Dreams Made Flesh bj-5

by Anne Bishop

  "Yes, sir. Thank you."

  "Get yourself back home. No man with any sense is going to want to be anywhere near this street today."

  A restrained smile. "Yes, Prince."

  Lucivar watched the young man move down the street and turn the corner, not quite running as he headed back to his own part of the village, but moving with speed. An example he intended to follow.

  Spreading his wings, he launched himself toward the clean spring sky, then hovered for a moment before catching the Red Wind and heading for the Keep.

  * * *

  Lucivar watched Saetan sort through books stacked on the large black-wood table in the Keep's library. He wasn't sure why his father needed so many reference books, but if it had anything to do with Jaenelle, it wasn't something he really wanted to know. "Did I do the right thing?"

  "Who are you asking?" Saetan replied.

  "The Warlord Prince of Dhemlan."

  Saetan set aside the books and looked at him. "You did the right thing. You didn't have sufficient reason to order an execution or to break Roxie and deprive her of the power she might have used to… persuade… a lighter-Jeweled male to have sex with her. I imagine some harsh things will be said about you by the aristo families in Doun…"

  Lucivar snorted. "As if I give a damn."

  Saetan nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "I also imagine, when word of this spreads, the Queens who rule the Blood villages in Ebon Rih are going to think long and hard about this. So are the Warlord Princes who live in the valley. You've drawn the line, Lucivar, and they're the ones who will be expected to help you enforce it." He paused. "I suggest you stay close to home for the next day or two."

  "I'm not going to hide because I made a decision some of the Blood won't like," Lucivar snarled.

  Saetan smiled. "You're not hiding, you're practicing domestic survival skills. If you leave Marian to deal with all the visitors I expect you'll have in the next few days, she'll be more than justified in kicking your ass."

  TWENTY-ONE

  Marian rushed into The Tavern, relieved to see Merry behind the bar. Even more relieved that the place hadn't begun to fill up with the people who stopped by for a midday meal.

  "I need a small keg of ale," Marian said. Then she frowned. "Maybe two."

  "Having a party?" Merry asked as she wiped down the bar.

  "A party would be fun. This is…" Marian perched on a stool. "I'm not sure what this is."

  "Word got out," Merry said, cocking her head. "You've been having visitors?"

  Marian groaned. "It wasn't so bad yesterday. Several aristo Ladies from Doun called on Lucivar to assure him they hadn't done anything to deserve exile.Which makes you wonder what they had done. But today…"

  "Last night, everyone who came into our place was talking about Roxie's exile." Merry reached for the coffee mug on the bar. "Good for us to be rid of the bitch. Good for Lucivar for doing it." She raised the mug in a salute. "Here's to the Prince of Ebon Rih."

  "And how is our Lady Marian today?" Briggs said as he walked in from the back room.

  "She needs two small kegs of ale," Merry replied.

  "I'll add a couple of bottles of brandy to that," Briggs said. "The Prince might need something a bit stronger than ale by the time the day is done." He grinned. "Or you will."

  Marian smiled weakly. There was more truth in that than Briggs knew. She'd baked yesterday and early this morning in anticipation of having a few visitors after Lucivar had told her about Roxie, but she hadn't anticipated so many. She'd already stopped at the bakery since there wasn't time to tend to the visitors and do more baking herself.

  When the kegs and brandy appeared on the bar, she vanished them and jumped off the stool. "I'd better get back."

  "I'm making steak pies to serve this evening," Merry said. "I'll make an extra and send it up to you. You'll have enough to do today without putting a meal together."

  "Thanks," Marian said with a smile. She hurried out of The Tavern and flew home as fast as she could.

  Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful, Lucivar thought as he went to answer the door…again. How did Saetan tolerate days like this? A fist in the face had always gotten his message across well enough. Why did he have to talk to all these people?

  And where was Marian? The aristo bitches from Doun had looked at her with barely concealed sneers, but the merchants and other family men who were showing up looked relieved when she greeted them and offered some refreshment. He made them nervous. She was someone they felt easy being around. Which is why he'd let her run herself ragged looking after them while they waited for an audience with him.

  As soon as she got back, he was going to lock the door and they were going to sit down for a quick meal and an hour's peace. Until then…

  When he opened the door, the Queen of Riada's Consort…and husband…walked in. A Summer-sky Prince, he'd been with his Lady for ten years now and was the father of her two children.

  "Is the Queen upset about my decision?" Lucivar asked as he closed the door.

  "No," the Prince replied. Then he smiled. "Although she's had her share of visitors today. No, I'm not here on my Queen's behalf."

