Zayden’s gaze drifted to the side. Ren stood silently, his expression unreadable. He looked... exhausted—like he might fall asleep standing if no one stopped him.
With a quiet sigh, Zayden rose from his seat and moved to his side. He didn’t touch him, but leaned close enough that his arm could catch him should he stumble.
Ren blinked, startled by the sudden shift of air. When he looked up, Zayden’s face was only inches away—their noses almost brushing. His heart skipped before he could stop it.
"M-My Lord?" His voice came out soft, uncertain.
"What am I going to do with you?" Zayden murmured, exhaling slowly as he withdrew his arm. "Go back to your room and rest."
"I’m alright—"
"Ren, listen to me." Zayden’s tone sharpened before he could stop himself. The thought that he might be the reason for Ren’s weariness made something in his chest tighten.
Ren parted his lips but said nothing. He barely noticed the conversation behind him. Sleep simply wouldn’t come no matter how many times he tossed on the soft mattress. The snow outside fell endlessly, but it wasn’t the cold that kept him awake. Memories from the battlefield flashed in his mind—loud, and full of pain.
He gave a small nod, inclined his head slightly, bowing before he walked out of the room. His faint sound of steps faded into the distance once he closed the glass door behind him.
Zayden returned to his seat, still watching the door long after the servant disappeared.
Soren shifted beside him, eager for the conversation to end, but he knew his brother loved socializing far too much to cut it short.
Enzo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved that Ren had left. He couldn’t bring up what had been weighing on his mind with a stranger present. Zayden and Soren had been his friends since childhood, and he felt comfortable enough to say something everyone would likely call madness.
"I... need your help."
Zayden raised an eyebrow. "My help?"
"Yes." Enzo’s expression remained unreadable, calm but tense. He placed his hands on the cold table, a chill running through his veins, though his posture betrayed nothing. "I want to... break the bond with my husband."
Both Zayden and Soren froze, eyes wide.
Soren’s hands clenched the edge of his coat. "Why would you want that?"
Enzo shook his head slightly, unwilling to answer directly. "Let’s just say... it’s complicated. You can assume I don’t like him. At all."
Zayden leaned back, a smirk curling his lips. "Ah, bored of him because he’s old?"
Enzo’s eyes widened—then, unexpectedly, he nodded. "Yes."
Zayden leaned forward, intrigued, ready to press for more. But Enzo’s gaze was firm, unyielding. He wouldn’t say another word.
Soren sighed, unsure how to react. Both brothers were eager for answers they knew wouldn’t come.
Enzo’s husband was his fated mate. How could he make such a request? And it couldn’t be that he disliked the High Priest, because fated mates were naturally drawn to each other... unless they were marked.
Like Ren...
Zayden’s brows furrowed slightly.
***
The next day passed in the blink of an eye. Winter days were short, the sun barely visible behind the grey clouds before giving way to night. By the time Ren had finished a few tasks, it was already time for lunch, then dinner, then the inevitable approach of sleep.
He had begun to despite night time. Mostly now that Eiran slept alone, no longer throwing a tantrum like when he was younger.
Ren had been keeping a closer eye on Eiran today, since Zayden had been too busy with matters he didn’t know about. Occasionally, when he glanced at the general, he caught glimpses of the man he had seen yesterday—distracted, watchful and somehow still carrying the weight of something unspoken. But the strangest part was how he kept gazing at Zayden.
As he walked down the hallway, Enzo spotted the man who had been following Zayden all day, walking beside Charles.
Ren froze instantly. He looked around—Zayden was nowhere in sight, no longer there to protect him like before. How had he ended up in the wing reserved for the delegation? And what was Charles’ companion doing here?
"My, isn’t that the General’s little...?" Charles chuckled, letting the rest hang in the air. From his mocking tone, it could only mean little pet. He never treated his servants like humans, never gave them the respect of equality.
Ren’s fists clenched. He wanted to kill this man—for all his sins, and for pretending to be a saint in front of everyone in Revhara. Soren had told him the delegation wanted to take orphans, but Ren knew far too well what happened to children on that cursed land they called a paradise for children.
"Do you plan to do as he says?" Ren had asked Soren a few days ago.
"Well... they’ve been taking care of children for centuries, and they’re quite good at it. I don’t see why the Emperor would refuse," Soren had answered without thinking twice.
"Strange," Charles said as he stepped closer, and Ren instinctively stepped back. "You remind me of someone... Every time I see you—" He raised a hand toward Ren’s face but let it hover instead of touching him.
Enzo stepped forward, his jaw tight, fingers curling into a fist. Did Charles really not recognize him? Did it matter? He didn’t know Raniel personally—but Ren was Zayden’s. That was enough. No one would lay a hand on him.
"We should head back to our bedroom," Enzo said firmly, his voice low and controlled. Even if Ren didn’t realize it yet, he would protect him. For Zayden. For the man Zayden loved and cherished—even if it meant shattering himself in the process.
How can someone already broken break even further?
He scoffed inwardly, mocking his own state.
Me, protecting someone?
It would be the first—and perhaps the last—truly great act he had ever achieved. Even as a demon, he lacked real strength. Raised as an omega, the mother of a child destined to inherit a child, trained to be beautiful and seduce alphas—this was his fate in life. Love? That was something he could only dream of. But at least he could take comfort in knowing that Zayden had found it—even if it wasn’t with him.
Charles’ gaze sharpened.
"Shall we?" he asked, voice controlled but simmering with anger.
Enzo knew, without a doubt, that tonight, Charles would make him suffer.
Again.