It didn’t take long for Zayden to realize he was in love, though he wished it weren’t true. In three hundred years, he had felt this before.
But never for a human.
And certainly never for a servant.
The feelings had begun much earlier, though he only recognized them when they rode the same horse side by side. Even in the midst of unease, it was Ren who eased him. Not with pheromones, but with his very presence. Hence, it was certainly not because of the physical attraction an alpha could feel for an omega.
"My Lord." Hannah’s cough broke his thoughts, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Zayden stood on the second floor, gazing down at Ren and Eiran seated on the grass, surrounded by fallen orange and brown autumn leaves.
"Yes?" He turned his head toward her.
"I believe you should not keep it to yourself."
He frowned lightly, unsure if she meant to tease or advise.
"You love him, do you not?" she asked.
For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes lingered on Ren once more. The truth was written in the way his chest ached just watching him laugh with the man.
His palm pressed against the cool glass, as though he could bridge the distance between them. As if he could brush his hand against Ren’s skin and feel its warmth.
Finally, he spoke—his voice softer than he intended.
"Some things are not meant to be spoken aloud."
Hannah tilted her head, recognizing that as the closest thing to an answer she would get.
"I hope you find happiness too, My Lord," she simply said, not pressing further. After all, his silence already said enough.
"I will take my leave," she bowed, exiting the hall. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novelFɪre.net
Zayden slumped into the chair, leaning his head back.
Now that he knew he had feelings for Ren, how was he supposed to approach it? He didn’t know much about him yet, let alone the reason he hid his second gender. He had even sent a letter to Zion, asking him to investigate further, but no word had returned.
And still, his gaze wandered to Ren, unbidden, warm and gentle—a look he hadn’t given anyone in decades.
Below, Eiran was sketching him, tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth, while Ren sat awkwardly, trying to hold a pose. The sight pulled a low laugh from Zayden before softening into a quiet grin.
Perhaps Ren would be perfect as a partner. Eiran already looked at him as a father.
"There wouldn’t be much issue..." he murmured, almost to himself.
For a long time, his gaze lingered on the silver-haired man.
The way Ren tilted his head, patiently indulging Eiran, the quiet curve of his smile—it was a picture of simplicity, of peace. Something Zayden hadn’t thought he deserved. Not after the wars, the blood, the years spent hardening his heart.
And yet, a thought stirred. What if this warmth could last? What if his nights no longer felt so long, because Ren was there beside him?
The idea unsettled him as much as it soothed him. Love, to Zayden, had always been fleeting—a flame that burned, then extinguished just as quickly.
Yet as he watched Ren, he felt as though he had stumbled on something different. Something that could root itself quietly in the silence, refusing to be shaken. The answer, he realized, was Ren.
He swallowed hard. Was he allowed to be by this man’s side?
Servants stood around the long dining table, polished wood reflecting the light of the chandeliers above.
Numerous plates filled with steaming dishes—roasted meat, seasoned vegetables, fresh bread and bowls with fruits, were neatly arranged.
The silver cutlery caught the glow of the hall. Crystal goblets stood untouched, the air filled with the faint scent of wine and spice.
At the head of the table sat the Emperor, straight-backed and composed. His red hair framed his face, his crimson eyes lingering on the Empress who sat beside him.
She smiled at her husband, while her son, Soren, occupied the seat across from her—the place reserved for the Crown Prince. Her posture was flawless, long earrings swaying lightly against her cheeks, while her braided dark-blue hair rested neatly over her shoulder.
"Your Imperial Highness, a letter has arrived for you," a servant, who rushed inside, bowed, extending the parchment toward Soren.
The red-haired young man turned toward the man.
"What is this insolence? Do you not see that the Imperial Crown Prince is eating?" The Empress roared. It irked her when anyone disturbed her meals.
"Mother." Soren placed the fork on the plate, wiping his mouth with the handkerchief.
Then, he extended his hand and the servant placed the letter in his palm.
"I am the one who asked them to bring me anything that seemed urgent."
His gaze fell on the seal, and his eyebrows drew into a sharp frown.
"What is it, Soren?" the Emperor asked from the other side of the table.
The Imperial Crown Prince turned to the servants, dismissing them.
They all bowed, exiting the dining hall immediately.
"What is it for you to send every servant away?" the Emperor chuckled.
"...A letter from the temple of Hianshu. They say they will come for a delegation."
"What nonsense!" The Empress slammed his fist on the table, the plates chattering against one another.
The Empress placed her hand on his, calming him down.
"And when is that?" she asked.
His expression grim, Soren answered, "...They said soon."
"They claim it is to maintain peace," Soren replied, his voice low. "But they did not elaborate on the reason. Only a few High Priests will attend."
The Emperor scoffed as he heard Soren’s answer.
"Maintaining peace... Of course," he mumbled, not trusting the possibility.
The Empress narrowed her eyes.
"I do not trust these people, Your Imperial Majesty," she said, turning toward the Emperor.
"I do not either, Mother," Soren added. "However, we do not have a choice but to let them. We cannot have another war break out because of this—the very war that took us decades to end."
"He is right... Even our people might doubt us if we cause another war. Every knight is exhausted from the recent one," the Emperor sighed.
"Are you both telling me that we should let them in our territory?! What if they are coming with ulterior motives?"
"Then we will handle them, Mother."
"...I am not so sure. We almost lost because of that man, that High Priest of theirs," the Emperor grumbled.
"Why one?" Soren arched an eyebrow. They surprisingly had countless High Priests.
"You know... the one with the blindfold," the Empress stated, inhaling deeply before continuing. "Apparently there were some posters of him almost a year ago."
"Did you see it?" she turned to her husband and her son.
The Emperor shook his head, his teeth clenched.
"Unfortunately. I would have loved to meet the bastard who killed so many soldiers..." he grumbled under his breath, loud enough for the other two to hear.