Wine swirled in the glass he held, the afternoon sunlight casting a deep orange reflection on the desk. Zayden stared at the papers before him, a frown that wouldn't leave his face.
"General?"
Zayden turned back to the room. His soldiers were waiting for his orders.
"So, even after months of investigation, no one can explain why that horse was in my territory?" His voice was calm, but his grip on the glass tightened until fine cracks formed across its surface.
The knights exchanged uneasy glances, their gazes dropping.
"We… apologize."
"I don't want your apology." The words came out abruptly. "Tell me how something from Hianshu trespassed onto my land."
Silence filled the hall.
Zayden's jaw moved. He drank, but the wine tasted bitter on his tongue.
"I'll let it slide—this time. But if I hear of anything else from Hianshu crossing my borders…" He slammed the glass onto the table and stood. "I won't let it slide."
The knights flinched. When it came to Hianshu, the general's mercy was nothing more than a myth, leaving a chill in the air. They each gulped down a shot of their drinks.
Zayden creaked the door open.
Ren stood just beyond it, pale, frozen as if caught in something he shouldn't have seen. His gaze flicked up to Zayden's, startled.
The general stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Is something wrong?" He tried to smile but only his lips curled. He didn't want to frighten his servant.
Ren flinched, stepping back instantly.
"I-I apologize," he stammered, voice low and shaky.
"Why are you trembling?" Zayden frowned, studying him closely. "Did you hear what I said?" He paused, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth. "Don't worry. It doesn't concern you."
Ren looked up, then lowered his gaze.
He talked about belonging to Hianshu…
He bit his lips.
"Eiran must be waiting for dinner," Zayden said, breaking the long silence that fell in the hallway.
They walked to the carriage without saying a word to one another. Despite finding it strange, Ren didn't question it. Eiran and Zayden both spoke nonstop.
"Maybe that's why they are father and son," Ren told himself.
Inside the carriage, Ren sat across Zayden. Without realizing it, he had been staring at him far too long as he tried to find similarities between Eiran and him. They looked nothing alike.
"I know I am handsome but a hole might form on my face if you keep staring at me," Zayden chuckled, without looking at him.
Ren didn't answer. He simply turned his gaze towards the window of the carriage, looking at the green scenery until the wheels slowed to a halt in front of the mansion.
He stepped out first, holding the door open for Zayden.
Once the general exited, Ren shut the door and followed him inside.
"Dad!" Eiran dashed toward Zayden, embracing him tightly.
"Did you get ready for dinner?" Zayden smiled, gently caressing the little boy's head.
Eiran nodded quickly.
"Uh-huh! I even set the table like you said last time."
Then, he turned to Ren and tugged on his sleeve. "Papa, sit next to me today! I haven't seen you alllll day!"
The room went silent. The two men exchanged awkward glances while the little boy looked up at them.
Zayden didn't respond right away. Ren, too, froze at the words, like always.
"We've asked you not to call him that," Zayden said, his voice still.
"But he is," Eiran replied, as if that settled everything. "He was there before I could even talk."
"Eiran—" Ren began, his voice not louder than a whisper.
"You hold me when I cry," the boy went on, not listening. "You sing to me when my ears hurt. You are here when no one else is."
Ren lowered his gaze, almost ashamed. Not of Eiran but of himself. Did he accidentally give this child more importance than a simple duty? He shook his head. He didn't.
"Eiran, he is a mere servant," Zayden's voice grew sharp. "It is his duty to attend to your needs."
"I don't care," Eiran stated firmly. "He's my Papa."
Zayden exhaled through his nose, not quite a sigh. Rather he tried to control the anger surging from within. He turned to the side. "Go wash your hands."
"But—"
"Go."
Eiran didn't argue again. He scurried out of the room, feet tapping against the marble floor until he disappeared beyond the hall.
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Ren didn't speak. His hands had curled into fists at his sides, but his expression remained still, like always.
Zayden looked at him, not moving.
"You let him say it."
"I tried to stop him," Ren argued.
"You did not try very hard."
"We talked about it last time…"
"That he will stop when you leave? And when will that be?"
Ren flinched. Just slightly. His fingers loosened.
Zayden stepped forward, gaze fixed. "You were there when he was born. I didn't forget that. The first person who held him…"
Ren didn't look up.
"You were the one who stopped his cries every night," Zayden went on, slowly. "Not the nanny. But you." He paused.
"He must be attached… The kind he belongs to imprints the first person they come in contact with as their parent…" Zayden mumbled to himself.
A long pause.
"You are a beta, right?" He finally asked.
Ren blinked. His throat moved, but he didn't speak.
Zayden's eyes narrowed, but his tone didn't change. "You never give off a scent. But you flinch when there are alpha pheromones in the air when the knights train… That is not normal."
Still, no answer.
"I might be mistaken," Zayden said finally. "Sometimes, betas can sense strong pheromones too… Since there are so many dominants in the training ground, it should not be that strange…" he nodded, almost as if he explained it to himself.
He turned and walked toward the dining hall.
Behind him, Ren stood frozen, eyes low, his shadow stretching long behind him in the hallway light. He clutched his chest, his hands shaking.
He sniffed his wrists, afraid there might be a scent leaking into the air—one beyond his control.
He reached for the bottle hidden in his pants pocket. His eyes flicked around the hallway, making sure it was empty. The general wouldn't turn around. He never did. He didn't need to. It was the servants' duty to follow—and failing that was not an option.
Ren quickly sprayed the liquid onto his neck, then his wrists. The scent-blocker stung against his skin.
He slipped the bottle back into his pocket.
This should hide it for now…