Ren's throat tightened as Julian's words hung in the air.
The Royal Hunt.
To the nobles, it was a display of glory and strength but to a Null, like himself, it was a death match.
Cian's hand didn't move from Ren's neck. He leaned back against the headboard, pulling Ren with him until Ren was forced to brace his hands against the edge of the mattress.
The Prince's skin was still humming with that newfound peace, but his eyes remained as cold as snow.
"Get the basin, 4092," Cian commanded with a detached tone.
"The rest of you, get out. I don't recall inviting the Council of Peers to watch me dress."
Julian let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his chest and the back of the other to his forehead.
"So cruel, Cian. And after I brought you tea." He turned to Ren, his emerald eyes flashing with a silent warning.
"Don't forget what we discussed, little bird. I'll be seeing you very soon."
Kael gave a single, sharp nod toward the Prince, his charcoal cloak swirling as he turned to follow Julian out. The heavy oak doors thudded shut, leaving Ren alone with the man who had nearly choked the life out of him hours ago.
Ren moved quickly, his joints stiff from the floor. He fetched the silver basin and the warmed water from the side room that led to a bathroom, his hands trembling so much the water sloshed over the rim. When he returned, Cian was standing by the window, staring out at the Academy grounds.
"Strip that uniform off," Cian said without turning around.
Ren froze, the basin slipping an inch in his grip. "Your Highness?"
"It's covered in your blood and dust from the floor," Cian said, finally turning. He looked at Ren with a strange, unreadable intensity.
"Do you think I want my attendant looking like a common beggar? Take it off. There are fresh silks in the wardrobe."
Ren set the basin down and began to unbutton the midnight-blue tunic. His fingers felt like lead.
As the fabric fell away, the bruises on his collarbone and the lingering marks from the Sages' audit were laid bare. He wasn't fully naked, he still had his underwear on, but he felt exposed, not just physically, but as if the Prince could see the silver threads weaving through soul.
Cian stepped closer, picking up a soft cloth and dipping it into the warm water. Ren flinched visibly as the Prince simply reached out and wiped a smudge of dried blood from Ren's cheek.
The touch was impersonal, the way one might clean a smudge off a mirror, yet the proximity made Ren's void core react. It wanted to reach out. It wanted to harvest more of that white-gold heat.
"You're shaking," Cian noted, his voice low.
"I'm... I'm just cold, sir," Ren lied.
"You're a liar," Cian countered, his hand moving down to Ren's chest, right over his heart. He could feel the frantic rhythm beneath the ribs.
"But you're a useful one. Last night... that feeling… If you can replicate that during the Hunt, I might consider shortening your contract by a year."
Ren's heart leaped.
'A year? To be free of this tower a year early?'
It was the first bit of hope he'd been offered.
"I will try, Your Highness," Ren whispered.
"Don't just try. Do it," Cian said, dropping the cloth back into the basin.
"Now, dress me. We have a strategy meeting with the High Sages, and I want them to see exactly how well-tempered my new tool has become."
For the next hour, Ren played the role of the perfect servant. He helped Cian into his riding leathers and his silver-edged cloak, his fingers working the buckles with mechanical precision. While he was still in his underwear.
He ignored the way the silver stitch in his palm burned every time he touched the Prince's skin. He ignored the way Cian watched his every move in the mirror, like a hawk watching a mouse. He got a new uniform from the wardrobe for himself.
He made sure everything the prince needed was ready and in twenty minutes time they left the suite.
As they walked down the hallway, with Ren two steps behind, he felt the eyes of the other residents of the North Tower on him.
The guards, the other noble students, even the Bound-Silents—everyone had felt the spike last night. And everyone saw that Ren was still standing.
Whispers were already forming.
They reached the Grand Hall where Julian and Kael were waiting. Julian was leaning against a statue, his emerald robes catching the morning light. Kael stood like a pillar of stone, his hand resting on the hilt of his massive blade.
As they walked toward the center of the Academy, Julian fell into step beside Ren.
"A year off the contract, was it?" Julian whispered, his voice so low only Ren could hear.
"Cian is generous with his promises when he's well-fed. But remember, Ren... a Weaver who can't control his threads eventually ends up as a shroud."
Ren didn't look at him. He didn't dare. He just kept his eyes on the back of Cian's golden head.
This just confirmed the fact the Julian knew… though how he knew Ren couldn't tell because he was sure Julian didn't follow him that night. And also how did he know about what Cian had said in the room just now behind close door? He'd have to stick to the prince's instruction and stay away from him. Maybe even stay closer to the prince himself.
Not like he had much of a choice…
He was bound. Bound to the Prince's hunger, bound to Julian's games, and bound to a power that was slowly turning him into something the world feared.
As the sun rose higher and they walked deeper into the castle, Ren realized the Hunt had already begun since. And he was the one being hunted.
He was the prized to be hunted.