Marian refilled her coffee mug and took a moment to admire the coffeepot she’d bought with part of her wages. Yaslana hadn’t said a word about the pot’s sudden appearance in his kitchen, but he’d definitely approved of the taste of the coffee she could brew in it.

She walked down what she’d labeled the “domestic” corridor, since it provided entry to the pantry and the laundry and drying room—and the small area between the pantry and laundry that had a door to the outside and a purpose she was still puzzling over. Opening the door, she studied the land in front of her.

The growing season was already well along, and she wasn’t sure what kinds of plants might be available. But the women in Riada would know—or she could ask Lady Angelline the next time the Queen stopped by for a brief visit. A few vegetables, a few herbs. Maybe some flowers. Yaslana wouldn’t mind if she cleared a little ground. At least, she was almost certain he wouldn’t mind.

He was, and wasn’t, what she’d expected, based on the things she’d heard about Warlord Princes and him in particular. She had no doubt he was a trained warrior and a born predator whose temper could turn deadly in a heartbeat. She could see it in the way he moved, the way he looked at everything around him. But she hadn’t actually seen a display of temper. Well, not much of one. The only time he’d snarled at her since she’d arrived was when he’d come home early one afternoon, taken a long look at her, and decided she needed something to eat. When she’d told him she wasn’t hungry, he informed her that anyone who worked as hard as she did was not going to deprive her body of food. Then he marched her into the kitchen and rummaged through the cold box until he put together a plate of food that he considered sufficient. His idea of sufficient was vastly different from hers, but her token effort at eating had satisfied him enough that he’d eaten what was left on her plate.

Since he didn’t seem to care what she did as long as she was pleased with the result, she didn’t think he’d mind her clearing some ground and having the pleasure of a little garden of her own.

After vanishing her coffee mug, then calling it back in so that it would reappear on the kitchen counter next to the sink, Marian pushed up her sleeves, stepped outside, and got to work.