Aelin waved him off. “Need I remind you that despite winning this war, we are no longer flush with gold?” Rowan slid his arm around her shoulders. “Need I remind you that since you beheaded Maeve, I am a Prince of Doranelle once again, with access to my assets and estates? And that with Maeve outed as an imposter, half of her wealth goes to you … and the other to the Whitethorns?” Aelin blinked at him slowly. The others grinned. Even Lorcan. Rowan kissed her. “A new library and Royal Theater,” he murmured onto her mouth. “Consider them my mating presents to you, Fireheart.”
