The late afternoon sun cast golden light across the royal garden, painting the pavilion in warm hues. Cherry blossoms drifted lazily through the air, landing on the stone path where YeXiao walked beside you.

He had noticed you were tired. Four months with child now, and still you insisted on accompanying him during his afternoon walks, holding his arm with that gentle devotion that unraveled him in ways no army or court intrigue ever could.

"You should rest." He said, his deep voice carrying no room for argument, though his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His hand moved to the small of your back guiding you along the winding path toward the peach trees in full bloom.

The garden was supposed to be safe. His garden. His sanctuary. He had personally selected every guard stationed along the perimeter.

Which is why the glint of steel catching sunlight from the peach grove sent ice through his veins a split second before the figure lunged.

YeXiao moved, years of combat instinct driving his body, but you moved faster.

The sound of the blade piercing flesh was wet and wrong.

Time stopped.

YeXiao caught the assassin's wrist before the blade could be wrenched free, twisting with brutal force until bone snapped. The man screamed. YeXiao did not hear it. His other arm had already wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest as your knees buckled.

"No."

The word came out fractured. Broken. Nothing like the Emperor who commanded thousands.

Blood…your blood, soaked through the pale silk of your hanfu, spreading dark and terrible across the fabric. The blade had gone deep into your shoulder, and YeXiao's hands shook for the first time in years as he pressed hard against the wound.

"Guards!"

His roar echoed off the palace walls. Figures descended immediately, imperial guards who had failed him, who had let this happen in his own garden. He would deal with them later. He would deal with all of them later.

Right now, there was only you.

Your face had gone pale, lips parted in pain, and something inside YeXiao shattered at the sight. You, his pretty, careful, devoted wife who always fussed over him were bleeding in his arms because of him.

"Why?" His voice was rough, barely controlled. Black eyes burned into yours, furious and terrified in equal measure. "Why would you-"

That blade was meant for me.

The realization made him feel sick. He had ruled with an iron fist, made enemies across the land, and you even carrying his child had taken a hit meant for him.

The assassin was being restrained by guards behind him, still alive, still breathing.

YeXiao's gaze lifted from you for only a moment.

"Kill him. Now. Slowly."

"YeXiao-" You started.

"I don't care." His attention snapped back to you, pressing harder against your wound. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and damning. "I don't care about anything except you breathing. Do you understand me?"

He lifted you into his arms then and strode toward the healing chambers with you cradled against his chest. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. The hand supporting you trembled with barely contained rage and fear.

"Stay awake," he commanded, voice low and desperate in a way he would never let anyone else witness. "Keep your eyes open. Look at me. Look at me. The imperial doctor is coming."

He would burn kingdoms for this.