For some reason, Ren hadn’t spoken to Zayden all day. It was as if he had retreated behind the same cold wall that once separated them—polite, distant, unreadable. He still performed his duties flawlessly, tending to Eiran and him, handling their meals and clothes, making sure everything ran smoothly. Yet, Zayden could tell something was wrong.
Every word Ren uttered was curt—every fleeting glance.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t talk.
Surely, something must have happened for him to act this way. But what?
Zayden couldn’t bring himself to ask at dinner—not with Eiran there, joyfully chatting about the day’s adventures. The boy had adapted far better to palace life than either of them expected. But Zayden’s thoughts remained elsewhere, tangled in confusion and unease.
Once dinner ended, he sent a maid to summon Ren to his chambers.
Now, alone, he paced restlessly across the room, biting the tip of his thumb as anxious thoughts consumed him.
What if all their progress—everything he had built between them—was falling apart again?
He couldn’t let that happen!
Hearing the knock on the door, Zayden dashed to open it. When he opened it, standing before him was Ren—his hair still damp, his breath slightly uneven.
Did he rush here?
"Did you call for me?" Ren asked, his voice cold enough to send chills down Zayden’s spine.
The General’s chest tightened, his fingers curling into tight fists. He despised this distance more than anything. If he could do something—anything—to bring back the warmth from last night, when Ren held him close and cared for him, he would do it without a second thought.
"Come in," he said quietly, stepping aside to let him in.
Ren nodded, entering the room with quiet steps. His gaze darted across the room, a frown forming on his face as he remembered that Enzo had been here this morning too. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stand the thought of that man staying in Zayden’s room for over three hours.
What could they have possibly talked about for that long?
All day, he replayed the possibilities in his mind, over and over, yet not one made sense. Then it struck him—Zayden’s rut was near. In fact, it was supposed to be today.
His chest tightened.
Did something... happen between them?
It wasn’t as if Zayden was the type to restrain himself. If an omega was within reach, why wouldn’t he take what he needed?
Just not Ren.
Never him.
Even when Ren was in heat—suffering, burning—Zayden hadn’t touched him.
Not once.
Was he simply... not attracted to him?
Ren bit his lip, cursing himself for even thinking that way.
Why would it matter? Why would he care if Zayden sought comfort in another’s arms, as long as it wasn’t his?
And yet, no matter how he tried to bury those thoughts, they bit under his skin.
All day, he barely heard a word Zayden or Eiran said, trapped in his own silent storm.
So when a servant came to summon him to the General’s chambers, his heart skipped—just once—but enough to make him realize how much power that man held over him.
Zayden closed the door behind him. He had taken his suppressants—thrice the dose—just so he wouldn’t go into rut in Ren’s presence. Sometimes, fated mates could trigger each other’s ruts or heats, especially if their cycles were near.
"Sit," he said, the tremor in his voice barely controlled.
Ren glanced at the couch, then turned on his heel and sat on Zayden’s bed instead. He didn’t know why he was behaving so childishly, but he simply didn’t want to sit where he and Enzo could have... He grimaced at the thought alone, a bitter taste rising in his mouth.
He examined the room as if he were from the Royal Tax Department. The room was clean—no trace of his insane thoughts. But there were two possibilities: Zayden had someone clean it, or nothing he was thinking about had happened.
Zayden moved to stand across from him, unsure where to begin.
"I didn’t expect you to come so quickly," he said finally, keeping his voice as soft as he could.
"You called," Ren replied, eyes still scanning the desk as though the answers to his thoughts might be written there.
"I did," Zayden admitted. "Because I couldn’t ignore the way you have been avoiding me all day."
Ren’s hands tightened on his knees.
"Avoiding you? Why would I? I was simply doing my work."
"That is not true, and you know it," Zayden’s voice was calm, but something inside it—something quietly pained—made Ren freeze.
The servant finally looked up, meeting his gaze.
"Then... What do you want me to do?"
"That you stop pretending nothing is wrong," Zayden said, stepping closer. "If I did something to upset you, tell me. I would rather hear it from you than guess. Do you know how..." he let out a quiet breath. "How crazy this is driving me? Everything was fine this morning."
Ren hesitated. The words he wanted to say—You spent three hours alone with Enzo. What did you do? Just talk or...—burned at the back of his throat. However, he bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the words.
It wasn’t his place to ask.
He wasn’t his lover or anything.
Zayden sighed softly. "Ren... I am not good at this, but I can tell when you’re hurt."
"I am not hurt," Ren forced a smile, but the tremor in his voice gave it away.
"Yes, you are," Zayden said quietly. "You always say you are not, and yet your eyes tell me otherwise."
Ren looked away, jaw tightening. The gentleness in Zayden’s tone made his chest ache in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.
After a pause, Zayden added, "Enzo and I only discussed the hunting routes. Nothing else. In case you probably thought otherwise."
Ren blinked, startled by how directly he said it.
"I did not—" he frowned defensively. How did Zayden know? Was he so easy to read? He made sure to keep a neutral expression on his face...
So how?