16

The banquet dragged on long after the stars had claimed the sky. The wine was flowing freely now—no longer in cups, but in bottles passed between hands with little ceremony and even less concern. Most of the estate's soldiers had either collapsed under tables or wandered off, singing or puking in quiet corners. The fires burned low. Embers floated like wayward stars around the courtyard's edges.

At the high table, the air was still heavy with scent—grilled meats, charred spices, citrus from the wine.

And Yen?

Yen had not stopped drinking.

While Zion and Arkon traded cups between sips, Yen had already emptied an entire bottle alone—and then opened another. And another. The sealed corks sat discarded on the table like fallen teeth. He didn't bother with cups anymore. Just drank straight from the bottle, letting the glass tip past his mouth in long, slow pulls that made his throat shift with each swallow.

But he remained sharp.

No sway in his seat. No slur on his tongue. No fog in those eyes that watched everything.

If anything, he looked more alive the more he drank.

"It's torture," Zion groaned, leaning back in his seat and tossing one arm dramatically over his face. "Three years. Surrounded by men. Sweaty, smelly, foul-tempered, farty, unwashed men."

He peeked out from behind his hand and locked eyes with Lily. "Lady Lily, you don't know what I've endured. I would've paid to see a flower like you. Even a hallucination of a woman would've done."

Lily smiled politely and tilted her head just so, but her eyes flicked briefly to Yen.

He didn't move.

Arkon sighed and filled his cup again. "You had tavern maids visit the camp."

Zion scoffed. "Once! Maybe twice. Okay, four times if you count the twins."

"He also slept with a foreign noble's daughter," Arkon added, cool and dry. "Twice. The second time, he was nearly stabbed by her fiancé. Who, I might add, was also a noble."

"That was diplomacy," Zion said, raising his finger. "I was building alliances. Deep, intimate, sweaty—"

"Twice," Arkon interrupted, "he was caught mid-thrust by our scouting units."

"Stop! Stop!" Zion flailed both arms as if physically swatting the words away. "You promised never to speak of that!"

Arkon moved his chair an inch farther, dragging his plate with him. "Don't touch me, you degenerate."

"Whore," Yen spat, low and flat, still drinking straight from the bottle.

Zion gasped, scandalized. "You two always pick on me!" He pointed wildly between them, chopsticks now used as makeshift weapons. "You're both cruel and jealous of my talents!"

"Maybe I should marry you off," Yen said casually, eyes half-lidded. "A political alliance. Tie you to one of the southern provinces."

Zion dropped his chopsticks. "The south?! No—no, no, absolutely not. They're vicious down there. Women from the south would rip off my dick and pickle it."

"Exactly," Yen muttered, lifting the bottle to his lips again.

"Why not Arkon?!" Zion stabbed a finger at his cousin. "He's always screwing southern girls! With that stoic soldier charm! He could fuck a rock and make it emotional!"

"I'm a virgin," Arkon said flatly.

Silence.

Yen stopped mid-drink.

Zion's jaw dropped.

Lily, halfway through a sip of water, choked—then turned her face to Yen to stifle the laugh that burst from her lips. Her shoulders shook as she covered her mouth. She failed completely to hide the smile curling at the edges of her cheeks.

Zion, on the other hand, exploded.

"YOU'RE WHAT?!" he shrieked. "You? You're a VIRGIN?! What the fuck?!"

"I am," Arkon replied, unmoved, sipping his wine like they were discussing the weather. "You're a whore. I maintain balance."

"You've killed men with your bare hands and you've never—?" Zion gasped. "You have abs like carved stone! What is the point of all that muscle?!"

"Discipline."

Zion made a strangled sound.

Yen stood up.

His movements were unhurried, but final. The kind of shift that meant the fun was over and the evening was winding down because he said so. He reached for Lily's wrist, and without a word, pulled her gently but firmly to her feet. She rose, plate empty, cup nearly drained, her body moving with a fluid obedience that looked like grace but felt like surrender.

"Rest," Yen said, voice low but commanding as he glanced at Zion and Arkon. "I'll assign your posts tomorrow."

"Wait, wait—hold on, we're not done roasting him yet!" Zion said, still wheezing. "This is history in the making. He's older than me! Arkon, be honest—have you even kissed a woman?"

Arkon blinked. "My mother. On the cheek."

Zion slapped the table, howling.

"One's a whore, the other's a celibate—fucking cousins," Yen muttered, shaking his head as he pushed away from the table.

He turned, Lily tucked against his side, his hand never leaving her waist. She moved beside him, not behind him, though her steps were smaller, quieter. The fabric of her robe brushed his sleeve as they walked away from the firelight and into the darker parts of the estate's inner halls.

Behind them, Zion was still talking.

"I knew it! It's always the serious ones. All that tension and nowhere to put it! No wonder you spar like you want to kill something—you're repressed!"

Arkon didn't respond. He just drank.

Yen said nothing as he and Lily slipped into the quiet corridor.

The door closed behind them.

The warmth and chaos of the feast faded.

Only silence now.

Only the soft steps of Yen and Lily, his grip still resting at her waist like a tether. The wine still burned in his blood.