Luthvian gulped wine. Poured more. Better not to think of his father.
The point was, Saetan wasn't doing a thing to encourage Lucivar to associate with Blood who were his social equals. He should have been escorting the daughter of another Warlord Prince to dinner or the theater, should have been attending dinner parties where the guests were among the elite. Instead, he was still stopping at a tavern for an ale or a meal. And who did he escort to the theater? His housekeeper.
He was becoming too attached to the hearth witch. Oh, Marian had been useful enough cooking his meals and washing his clothes. And there was no arguing that his temper had mellowed a little since she'd started spreading her legs for him. But he wasn't treating her as a favorite servant or even a temporary lover. He was starting to treat her like a… wife.
And that wouldn't do. No matter what Saetan said, it simply would not do. She wasn't going to have some Purple Dusk witch from a nothing family dilute the SaDiablo-Yaslana bloodline. Marian didn't have the education, the culture, the background. She would never encourage Lucivar to move in the social circles he should simply because she would never be comfortable in those circles. He'd never live up to his potential. His children would be less than they should be.
He needed exposure to women who wouldn't set his back up the way Roxie did. Oh, not that Roxie would have been acceptable. A Rihlander, a witch from one of the short-lived races, as Lucivar's wife? No. Not in a thousand lifetimes. But a dark-Jeweled Dhemlan witch from an aristo family? A woman like that would be perfect. Same coloring as an Eyrien but without those damned wings. The daughters from a union like that could become Priestesses, Healers, maybe even Black Widows. Maybe there would even be a Queen among them. And the sons would be something more than fighters, something more than arrogance and temper riding a cock.
Luthvian poured the last of the wine, studied the deep red color.
But Lucivar would never listen to her, would never yield to her wishes, would never even look at a different kind of woman while Marian was there making his favorite meals and keeping his cock sheathed.
Which meant she had to convince Marian it was in her own best interest to leave.
TWENTY-TWO
"They're lovely."
Marian turned away from the bed of spring flowers, wary of the friendly tone in Luthvian's voice. "Lucivar isn't here right now."
"I know." Luthvian opened the gate and stepped into the garden, looking around as if she'd never seen it before. "I came to see you."
"Why?" Marian pressed her lips together, struggling for enough composure to offer hospitality. Luthvian's opinion of her, disapproval of her, always pulsed in the air. So this unexpected warmth in the Black Widow's demeanor made her uneasy.
"You do care about Lucivar, don't you?" Luthvian asked, suddenly sounding anxious.
"Yes, I"… love him …"care for him very much."
"Then do what's right for him, Marian. Do what's best for him."
"I don't understand."
Luthvian looked distraught. "May I have something to drink?"
"Of course." She led Luthvian to the side entrance and down the domestic corridor to the kitchen. She never thought twice about Jaenelle using this entrance, but as Luthvian's presence seemed to gain weight behind her, she wished she'd gone around to the front door.
*Tassle?* Marian called. *Lady Luthvian is visiting.*
Sulkiness filled the link between them. *I will stay away*
Luthvian wasn't fond of Tassle…probably because he referred to her as "Yas's bitch." Which, from Tassle's point of view, was true. It still didn't make things easy when the two of them were in the same room.
"I'll put a kettle on for tea."
"Thank you." Luthvian sank into a chair. She undid her cloak's fastenings but didn't take it off, a clear signal that she didn't intend to stay long.
Neither of them said anything until Marian brought the tea to the table. She watched Luthvian take a sip, then set the cup aside.
"Lucivar and I have our problems, but I only want what is best for my son," Luthvian said earnestly.
Marian nodded, not sure how to reply beyond that.
"And even though I've sometimes been harsh with you, I want what is best for you, too, Marian." Luthvian paused and pressed her lips together as if she were waging some deep internal battle. "Don't you see what's happening? You've made it too easy for him to play house."
"What?" Marian's cup clattered in the saucer, slopping tea.
"You're taking care of all of his physical needs, so he's not making any effort to find a wife."
"Wife?"
"Do you think this is easy for me?" Luthvian snapped. "Mother Night, woman, he comes from the SaDiablo family. They aren't going to accept anything less than an accomplished witch from an aristo family for Lucivar's wife."
"But… They like me."
"Of course they like you! You cook his meals, clean his home, give him regular sex that makes him easier to deal with. Why shouldn't they like you? But like is a far cry from accepting you beyond your role as housekeeper and bedmate. They know you're only a temporary pleasure for him. So why shouldn't they be friendly? But that's all you are, Marian. That's all you can be. You don't have the education, the accomplishments, or the family connections that would make you an acceptable mate for a man who can trace his bloodlines to the High Lord and Andulvar Yaslana."
Luthvian raked a hand through her hair and looked at Marian sadly.
"Even if he asks you to marry him, you'll always be the outsider, never quite be one of them. You don't really comprehend the power that family wields. When they start discussing spells and magic that is so far beyond you they might as well be dancing on the moon, what are you going to offer? A new recipe for nutcakes? When they're entertaining Queens and their courts, are you going to sit in the corner with your knitting? Don't you want a home that's really your own? Children who won't be measured by their father's potential and be found wanting? And what about Lucivar? Are you going to use sex to chain him to a woman who is less than he deserves?"
Tears thickened in Marian's throat. "I'm not chaining him with anything."
"Then let him go. Find a man who doesn't have obligations that you can never help him meet. Mother Night, Marian, I'm begging you. Let my son go." Looking defeated, Luthvian fastened her cloak and pushed away from the table. "If you truly love him, do this for him."
"I can't think," Marian choked back the tears. "I need to think."
"Then think," Luthvian said softly. "But if you wait too long, binding Lucivar to you will bring nothing but heartache."
Marian couldn't move. Could barely breathe. When she heard Luthvian leave, she pushed the cups aside, pillowed her head in her arms, and wept.
TWENTY THREE
Standing on the mountain where he could look down at his home, Lucivar brushed a finger across the two marriage rings in the jeweler's box. Something was wrong with Marian, had been wrong since yesterday. But she wouldn't talk to him, was shutting him out. Even in bed last night, her response had been discouraging enough that he'd given up after a few kisses.
A mood? The Darkness knew, females had them. But he felt her yearning toward him at the same time she tried to pull back. What did that mean?
Maybe that clash with Roxie had shaken her up more than he'd thought. Or maybe, after such a public display of her commitment to him, she was wondering about the strength of his commitment to her.
Only one way to find out.
Lucivar closed the ring box and vanished it. Then he spread his wings and glided down to the eyrie. As he went through the kitchen, he snatched a nutcake cooling on the metal racks, took a large bite, then paused and looked around. Were they having a party tonight that he'd forgotten about? She seemed to be cooking enough to feed ten people to the stuffing point.