"Try it," Zayden said, his voice tender.
"W-What?" Ren stammered, startled.
He had not expected Zayden to be serious—least of all to ask him to call him by his name right here, in the middle of the forest.
He really meant it?!
He agreed on an impulse. The thought of being able to break rules stirred something within him but now... He didn’t know anymore. Still, it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t tempted. It would be a first experience for him.
Calling a nobleman by his name.
Zayden stepped just a little closer, lowering his tone so only Ren could hear—as if the tall trees surrounding them might eavesdrop if he spoke any louder.
"I want you to call me... Zayden. Just me. No titles, no respect weighing you down. I don’t care about rank, birth, or anything else. And you know that, right? I just want you, speaking to me as equals—as friends."
Ren’s breath hitched. The warmth in Zayden’s eyes, the gentle sincerity behind them, stripped away every shadow of fear or inferiority he had carried all his life.
And once again, he felt as if he could trust those words completely. Did Zayden have some power to bewitch people? Because if he did, Ren was already hopelessly captured.
After all, for a man who had lost trust in living beings, he had too much faith in this man’s words. Maybe it was because Zayden had proved himself a few times already that he truly, genuinely, cared for Ren.
Slowly, he nodded.
"Z-Zayden..." he whispered, the name feeling strange on his tongue.
When he heard Enzo say it, or Soren, it hadn’t felt so odd. Was it because he was a commoner? That such a name, so special, shouldn’t have been uttered by his filthy mouth?
Zayden’s breath caught in his throat upon hearing his name from Ren’s mouth. The soft, slightly deep sound made his chest race, echoing in his ears.
His cheeks burned, as if he had been plunged into ice and then set before a roaring fire immediately. It once happened to him, when he was younger and to this day, he has never felt the same twice. Not until now.
"M-My Lord?" Ren blinked, watching the deepening red on Zayden’s face. "I-I’m sorry... it probably didn’t sound right..."
Zayden shook his head, forcing a softer, tender smile.
"No! That’s perfect," he said, his voice warm. "Exactly like that. Not difficult at all. Don’t say it didn’t sound right—hearing you say my name... I think I like it more than ever."
Even as he spoke, his chest felt ready to burst.
He couldn’t even insist on correcting Ren, telling him to say his name again. If he heard it once more, he wasn’t sure he would make it through the rest of the hunt. After all, there were still so many steps left before he could finally confess.
***
Enzo was seated on a chair, far from the Emperor’s throne and where the Empress and Queen sat. He wanted to keep a low profile until the divorce trial was held. He couldn’t afford to attract any unnecessary attention from the nobles.
And thankfully, everyone was occupied in their own interests to pay him any attention. Otherwise, they would be ready to bite him raw at any given time. Just like in the past.
He was never anyone’s favourite, not even his father’s. Having a mother who had died right after giving birth to him, his life was no less like the novels he often read to pass the time when he was younger.
Yet, never in his wildest dreams did he think he would get married to such a cruel alpha. That his fated mate would not treat him like the main characters in those novels—lovingly, tenderly—as if he were the most precious being to ever exist.
And there were times when he laughed at himself for even thinking like that.
How naive.
He scoffed inwardly, his lips curling into a soft smile.
Just then, he noticed a pair of familiar boots standing before him. When he looked up, Charles was there. He didn’t look pleased at all.
"What makes my bride smile so brightly?" he asked, eyes closing slightly as he grinned.
Enzo shifted backward, only for his back to hit the chair harshly.
"I really don’t like it when you don’t answer me," Charles said, lifting his hand. Enzo’s hands instinctively flew in front of his face, shielding himself in case he were struck. His body trembled, but no one noticed.
Everyone’s gaze was focused on the circus unfolding. Enzo barely watched it early, too lost in his thoughts. Far too excited to finally obtain his freedom. However, now that Charles’ tall figure towered over him, he shook like a dying leaf on a dead tree branch.
"Hah..." the elderly man sighed, clicking his tongue as if disappointed. "Why are you behaving as if I mistreat you?"
Barely able to regain his composure, Enzo dropped his hands on his thighs, fingers curling tightly. If he didn’t behave properly, then it would only get worse once they returned to the palace.
Surely, the trial wouldn’t be held right after the hunting festival. It would take at least a few weeks for the Emperor to receive the paperwork, and for him to arrange a meeting. Even a month.
Charles sat on the chair beside him, fingers brushing through Enzo’s hair—a practiced, deliberate motion. Something he had done countless times before, during their so-called intimate moments.
Enzo closed his eyes tightly. Even in these rare moments of apparent kindness, his heart betrayed him, racing uncontrollably.
Sometimes he blamed it on the pheromones, other times on the mark on his neck. Yet deeper than that, a darker thought lingered: had he fallen victim to Charles’ twisted mind beyond any hope of cure?
He knew it was wrong. He knew it should make him angry, repulsed—but he couldn’t fight it. He was strong—he was a demon. So hadn’t he simply killed him?
Because he had once been kind to him? For... a few years?
However, it didn’t matter. He knew what he wanted was freedom from this cursed bond.
A mistake his father made, but he had to be the one to fix it.