And in the corner was a tall, healthy green plant with long, fat, glossy leaves.

Slowly, he turned and froze when he saw a squat, round silver vase erupting at its rim with a poof of velvety pale purple roses on the chest at Elena’s side of the bed.

And on the chest by his, a childish drawing Aelia had done while in The Enchantments that his daughter had given him, and he had kept, now stood in a frame.

“What the bloody hell?”

These things had to have been there last night.

However, he had come upstairs with his intended after she’d been at the wine with him and their friends for some hours (something she arranged every night—it was a constant celebration, no courtiers to be found, just Elena, him, people they cared about and a goodly amount of spirits).

She had been kissing him, thus he had been kissing her, and his mind had been elsewhere as they entered the room and fallen in bed.

He turned again.

The couch was long, it looked comfortable, and it was handsome.

On this thought, he continued stalking to his dressing room, threw on his leathers, pulled on his boots, and moved out.

He strode down the hallway, his mood deteriorating as he did so, and he did not meet a single servant to ask where his betrothed was.

But he stopped dead on the stairs down to the entryway.

He did this, for now, under the enormous daunting candelabrum, stood a wide round table of gleaming rosewood, under which was a circular rug with an ombre pattern of midnight blue in the middle, expanding out to sky blue at the edges.

And on the table was a large crystal vase filled with a massive spray of brilliant purple, pale yellow, rich cream and delicate peach gladiolus.

He stared at the blaze of vibrant color in a room that had not had a vibrant anything in centuries, the shock this delivered to his system so extreme, he was unable to move, even when he heard angry words coming from the Great Hall.

“I must again inform you I take my orders from my king…and my prince,” a voice Cassius knew was the castle steward declared.

“And again, I must inform you that I will be your princess and then your queen,” Elena retorted.

“The running of this citadel has always been left directly in the efficient hands of the steward, that being me, including all decisions therein taken, be they about food, spirits, cleaning, maintenance, heating and decorating,” the steward rejoined. “Even the king’s wives have no say in such matters.”

“I am not called to the king’s bed when he has gathered enough energy to perform,” Elena returned, and Cassius’s gut jolted, for he had the unusual desire to emit a bark of laughter. “I am in the Prince Regent’s bed, thankfully, and he has no problem bestowing the right of decorating her own home to his bride, that being me.”