Loti paced up and down the hall restlessly. It had already been a few days since she last saw Raniel, and there was still no news of him. She’d heard that the General and his servant—Raniel—hadn’t returned to the palace during the snowstorm. Upon hearing that, she hadn’t been able to rest.
Although she knew she shouldn’t have, she snuck into Ren’s room, followed by Henry, who refused to let her get into trouble alone.
When they heard faint footsteps approaching from the corridor, they quickly hid behind the large wooden canopy of the bed, where the frame was tall and wide enough to conceal them completely
The door swung open and Ren entered. As soon as the air came to him, he sensed the faint smell of familiar pheromones. Even so, he cautiously closed the door behind him, making sure no one entered after him.
"Loti? Henry?" He said, voice low almost like a whisper.
The couple sprang to their feet, looking at him with guilty smiles.
"R-Raniel," Loti stammered while Henry stood beside her, arms crossed, shaking his head in disapproval.
"You know her. I told her not to come but she didn’t listen."
Ren sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We could get caught if you come here like this—especially in broad daylight!"
Loti pouted, lowering her gaze. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright... Everyone’s saying you didn’t come back with the General after the storm."
Henry groaned quietly. "And she wouldn’t stop pacing until we came."
Ren’s expression softened, though he tried to keep his tone stern. "You two are going to get yourselves in trouble one day."
"Only if we get caught," Loti muttered under her breath, earning a glare from Henry and a sigh from Ren.
"You behave like you’re twenty-four years old!" Henry shook his head.
Loti turned, glaring at him.
"Did you just... talk about my age?" She forced a grin, trying to suppress the fury rising within her.
"I-I did not," Henry coughed, clearing his throat before quickly shifting his gaze toward Ren.
"Also, you haven’t crossed paths with High Priest Charles yet, right?"
Ren froze for a moment. He had met him in the hallway—and the elderly man had commented on how much he resembled someone he once knew. It was obvious to Ren that he had been referring to him, back when he was in the Temple.
"Did you?" Loti asked, raising her eyebrows, impatient for an answer.
Ren gave a slight nod, his heart racing. Did the priest mention him to others? Did he find out?
"Great. It seems he didn’t recognize you, since he hasn’t brought you up until now. He’s been talking about the hunting festival," Loti said with a grin.
"Hunting festival?" Ren tilted his head slightly.
He had heard about it, but Zayden had never come to the capital to participate, even though he received invitations every year.
Ren knew about it only because he was always the one tasked with disposing of the letters meant to be burned. Back then, he hadn’t bothered to question it—he never planned to come to the capital anyway.
"Is he planning something for the festival?" He asked, his voice steady and controlled.
"A scheme? No," Loti scoffed. "He was just lecturing us not to get too close to the prey, saying our clothes might get dirty." She crossed her arms, her lips curling in disdain. "Although his own hands are already stained red..."
"Loti," Henry interrupted sharply, his tone carrying a warning.
She glanced at him but didn’t apologize—her defiance flickered briefly before fading under his disapproving gaze.
Ren watched them quietly, his expression unreadable. He knew exactly what they meant. He had met countless so-called High Priests before, and their hands had all been stained with blood. Just like his.
A chill ran down his spine. The memories flooded back—like a river breaking free after a long, frozen winter.
"Ren?" Loti’s voice pulled him back to the present.
He looked up, his composure restored, as if those memories had never surfaced at all.
"It’s nothing," he said softly. "You two should leave before someone notices you’re here."
Loti hesitated, clearly reluctant, but Henry took her hand, bowing his head slightly.
"Be careful, alright?"
Ren nodded, forcing a faint smile as he watched them leave.
Once the door shut, the room fell quiet—too quiet. The silence pressed against his chest, heavy and suffocating.
Just moments ago, he had told Eiran and Zayden about Ilyan’s death. But he had left out the most important part.
The Temple had been involved.
***
Rihaan stared at the letter in his hands, the seal of the Emperor, golden with the pattern of a rose, glinting in the candlelight. It was an invitation to the hunting festival, scheduled for two weeks from now.
He groaned, dropping the letter onto the desk. He didn’t want to go—not at all. But the Emperor had personally spoken to him about the marriage when he was brought to the royal palace forcefully by Soren, leaving no room for refusal. Even though his kingdom was strong—the land where beastmen resided—wealthy, defying the Emperor could bring disaster.
"Father will kill me if he comes to know I asked this marriage to be cancelled," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Since he wasn’t in a position to cancel it himself, he requested Soren to step in five years ago. After all, that man knew about his lover—an omega waiting back in his own kingdom.
So why hadn’t he just cancelled it? Why let Rihaan bear this burden alone?
He sighed, sinking into the chair, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. The hunting festival was meant to be a celebration, but for him, it felt like a trap. A reminder of the marriage he did not want, of a duty he could not escape.
Still, he knew he had no choice. He would attend—masking his resentment behind a polite smile and obedient nods—but inside, every step toward that festival coiled his nerves.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, clasping his face in his palms.