The moment Cherion finally stepped out of that suffocating study, he had to resist the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees and thank every god in existence.

He felt like he had just walked out of a courtroom after facing a life sentence. Honestly, he was genuinely shocked the meeting hadn’t ended with someone drawing up official declarations of war.

He let out a long, careful breath, adjusting the front of his vest as he walked alongside the two massive, imposing figures of Zarius and Gillian.

Unable to keep the anxiety quiet any longer, Cherion leaned slightly toward the prince, his eyes wide with earnest concern. "Um, Prince Gillian? So... the peace treaty is entirely safe, right? I just really want to make sure. Like... no international incidents? No surprise wars? No one accidentally declaring blood vengeance?"

Gillian stopped in his tracks, turning to face Cherion. The exhausted expression he’d worn while disciplining his sister disappeared instantly, replaced by that dangerously charming smile he always seemed to have ready at command. "Of course, Lord Cherion," Gillian replied smoothly, his voice dropping into that warm, ridiculously reassuring tone that sounded professionally designed to lower people’s defenses. "You don’t have to worry about a single thing. This was all just a minor, rather loud misunderstanding. No permanent harm has been done."

He paused briefly before glancing past Cherion toward Zarius.

An incredibly awkward, slightly sheepish smile broke across the prince’s handsome face as he swept his eyes across the indoor corridor, silently acknowledging the absolute disaster his sister had made of the estate’s pristine flora. "Well... no permanent harm except to the Duke’s prized garden, of course. "I will definitely ensure a handsome sum of compensation to cover the entire cost of the landscaping renovation."

"There is absolutely no need to bother, Prince Gillian," Zarius replied. "My household can manage its own repairs. If the cost run too high, I will simply liquidate and sell off those lavish treasures you so generously gifted to us earlier."

Gillian choked on a sudden laugh, thoroughly amused by the Duke’s blatant, petty jab. Beside them, Cherion could only offer a strained, sweat-dropping smile.

Butbefore Cherion could even offer a polite response, Gillian stepped a fraction closer. The prince reached down, took Cherion’s hand, and bowed his head slightly. Then, while staring directly into Cherion’s eyes with shameless intensity, Gillian pressed a devastatingly bold kiss onto the back of his knuckles.

"Other than that," Gillian murmured softly as he stared intently into Cherion’s eyes, "I would absolutely hate it if we had to become enemies, Lord Cherion."

Right beside them, Zarius froze so completely it genuinely looked like someone had hit him with a petrification spell.

Then his expression cracked.

His jaw tightened so hard it looked painful, and his dark eyes widened with such raw disbelief and fury that Cherion briefly worried the Duke might actually start seeing red.

Before Gillian could even straighten up, Zarius moved. The Duke stepped between them like a walking snowstorm fueled entirely by spite.

With the pettiest level of aggression imaginable, Zarius planted one heavy hand firmly onto Cherion’s waist and dragged him securely back against his side.

Then, using a single rigid finger, he aggressively shoved Gillian’s wrist away from Cherion like he was removing contamination.

Unfortunately, the murderous aura pouring off him made it significantly less funny.

The physical rejection was comedic in its petulance, but the aura radiating off Zarius was lethal.

"Yes," Zarius rumbled. His deadpan glare locked onto Gillian with the intensity of an execution notice. "You will highly hate it if we have to become enemies again."

He stressed the word you so hard it practically became a threat.

Gillian didn’t flinch. Instead, a delighted, booming chuckle bubbled up from his chest. He pulled his hand back, entirely unbothered by the Duke’s terrifying display of possessive hostility. "Ah, Duke Valtrane’s hospitality is truly as warm as they say," Gillian teased, adjusting his military cuffs. "Well, as much as I would love to stay and discuss the nuances of our newfound friendship, I’m afraid Iryna and I must head back to the Palace now."

Zarius adjusted his grip on Cherion’s waist, pulling him just an inch closer as he stared down the prince. "I couldn’t agree more," Zarius said flatly. "It is already getting incredibly dark. You should not be out on the roads at such a late hour."

Cherion blinked, thoroughly confused. He instinctively turned his head toward the grand, floor-to-ceiling glass windows lining the eastern corridor. Outside, the afternoon sun was blazing so brightly it practically looked divine. Golden light flooded the ruined courtyard in full force. The sky was perfectly blue. It wasn’t even remotely close to sunset.

Behind them, a small crowd had gathered to witness the final departure. Flio, Elios, Reiner, Ezek, and a still-brooding Marielle were all lined up near the entryway.

Upon hearing Zarius claim that the blazing sun was "incredibly dark," Reiner brought a hand up to his face, his shoulders shaking violently as he tried to cough to conceal a sudden explosion of giggles. Beside him, Ezek went entirely rigid, staring directly at the ceiling with an intensely focused, blank expression, desperately fighting the urge to smirk. Elios merely raised an eyebrow, while Flio shared a highly amused, knowing glance with a sweat-dropping Cherion.

"Right... incredibly dark," Gillian echoed with a smirk, glancing outside at the aggressively bright sunlight before gesturing toward his sister, who was already marching toward the entrance with the rigid dignity of someone pretending she hadn’t nearly started a magical civil war an hour ago.

The entire group escorted the Solaric siblings outside to the grand driveway, where an enormous imperial carriage decorated with gold detailing and the Solaric crest waited elegantly by the entrance.

The imperial guards standing nearby looked deeply relieved that nobody had died.

As Gillian stepped up to the carriage door, Cherion broke away from Zarius’s side, jogging forward a few steps with a bright smile. He hated leaving things on a bitter note, and his inner peacemaker simply couldn’t help itself.

"Please don’t be shy, you two!" Cherion called out cheerfully, waving his hands. "You really need to visit again!"

Iryna stopped right at the steps of the carriage. She paused, slowly turning her head back toward Cherion. Her pristine royal mask slipped for a fraction of a second, her perfect eyebrows arching in genuine surprise. "Really?" she asked, her voice carrying a rare note of curiosity.

"Yeah, absolutely!" Cherion replied, nodding enthusiastically before his expression turned hilariously stern and practical. He lifted a single finger, pointing it back and forth between Iryna and Marielle, who was standing on the porch with her arms crossed, glaring like a gargoyle. "Only if you both promise absolutely no more fighting, and no destroying another single side of the property! My heart, and the Duke’s wallet, can’t survive another garden renovation."

Marielle let out an offended scoff loud enough for everyone to hear and sharply looked away.

Iryna, however, didn’t scoff. She stared at Cherion for a long moment before her eyes drifted to Marielle. A sharp smirk spread across the princess’s face.

"I make no promises regarding the property, Lord Cherion," Iryna retorted smoothly, her voice laced with an undeniable edge of anticipation as she stepped inside the luxury carriage. "But I suppose I wouldn’t mind a rematch in a more... durable environment."

Gillian laughed softly, giving Cherion one final, dramatic wink before sliding into the carriage seat. "Until next time, Lord Cherion. Keep the Duke on his toes for me."