Rothvar strode up at that moment. “Prince?”

“Jillian is missing.” Lucivar ignored the murmurs of the men surrounding him and Rothvar. If that prick-ass Dillon had convinced her to ride the Winds with him, they could be anywhere. It was also possible they were just far enough away to elude a Sceltie who wasn’t familiar with the village.

He looked at all the men who were ready to stand with him and said, “Check the alleyways between the shops in case Lord Dillon didn’t believe I’d break his bones because of a tryst. Lord Rothvar and I will fly over the village and see if we can spot them.”

As the Rihlander men scattered to search, Rothvar stepped closer and said in a low voice, “Should I call the other Eyrien Warlords?”

“Not yet. Let’s see if we can find her. It’s only been a few minutes since Khary sounded the alarm.”

“A lot can happen to a girl in a few minutes.”

He knew that too well. “I’ll check the outskirts around the northern end of the village; you check south.”

Rothvar flew off. Before Lucivar could head skyward, Khary said, ٭Yas?٭

He looked at the unhappy Sceltie. “It wasn’t your fault, little Brother. Any escort would have given her time in a public place like this.” Not quite true. An experienced escort, human or otherwise, would have come into the shop and sat at another table to avoid hearing a civil conversation. “You stay here in case Jillian comes back.”

Khary took up a position beside the door. ٭I will wait.٭

Khary would wait. Lucivar didn’t. Every minute he delayed increased the chance of his girl getting hurt.

* * *

* * *

They dropped from the Winds and landed near the old cabin on the outskirts of the village. They could have walked here faster than the time they had spent on the Winds. Did Dillon think she wouldn’t recognize this place? Everyone who lived in Riada knew about this place.

The moment her feet touched the ground, Jillian tried to pull away from Dillon. He grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, but it didn’t fill her with giddy warmth the way it used to.

“Hell’s fire, Dillon! Are you trying to get killed?”

“I just want to talk.” He gave her an odd smile. “We could go inside for a while. Nobody lives here.”

“We can’t go in there,” she protested. “That cabin belonged to the Queen of Ebon Askavi. The only people who go inside are Lady Marian and Prince Sadi.”

“Just on the porch, then.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles again. “If you loved me, you would want to spend time with me.”

She yanked her hand free. “Why do you keep saying that? And why is it always about me doing something to show that I love you and never you doing, or not doing, something because you love me?”

“How can I love you?” he snapped. “You’re too young, but you led me on, let me believe you were old enough for a handfast, for the things I need.”

“I never led you on,” she snapped back. “I liked you, and it was flattering to have your attention because you were more sophisticated than the other boys in the village. But you were a visitor, Dillon. I had no reason to think this was more than a summer romance, and Prince Yaslana wouldn’t have given his consent for anything more.”

“Why should he care about the hired help?” Dillon sneered. “No matter what you let people believe, he’s not your father.”

Hearing Dillon say what she’d almost said to Lucivar because they had been arguing about this . . . male . . . ignited her temper.

“You bastard,” she growled. “He’s more of a father to me than yours is to you.”

Fury filled his eyes. “You bitch!”

She realized he put a defensive shield around himself a moment before he lunged at her. She threw up her own shield—and the extra defensive shield as she’d been taught.

Dillon grabbed her, a blast of his Opal power breaking her first shield. She hadn’t expected that kind of aggressive anger from Dillon, and it scared her, because he was taller and heavier and wore a darker Jewel than hers. But she was an Eyrien who had been trained to fight.

Jillian stopped thinking about who her adversary was and let training dictate her moves as she fought back.

* * *

* * *

Spotting Jillian, Lucivar folded his wings and dove for the ground. ٭Rothvar! She’s at Witch’s cabin.٭

He didn’t need Rothvar to deal with a Rihlander Warlord. He needed Rothvar to take Jillian away from the place before he started skinning the prick-ass alive.

He spread his wings and backwinged hard to avoid slamming into the ground. Landing a few feet behind them, he pushed aside hot fury enough to realize Jillian was on her feet and Dillon was on the ground, cupping his groin. An impressive-looking fist-sized bruise had already started to color one side of the prick-ass’s face.

Dillon’s eyes widened when he noticed Lucivar, and he made an effort to get to his feet.

Lucivar bared his teeth. ٭Stay down or the next fist you feel will be mine, and my fist will shatter bone.٭ When Dillon flopped back on the ground, Lucivar focused on the girl. “Jillian?” No answer. He took a step toward her, his heart pounding unmercifully hard. “Witchling? Are you hurt?”

She turned and looked at him, her lower lip quivering with the effort not to cry, her left hand cradling her right fist. She looked more like the young girl who had first come to Ebon Rih than the girl who was on the cusp of being a woman.

“Witchling, are you hurt?” he asked again, barely able to breathe.

“I shielded like you taught me,” she finally said. “I did. But . . .” She held out her hand, like Titian did when she had a boo-boo and wanted him, not Marian, to make it better.

He approached slowly, carefully.

٭Lucivar?٭ Rothvar called.

٭I have her,٭ he replied. Then to Jillian, “Let me see.”

He took her right hand, probing gently. “Can you open your hand? That’s it.” More probing. Fingers. Knuckles. “Close. Open.” His chest muscles eased their grip on his lungs, allowing him to breathe. “You’re all right. Nothing broken. You just need some ice on those knuckles.” He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her—and felt relief when her arms came around him and held on hard.

٭She’s all right,٭ he told Rothvar as the other man approached slowly. ٭She’s all right.٭

Rothvar studied Dillon. ٭He wears Opal; she wears Purple Dusk. She clobbered him hard enough through an Opal shield to leave that kind of bruise?٭