When they walked out the side door of the eyrie into the garden, Jaenelle gave them a slashing look.

*I shielded her,* Jaenelle told them. *Having your tempers wash over her would have spoiled her pleasure, so if it’s not already settled, pick another time and place for it.*

*It’s settled,* Saetan replied.

Lucivar nodded.

Turning back to Marian, Jaenelle smiled. “Papa and I have to go now. I’ll send over those cuttings in a day or two. You’ve got enough to plant right now.”

“Oh,” Marian said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. Would you like something to eat before you go?”

“No, thank you,” Saetan replied, giving Marian a warm smile.

Not sure how annoyed Jaenelle was with him for letting his temper slip, Lucivar breathed a sigh of relief when she kissed him before accepting Saetan’s arm and walking back to the landing place where the Coach waited for them.

Which left him alone with Marian, who gave him a shy smile. He would have taken a kiss from her, too, but suggesting it, even teasingly, would upset her, so he settled for the smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s wonderful. Better than I imagined it could be.”

“You’re pleased with it, then?”

“Oh, yes.”

He nodded. “It’ll look even better when you’ve got everything in place.”

He’d meant it as a compliment, so he didn’t know what to think when her eyes widened and she began to look distressed.

“Oh,” she said. “The furniture.”

“It’s fine.”

“I know the work in the eyrie comes first, so I won’t—”

She stopped when he raised his hand.

They were going to learn to compromise. She might as well start learning now.

“There’s a lot of plants here,” he said, nodding toward the dozens of clay pots that clogged several of the paths around the beds. “Since they’re living things, you have to deal with them first. So we’re going to compromise.”

She studied him warily. “Compromise.”

“Yeah.” His mood lightened. He was going to piss her off, and she was just going to have to deal with it. “If you want to stay in the garden from sunrise to sundown until everything is planted, that’s fine with me—as long as you promise not to lift one piece of furniture, using Craft or otherwise.”

“But the furniture needs to be arranged and—”

“And I’ll do the moving, the lifting, whatever it takes to put the pieces where you want them. You try to go around me and do it yourself, you’re going to spend a day in bed resting, no matter what else you think you have to do.”

He watched her hands curl into fists.

“You call that a compromise?” Her voice almost rose to a shout.

He pretended to consider, then sighed. “All right. You can move the lamps.”

“The lamps.”