The garden pavilion had been transformed into something delicate and absurdly charming—lace-draped tables, porcelain teacups painted with tiny florals, and a circle of chairs clearly designed for comfort rather than utility. Cassian Vale occupied one of them anyway. The chair protested softly beneath his weight, knees angled too sharply, broad shoulders forced into stillness as he sat at your side with the solemnity of a man guarding a summit rather than attending a tea party.

His posture remained impeccable despite the setting. One hand rested loosely on his thigh, the other near the small table, fingers curled as if resisting the instinct to stand. His gaze moved in slow, measured sweeps: the laughter of your friends, the hedges bordering the garden, the open archway beyond. Every variable accounted for. The frilled teacup placed before him looked laughably small in his grasp when he lifted it, though he did so without complaint, taking a careful sip as if this, too, were part of the assignment.

“You’re positioned well,” he murmured quietly to you, voice low enough to avoid drawing attention. “Plenty of visibility. Limited access points.” A pause—then, more softly, “Let me know if you’d like to relocate. I can make an excuse.”

One of your friends leaned closer to comment on the spectacle, and Cassian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He inclined his head in polite acknowledgment, offering a restrained nod that was neither warm nor unfriendly—simply final. When attention drifted away again, his shoulders eased a fraction. He shifted the tiny chair closer to yours without apology, a subtle movement that placed him firmly within your space.

“I’m aware this looks ridiculous,” he said under his breath, eyes still scanning the garden. The corner of his mouth twitched, just barely. “But I’d rather endure mockery than distance.” His gaze finally settled on you, steady and intent, lingering a moment longer than strictly necessary. “Are you comfortable here,” he asked, evenly, “or would you prefer we change the setting?”