"Both of you will assist her."
Yen's voice cut through the quiet with the kind of calm authority that didn't invite discussion—it declared truth. He didn't look up from the map as he spoke. He didn't need to. His presence alone filled the pavilion like smoke curling from a deep ember, saturating everything with heat and control.
"Arkon—security and stability." Yen's finger tapped a red-marked circle on the map. "Zion—entertainment and lodging."
Across the table, Arkon gave a short nod, eyes already narrowed in calculation.
Zion, on the other hand, perked up like a mischievous dog being told he could finally leave the leash. "Entertainment?" he echoed, grinning like a man handed a brothel key.
Yen ignored him. "Your proposals will be sent to me. I'll review and approve them first. Only after that will I pass them to Lily."
He turned his head slowly to glance at Zion, gaze sharp. "She will handle everything else."
Arkon bowed without hesitation. "Understood."
Zion leaned his weight back on his palms with a sly grin. "You know," he began, eyes flicking to Lily, "I can just give mine directly to her lady. I'm sure she'd love to see the current trends—especially since she doesn't get to go out and all."
Yen's cup paused midair. He turned his full attention to Zion, the air tightening like a bowstring.
"Keep your dick to yourself when you're in my grounds."
Zion flinched. "Wha—but!"
Thud!
Before he could finish his sputtering protest, Arkon's boot struck his side with enough force to knock him off his cushion and into the pavilion's post. He wheezed, clutching his ribs, face twisted in a betrayed grimace.
Lily, ever composed, covered her mouth quickly—but her laughter was obvious even behind her sleeve.
Yen sipped his tea like none of it surprised him.
"This will serve as diplomacy," he said after a pause, voice low but resonant, a warning wrapped in elegance. "If you don't want war, take this seriously."
He took another sip, slow and precise, savoring the warmth as though tasting strategy itself.
"Though," he added casually, eyes flicking toward the horizon visible through the fluttering silk sheets, "we could wage war if you want. I'm fine with either choice."
Silence dropped like an axe.
Arkon didn't so much as blink. Zion, on the other hand, had frozen mid-cough.
"Nope," Zion said quickly, shaking his head as he sat up. "No war. Big fan of peace. Love it, actually. My favorite."
Arkon gave a single, slow nod, equally uninterested in testing Yen's threat.
"Good."
Yen's gaze lingered on both of them for a breath longer than was comfortable. Then he leaned back, his hand moving to Lily's wrist beneath the table, thumb stroking lazily over her pulse.
"I'll speak with the elders tomorrow. Invitations will be finalized and sent out next month."
Lily reached for her pen as he spoke, already making notes on a separate parchment.
"Lodgings," Yen continued, "must be finished at least two weeks before the festival. The sooner the construction begins, the better."
Zion groaned softly. "You mean oversee construction. Not do it. Right?"
Yen didn't even dignify it with a glance.
"Until then," he said, "I expect peace."
His voice dropped just a touch as he leaned back in his seat, head turning toward Lily beside him.
"I can't leave her for war."
His hand tightened just slightly around her wrist, the motion so subtle only she would've noticed the way his fingers curled. There was no performance in that gesture—only need.
"She's delicate."
"...Yes, Patriarch." Arkon bowed again. This time, his tone carried something different—slightly lower. Not disagreement. But... something else. Agreement laced with understanding, even if the weight of it didn't fully show on his face.
Yen didn't acknowledge it.
Zion squinted suspiciously at Arkon, sensing something, but he didn't get far in his suspicion before a sharp elbow cracked into his ribs.
Thunk
"Ow! Dammit! Enough!"
Yen stood without ceremony, his robes whispering softly as he moved. He didn't even glance back at them. Instead, his hand found Lily's wrist again and tugged her up with him in one smooth, seamless pull. Her balance never faltered—she rose as if he were gravity itself.
"That's all for now," Yen said, already walking with her in tow. "Return to your posts. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we begin preparation."
Snow crunched underfoot as they exited the pavilion, the delicate white powder undisturbed around the polished walkway. Their steps were in sync, hers half a beat behind his. Her robe fluttered faintly behind her, and the hem of his brushed the ground like silk dragging over frost.
It was colder now. But not a word passed between them until they reached the tiled threshold of the estate.
"I'm not delicate," Lily said softly.
She didn't look at him when she said it—her voice barely above the wind's whisper. But she didn't need to. She knew he was listening.
Yen stopped walking.
He turned to her, just slightly, the edge of his face visible as his head dipped.
"Want me at war, then?"
His voice was quieter now—low enough that only she could hear it, a murmur between breaths. There was no venom in it. Just truth. A simple question wrapped in quiet challenge.
She shook her head immediately, eyes lowering. Not because she feared his anger. But because she knew what it meant—what it cost—when he went to war.
He exhaled, and then his arm came around her back, pulling her closer as they resumed walking. His hand gripped the side of her waist.
"Thought so."
They passed through the archway into the stone corridors, footsteps shifting from crunching snow to the hollow sound of polished floors beneath leather soles.
Ahead of them, a servant waited near the column—Jang, ever silent and always present when needed.
"Jang," Yen called with barely a glance. "Bring those to my office."
Jang bowed deeply, already turning to retrieve the parchment and maps from the pavilion.
Lily walked beside Yen, their arms nearly brushing, and yet the space between them felt heavier than anything. It was full of unsaid things—plans, promises, the ghosts of what-if wars, and the ever-present thread of his protectiveness, sharp as a blade under silk.
She wasn't delicate.
But to Yen… she was irreplaceable.
And irreplaceable things were protected. No matter the cost.