"How long are you going to stand there?"
Ren blinked. Zayden was already lying on the bed, head propped against his palm, eyes on the book Eiran held.
"Hurry, Papa!" Eiran patted the unoccupied side of the mattress.
The servant sat carefully beside him, glancing at the pair of father and son. Both exhausted him in different ways. But the only one he didn't feel uneasy around was Eiran.
"Read with me," Eiran insisted, pushing the book into Ren's hands.
Ren exhaled, lowering his gaze to the page. The child clung closer, his small shoulder leaning against him. When he reached to turn the page, another hand brushed his—Zayden's.
Ren stiffened, quickly pulling back.
"I will do it," Zayden said casually, though his gaze lingered on Ren's face.
A flicker of worry ran through him—was he too rough? Had he startled him? He wasn't used to seeing the servant flinch, and the sight of him behaving like this pricked at him more than he expected.
