"This room... feels like it has no end," Cashew muttered, his soft voice echoing faintly off the high vaulted ceilings as he tiptoed around, carefully placing flower pots in every corner he could find. His arms were trembling slightly from the effort, and a thin sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead. Still, he kept going, determined to bring some familiarity to the overwhelming grandness of the room.
Florian watched him from the massive bed—his new bed now—nestled in plush velvet sheets that probably cost more than his old house back on Earth. He offered Cashew a small, sympathetic smile, one filled with gratitude and guilt.
The Obsidian Wing. The Royal Wing. The Queen's Wing.
It had only been a few hours since Heinz had—on a reckless, emotional impulse—declared that Florian would move here. Just like that. No warning, no explanation. Just a curt command, and suddenly this entire wing, once occupied by the late Queen Anastasia, was now his.
