A nod, Lucien excusing himself to go and start readying things.
Ianthe had shown Feyre to her old rooms, pushing her inside and then locking the door behind her. But Feyre refused to sit or to take any comfort in the luxury. She only got angrier as the time passed. And yet without her strength or her newfound powers, she was helpless. The door wouldn't budge no matter how much she pounded on it and of course the windows had been spelled so when she did attempt to throw a chair through one, she broke the chair instead of the glass.
For the moment she stayed on her feet, pacing to and fro, and feeling like nothing more than a caged beast. He was going to regret this. All of this.