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.”