Iyana returned to Vyan's side, snapping him out of his thoughts. She looped her hand around his arm, her fingers naturally finding their place at the crook of his elbow.
"There seem to be a lot of nobles here," she murmured, eyes scanning the crowd. "We won't stand out much in this crowd."
Vyan scoffed playfully. "I'd say we still do. But… do you mind being seen with ?" He gasped, putting a hand over his heart. "Don't tell you're ashad of ."
Iyana raised a brow, feigning offense.
"Ashad of holding the arm of the most powerful and handso man in the empire?" She clicked her tongue. "I wonder who would be that stupid. Not , at least. I, for one, am quite proud of my man. I'd put you on a showcase like a trophy if I could."
He laughed. "That's quite the complint."
"You deserve it," she said with a small smirk, before nudging him lightly with her elbow. "Because I know if I asked you to get the top prize from one of these ga stalls, you'd win without a doubt."
"Oh?" Vyan leaned closer. "Does anything catch your eye, my lady?"
She pointed ahead. "That floral jewelry set looks nice."
The stall was a dart-throwing ga. Colorful, lively—and judging by the annoyed crowd around it, very hard to win.
Vyan straightened his posture dramatically. "Your wish is my command, my lady."
They approached the stall, and a few people stepped aside as Vyan rolled up his sleeves with all the pomp of a stage actor preparing for his final act. The stall owner looked amused, like he'd seen one too many confident n walk away in sha.
But Vyan? He barely tried. His throws were slow, lazy, half-hearted.
Yet… bullseye. Every. Single. Ti.
The crowd murmured. The stall owner narrowed his eyes.
Iyana narrowed hers more.
Once Vyan retrieved the prize—a delicate floral jewelry set of enchanted petals woven into bracelets and earrings—he turned and presented it with a slight bow, smugness painted all over his face.
Iyana accepted it but gave him a sharp side-eye. "Have you ever thrown darts before?"
"Nope."
"So how did you get all of them right?"
He casually snapped his fingers. "Magic."
She sighed and shook her head, though a smile tugged at her lips. "You abuse your power too much, Your Grace."
"Co now, my lady. The journey doesn't matter—" he pointed at the prize, "—the destination does."
"I'm dating such a shrewd man, I swear to the Goddess."
"I prefer resourceful." He grinned. "Now co on. Let's eat sothing. I'm starving."
The festival buzzed around them with warm colors, the scent of fried sweets and roasted ats thick in the air. But despite the cheerful chaos of Preaton, Iyana's gaze stayed sharp—shoulders slightly tensed, eyes flitting from shadow to shadow like she was walking into battle instead of a celebration.
Vyan noticed it, of course. He always did. The way she subtly positioned herself so her back was never turned to any crowd, the asured steps she took even in a place ant for carefree wandering. At least she wasn't trying to break his fingers with her death grip anymore.
Either way, he didn't say anything. He pretended like he didn't notice. There was no convincing Iyana to let down her guard when she didn't want to. She was a commander, after all—sharp, strong, and far too aware of danger to pretend it didn't exist. And so, instead of insisting she relax, Vyan simply took her hand a little more gently and steered them toward the food stalls.
"Try this," he said, tasting it first and handing her a skewer of sizzling grilled at marinated in sothing smoky and sweet. "You need to eat."
She accepted it without protest, but after a few nibbles, she subtly tilted the stick toward him. "I'm full. You have the rest."
"Are you now?" Vyan raised an eyebrow, amused. "That's funny, because I was just about to say the sa thing." He handed her a bowl of noodles that were most definitely hers and began nudging bite after bite her way.
Iyana frowned. "Vee—"
He held up a hand with dramatic flair. "If you don't eat, I won't eat."
"What kind of emotional blackmail—"
"The kind that works," he replied with a victorious smirk.
She glared at him, but it was the kind of glare that didn't carry real heat. A mont passed. Then, with a huff that was more exasperated affection than anything else, she leaned forward and took a bite of the noodles he offered.
And Vyan smiled—because she didn't pull away afterward. She kept eating, slowly but steadily, only pausing when he distracted her with another offering from a different stall. He didn't push her, just quietly made sure her hands were never empty for too long.
He could understand the reasons behind her not wanting to eat, but she had skipped far too many als in the past few days for him to not scam her into having a proper al. Not to ntion, she was a soldier. How was she going to fight if she didn't eat well? Geez, this girl lost all common sense when it ca to worrying about him.
"See?" he said after a while, wiping a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Tastes better when I'm the one feeding you."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Maybe it did.
After stuffing themselves silly with skewers, dumplings, spiced rolls, and a suspiciously spicy corn soup that nearly brought tears to Vyan's eyes, he clasped his chest and declared, "We cannot, in good conscience, walk away from this al without dessert. It would be a cri. Against humanity. Against ."
"You say that like we didn't already commit several war cris with how much we've eaten," Iyana replied dryly, brushing her fingers with a napkin.
"Exactly why we need to cleanse our souls with sugar," he insisted, tugging her gently toward a quieter part of the block.
She simply went along, well aware of his overflowing love for desserts.
Soon, they reached a café nestled under the overhang of pink lanterns and climbing vines. It was quaint, with wooden windows, round tables, and golden lighting that made the air feel warm. The bell above the door jingled softly as they entered, but oddly—there was no one else there.
Iyana's brow quirked. "Did we just walk into a ghost café?"
"No," Vyan said smoothly, a little too smoothly. "I may or may not have booked it."
"You what?"
"I wanted so peace and quiet with you. Is that so bad?" he feigned innocence, pulling her chair out like a proper gentleman. She narrowed her eyes at him but sat anyway.
The nu was handwritten on a soft parchnt paper, with flowery descriptions of all kinds of sweets. Vyan, as expected, ordered sothing oozing with dark chocolate and extra fudge. Iyana wrinkled her nose and chose a berry tart instead.
"Having too much sugar is never good," she comnted.
"I feel personally attacked," he asked, clearly wounded.
"Just stop using magic for every little thing and do more exercise. You'll live," she said, barely hiding her smile.
"Hey, I exercise enough," he protested.
Iyana took a glance at him and humd with a mischievous smirk. "I suppose that makes sense. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to maintain that body."
Vyan blushed a little at that.
Their tea ca first, steaming in porcelain cups with tiny floral patterns. As they stirred in honey and cream, Vyan leaned back in his seat and looked around fondly.
"Do you know Katelyn recomnded this place?" he said casually. "She recomnded all kinds of places to go in Preaton. She has been here a lot of tis."
That caught Iyana's attention. "I see. How's Princess Katelyn been?"
Vyan sipped his tea and let the words linger. "Good. I dropped by the palace yesterday to see Tia. I ended up bumping into the kids too."
The clink of Iyana's spoon in her cup paused. "You ca to the palace yesterday?" she asked slowly. "When?"
Her tone wasn't accusing—just curious. But it was enough to make Vyan sit a little straighter.
"Evening," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Just for a bit." He suddenly found great interest in his chocolate cake.
"And you didn't tell ?" Her voice was light, but he got so obviously nervous that she arched an eyebrow. "Why?"
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