  Lucivar studied the man. He didn't know him well since he preferred a place like The Tavern to a dining house that catered to aristos, and the only time he'd attended dinner parties was when Jaenelle had been invited as well and needed him to be her escort.

  "When Roxie leaves Ebon Rih, she'll no longer be your problem… or ours, for which I thank you. But a woman who would make false accusations about an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince is either stupid or trouble or both."

  "We agree on that. I'm sorry to make her someone else's problem, but I couldn't justify doing more than getting her out of Ebon Rih."

  "I understand that. There are ways to handle such problems." The Prince looked uncomfortable. "Sometimes a person takes a wrong turn and needs a new place where a smear on his, or her, reputation isn't reflected back from every person he meets."

  Bitterness filled the Prince's eyes for a moment before a different memory warmed them again, making Lucivar wonder what kind of smear had brought the man to Ebon Rih for a fresh start.

  "Sometimes that's all a person needs to find everything he was looking for," the Prince continued softly. Then he stiffened, as if suddenly realizing he'd said too much. "And sometimes a person won't change. A Lady can sleep with a different man every day of the year, and no one will say a thing because that is a Lady's privilege. At least, no one will say anything publicly. But a woman who is a user gets a reputation among the men, and when she leaves one hunting ground for another, word is quietly sent to warn the men there that her… affection… may not be sincere."

  Lucivar nodded. He would have preferred blunt words to this diplomatic hedging, but he was Eyrien. "You have a solution?"

  The Prince tipped his head in acknowledgment. "My brother serves as an escort in a Queen's court. She rules one of the larger cities on the coast of Askavi. A quiet word to him would spread to the other courts. If Roxie relocates to one of their cities, they'll know."

  Lucivar thought about the young man he'd met on Roxie's street, a young man who would spend the next few years working hard to clean that smear off his reputation. "Do it."

  Just then Marian rushed in from the kitchen, looking breathless and windblown—and beautiful.

  "Lucivar, I— Oh. Good day, Prince."

  "Lady Marian," the Prince replied, offering her a slight bow.

  "Would you care for refreshments?"

  Lucivar almost grinned at the exasperated look she gave him, could almost hear her thoughts: Leave him alone for a few minutes, and he keeps an important visitor standing at the door. She'd come a long way from the frightened hearth witch who had sat at his kitchen table last summer.

  "Thank you for the offer, Lady, but I need to be getting back."

  When the Prince left, Lucivar locked the front door and came back to the kitchen, rubbing
his hands over his face. "I don't care who comes knocking, for the next hour you and I are going to have some peace."

  "I brought back kegs of ale and some brandy," Marian said as she unbuckled the belt of her new cape.

  "Give me a hug. That will do more for me than ale and brandy put together."

  She looked at him, startled, then gave him an understanding smile as she walked into his open arms.

  "Poor Lucivar," she said as she slid her arms around him. "You've had a beastly day, haven't you?"

  He rubbed his cheek against her hair. "And it's not over yet." There was one visitor he was expecting who hadn't shown up yet. He was almost looking forward to that little discussion.

  Marian heard the raised voices when she came out of the pantry with a jar of fruit to go with the steak pie. Feeling cowardly when she recognized Luthvian's voice, but not sufficiently ashamed of the feeling to enter the front room, she stayed at the edge of the kitchen where it was least likely she'd be seen. She didn't want to get in the middle of this… especially when she heard a viciousness in Lucivar's voice that made her shiver.

  "Don't use that tone with me," Luthvian said.

  "What tone?" Lucivar snarled. "I'm not a boy you can slap down, and I'm not a slave you can control. You don't like my tone, get out of my house."

  Luthvian's voice gained a sharp, slicing edge. "You exiled an aristo witch simply because…"

  "She was a bitch, a liar, and a user. She got away with it because she never quite crossed the line of forcing a male into her bed. Well, planning to accuse me of attempted rape crossed that line."

  "You only have the word of a hearth witch that Roxie intended any such thing."

  "A witch who was willing to open her mind to my Queen, knowing a lie would destroy her. Hell's fire, Luthvian! It doesn't matter if Roxie would have gone through with accusing me. Even if she'd had second thoughts about taking me on, she wouldn't have had second thoughts abput trying that game with a male who wouldn't have known what to do once she'd gotten a Ring of Obedience on him."

  "What would you have done?"

  "Ripped the bitch apart. She wouldn't have lived an hour after she put a Ring on me."

