Twilight's Dawn

himself. He grabbed the back of her shirt before she reached Falonar, and began a spin that would lift her away from the other Eyrien.
    She lashed out with her right hand as she was lifted and tossed away from the men.
    Lucivar felt Falonar’s Sapphire shield break under a punch of Surreal’s Gray power as she lashed out. Saw the blood on the Eyrien’s left arm. Felt the big knife that slid on his Red shield instead of slicing him along the waist as Falonar responded with a counterattack. Tossing Surreal aside, Lucivar continued the spin, calling in his own fighting knife.
    By the time he faced Falonar, he was armed, he was balanced, and he was ready.
    The fury in Falonar’s eyes was aimed right at him, but the man stepped back and lowered his knife.
    Lucivar glanced at Falonar’s left arm. A deep slice through muscle, freely bleeding.
    “Surreal,” he said, never taking his eyes off the other Warlord Prince, “go to the Keep. Now.”
    “I’ll go back to The Tavern after—”
    “Unless you want a knife dance with me, you will do as you’re told,” he snapped.
    As he felt her stare at his back, he’d never been more aware of how much of her temper and inclinations came from her Dea al Mon heritage.
    There were good reasons why the Children of the Wood were feared by the other races in Kaeleer.
    She moved slowly, circling around him and Falonar.
    “ Prince Falonar may have proved that a cripple has no place among Eyriens, but I just proved he wouldn’t have survived that demon-dead bastard any better than Rainier did.”
    Mother Night, she’s riding the killing edge. The wild look in her eyes wasn’t quite sane. That, more than anything else, was why males didn’t want witches involved in physical fighting. Females were a lot harder to control once they rose to the killing edge.
    “Go to the Keep,” he said firmly. “I will deal with this.” And I’ll hurt you if I have to.
    The moment she walked out of the communal eyrie and it was safe to move without provoking an attack, Zaranar and Rothvar rushed over to Rainier.
    Rothvar’s hand hovered over Rainier’s leg. “Hell’s fire, there are healing spells already holding those muscles and bone together.”
    Lucivar backed away from Falonar, who stood straight and proud despite the bleeding arm.
    “Get that arm tended,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
    Falonar looked at the wound that had come from the sight-shielded blade held by a furious woman. “What is there to say?”
    Plenty , Lucivar thought. “Get it tended.”
    He waited until Falonar left before sending out a call on an Ebon-gray spear thread. *Daemon!*
    *Lucivar?*
    *I need Jaenelle here as a Healer. Now.*
    *Who?*
    *Rainier.*
    *We’ll be there.*
    The link between them snapped as Daemon shut him out. He didn’t take offense. He’d just dumped a basket of problems in his brother’s lap, the most dangerous being the Queen they both loved and still served—the Queen who was also a Black Widow and a Healer. There wasn’t going to be anything pleasant about being in a Coach with Jaenelle while riding the Winds to Ebon Rih, not after telling her that Rainier was the reason for the urgent call.
    Vanishing his knife, Lucivar looked at Rainier, who lay on the floor, his eyes closed, his face tight with pain. Then he looked at the two Warlords. “Can you get him to the Keep?”
    They nodded. Using Craft, they lifted Rainier and gently floated him out of the eyrie.
    Hallevar looked at the rest of the Warlords, then jerked a thumb toward the door.
    The men bolted, no doubt glad to be clear of the anger and whatever problems were coming.
    “Falonar is a Sapphire-Jeweled Warlord Prince and your second-in-command,” Hallevar said. “I trained you both when you were youngsters in the hunting camps, and that gives me some leave to speak my mind, but a Warlord Prince only tolerates so much of that.”
    Lucivar just waited.
    “It started with Falonar saying something about assessing Rainier’s skills, and Rainier saying he thought it was best to wait for you. Guess that didn’t sit well with Falonar because the next thing I knew, he tossed a sparring stick to Rainier and started the moves. Once you’re that far, the choice is counter the moves or get whacked. I began watching close. You’d said the Dharo Warlord Prince had been wounded in a fight and you had him here to heal and improve his skills. I don’t think you said how bad the leg was. That’s not an excuse, but I