The perks of being the Royal Steward of the Private Chambers were immediately apparent.
First, Elian got a room that didn't smell like wet dog. It was located in the servants' wing of the Royal Tower, just down the hall from Cassian's chambers. It had a window. It had a mattress that wasn't made of straw. It even had a small desk.
Second, Mrs. Gable, the Head Housekeeper, now had to curtsy to him.
"Steward Vane," Mrs. Gable said through gritted teeth, handing him a stack of fresh linens. "The Prince requests these be pressed with lavender."
"Lavender is so last season, Mrs. Gable," Elian said, leaning against the doorframe of his new room. "We are switching to sandalwood. It aligns better with his aggressive diplomacy era."
Mrs. Gable looked like she wanted to strangle him with the sheets. "As you wish, Sir."
She marched away.
Elian grinned. "I could get used to this."
