He nodded. “I will settle a sum on you and—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “I will have nothing from this house. I have already sent her a letter, and she has replied. It is arranged. When this is done, we move to Wodell. I have an uncle there who will take us in. As I am finally free to leave, I will leave immediately. And I will not live in this land again. I will not even speak its name.”

The vigorous way she shared this, the bitterness surfacing in her eyes, he did not doubt she would see this assertion true.

“This is understandable,” he murmured.

She turned her eyes away.

Mac approached.

“Your father’s carriage draws near. They say he is fifteen minutes away. We should bring in the courtiers, laymen and the gentry.”

“They have all been searched for weapons?” Cassius asked.

Mac nodded. “Thoroughly.”

“Right, everyone to their place,” Elena ordered. “Nero, can you wait outside the door and escort Gallienus to the box?”

Nero nodded.

Elena guided Domitia to a settee, Cornelia followed, and then she bent at the waist and stood with them, talking to them quietly.

This was where she was when the first courtiers entered the room.

Cass was on a throne that was new in two ways.

From there, he alternated between watching them enter and watching his princess.

Thus, he saw her take up Domitia’s hand in both of hers, shake it firmly, and he also watched her touch an immobile Cornelia’s shoulder, but at least the woman did not withdraw.

Elena then made her slow way to the podium, the better to see her gown at work, wafting about her hips and legs and shoulders, as she ascended the dais and took her place at his back, right side.

“I would have you in a chair beside me,” he muttered.

“I would have this better vantage,” she muttered in return.

And there was his warrior.

He chuckled.

And then he got down to the business of what he needed to do that day, something he knew his men were doing as Cassius, not their Princess Regent, had ordered.

That was observing every person who entered the room, the language of their bodies, the expressions on their faces, the cast of their glance, on him, on Elena, on her lieutenants, and to each other.

It was a room filled with enemies, and a hand gesture or a quickly averted gaze could mean everything.

He very much liked the space as Elena had altered it. It had majesty. It was true to Airen, but a different Airen. One of color, one that had life.

But this change about them meant most who entered were so intent on taking it in, they gave nothing away.

They were not offered seats, thus they milled about and found spaces to stand, but a line of the Citadel guard kept an aisle open at the side so his father could come in and get direct to his box by walking along the wall, thus not get near his wives when he did.