  Marian clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. As the tense silence continued, she peeked around the corner and caught a glimpse of Lucivar as he paced away from Luthvian and turned back, framed by the archway. The look on his face… Warrior. Predator. He looked magnificent. And terrifying.

  "You don't mean that," Luthvian said, her voice tight.

  His laugh was sharp and bitter. "I saw hundreds of Roxies while I was a slave in Terreille. They didn't survive me. Do you know why they stopped trying to use me as a pleasure slave, Luthvian? Because I was so damned vicious, and every one of those bitches left the bed damaged in one way or another. The bedroom wasn't just a battleground for me; it was a killing field. I gloried in the spilled blood, the screams, the pain… because those bitches gloried in inflicting pain, in spilling blood, in hearing men scream."

  "Stop it," Luthvian said.

  "Why? Turning squeamish? I loathed everything Roxie was."

  "She was a high-spirited aristo witch," Luthvian protested. "Maybe she'd become too obsessed with having you for a lover, but she's just…"

  "Another Prythian. Another Dorothea. Another bitch like the ones who turned Terreille into a nightmare. If you're telling me that's what is festering in the aristo families in Doun, then there's going to be a purge and a bloodletting the likes of which Ebon Rih has never seen."

  "You wouldn't."

  "I don't bluff." A long pause. "Let it go, Luthvian. I let her live. Let that be enough."

  Silence. Then the front door slammed.

  Knees shaking, Marian crept into the kitchen. Setting the jar of fruit on the counter, she glanced over and saw Lucivar in the archway, watching her.

  "You have an opinion?" he snarled. "Then say it."

  She said the only thing she could think of, the only thing that mattered. "You aren't vicious."

  He just smiled at her. "I'm a Warlord Prince, Lady. I was born vicious."

  "Not like that," she said, hating that her voice quivered. "Not in bed."

  She held her ground as he moved toward her, came close enough to touch her.

  "Yes, I am," he said softly. "That's the way I was. That's the way I could be again." He shook his head as he raised his hand, his fingertips touching her hair. "I want to be your lover. I chose to be your lover. That makes all the difference. Being in bed with you is like soaring on a sweet wind. I chose to be your lover, Marian…just as you chose to be mine."

  She threw her arms around him and held on, warmed by his embrace when his arms circled her. She gave herself a few moments to enjoy being with him before she asked, "Is this going to cause trouble between you and Luthvian?"

  His lips brushed her temple. "There's always trouble between me and Luthvian. This is just another piece."

  She nodded, not sure what to say to him. "There's steak pie for dinner. Merry brought it up a little while ago."

  "Then why don't I open a bottle of wine and…"

  He stiffened. When he stepped back from her, his eyes were hot with temper, on the borderline of wild. He bared his teeth and snarled softly.

  Mother Night.

  "Did you think you could hide it from me? Did you think I would have let those men into our home, would have left you alone with them when you're vulnerable?"

  "I wasn't vulnerable," she protested. "It just started." And she hadn't thought he'd be able to catch the scent of moon's blood when there was barely a hint of it yet. Before he could start roaring, she spun around, opened a drawer, withdrew the six pieces of parchment she'd prepared as a joke, and held them out. "Here."

  He took the pieces of parchment and looked at them, then frowned in puzzlement. "A certificate for fussing? What's…" He read it through. His eyes still held the heat of temper when he looked at her, but his mouth was curving into that lazy, arrogant smile. "This entitles me to twenty minutes of fussing with no snarls or grumbles from you?"

  "Yes," Marian said warily, wondering if she should mention it was intended as a joke. A fluttery feeling filled her stomach when his smile got lazier, more arrogant.

  He handed back one piece of parchment and vanished the other five. "I'll redeem this one now."

  "What? But—"

  "Uh-uh," he said, leading her over to a chair. "No snarls, no grumbles. Says so in your very own handwriting."

  "But…"

  His mouth covered hers. When he finally stepped back, whatever she'd been about to say didn't seem important anymore.

  He laughed. "You should see your face. Such a grumpy little witch."

  Well, she thought as she watched him put together their evening meal, at least she'd given him something to laugh about.

  Sitting alone at her kitchen table, Luthvian poured another glass of wine and continued brooding.

  Roxie was a bitch and a thorn in everyone's side. She couldn't argue with Lucivar about that. But she was an educated bitch from a good family. An aristo family. Lucivar just refused to see that some leniency had to be given for the Blood who ruled society and, more often than not, made up the courts that ruled in every other way.

  She'd kept an eye on him since he'd become the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih. He was her son, after all. Just as she knew his father had been keeping a close eye on him. But his father…

  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."