Yen’fay gasped, feeling his face with mock horror. “How… how could you…” he deadpanned, trying to look completely serious, even as a pleased smile threatened. “I have been robbed of my most cherished snoot by my very own kin. This insult will not stand.”

“Say’ri…” Yen’fay breathed with delight, hands fluttering over the delicate little thing. ‘Delicate’ might have been a misnomer – though hardly more than a seedling, the gold-flecked leaves stretched proudly to the sky, as if daring any who might try to snuff out its new lease on life. It was a fighter, just like him. Like her.

He took the tiny pot the young sprout was housed in, and pressed a loving kiss to her forehead, even if it ran the risk of annoying her for being childish. He was simply too delighted about the prospects of his new gift to really care much, honestly. “Aye, sister, you have the right of it. I vow to make it a fetching specimen as any you might find in the courtyard. It will be my own special project.”