you open yourself to me, knowing that if what you said here is a lie, I will take you down into the abyss so deep it will shatter you, destroy you? Are you willing?"
Jaenelle, don't do this, Lucivar thought.
Marian sat up straight. "Yes," she said. "I'll open my mind to you."
Everyone in the tavern waited, hardly daring to breathe.