"So? Why did you send him away?"

Zayden sat where Ren had been sitting until now, turning toward his brother.

"No reason."

A brief silence followed before Zayden asked, "How did things go with Crown Prince Rihaan?"

Soren shrugged.

"The Emperor sent me away as if he were his son and not me," he scoffed, though his gaze lowered slightly.

He needed to be there to know what they had discussed. After all, he needed to know if Crown Prince Rihaan had changed his mind about their marriage.

"But how did your date with Ren go?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"A date?.." A hint of red colored Zayden’s cheeks as he tried to hide them behind his forearm.

"Ha ha ha, I never thought I would live long enough to see my little brother blushing," Soren chuckled, teasing him as he took a sip of his tea.

"I don’t know... but I think there has been a lot of progress. He talks to me, tells me his opinion. And jokes! Can you believe?"

The red-haired man hummed.

"Good, good. Then you shouldn’t wait any longer. Tell him how you feel."

Zayden’s arm dropped to his side immediately. He blinked, as if he hadn’t heard right.

"C-Confess?" he stammered, even though the thought had crossed his mind countless times. How could he, when he wasn’t even sure if Ren felt the same?

"Yes," Soren rose from his seat, setting his teacup on the table with a faint thud. "The hunting festival will take place soon. I suggest you gift him the best prey you catch and confess."

Zayden scowled.

"Will he even like that?"

"You will never know unless you try, my dear brother." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"You speak as if you have a loooot of experience," Zayden grumbled under his breath, hoping Soren didn’t hear him.

However, they both carried demon blood—even if Soren’s demonic genes weren’t as dominant as Zayden’s. Yet, as the elder brother, he chose to ignore his brother’s remark.

"Where are you going?" Zayden asked when Soren turned his heels.

"I don’t fancy bothering a happy family," he said, a soft and quiet chuckle escaping his mouth while he exited the room.

Zayden remained seated at the chair for a moment before rising on his feet. Even from this distance, he could hear the conversation Eiran and Ren were having. The child had finally asked the question he, also, had been eager to hear.

Quietly, he stepped closer.

"I want you to tell me about my real dad." Eiran said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ren froze, his breath catching in his throat. The queen chess piece slipped from his fingers, clattering against the board.

"W-What?"

"I know that Zayden Dad isn’t related to me by blood. But you are."

The servant’s fingers curled into a weak fist. He wasn’t prepared for this.

Zayden waited for the answer although he doubted Ren would reveal it.

"Papa... tell me. Did he hurt you? Is that why you left him? Or did he abandon you?" Eiran’s voice trembled despite his effort to sound composed. "I’m old enough now. I’m not a child, you know."

The child tried to hide turmoil visible in his wavering eyes while his lips trembled. He wanted to know the truth—he needed to—but the way his father suddenly fell silent sent chills down his spine.

Was this fear?

The way his chest tightened was worse than when he was abducted by those men dressed in black. He often told himself it was alright if his father was a coward who didn’t want to acknowledge his Papa and him. But if he were a bastard... then wouldn’t that mean looking at him hurt his Papa every time? That every glance was a reminder of that man—the one who caused him pain?

Even without turning around, Ren felt it—the pheromones, the presence behind him.

Zayden.

He had always been sensitive to the presence of others; he’d been forced to be. Sometimes, he would close his eyes just to escape the sight of those faint strings and outlines that appeared around people. At times, the darkness felt safer than the strange things he saw.

Perhaps that was why his other senses had sharpened so much.

Even so, he closed his eyes, his breath unsteady. It’s alright. Zayden could know at least this much.

I’m sure he’ll understand me... a little better when I tell him about the Temple.

He nodded faintly, almost convincing himself.

Zayden waved a hand at the nearby servants. They shouldn’t be here. Even by accident, they shouldn’t hear a word of what was about to be said.

"My Lord."

The voice was faint—barely audible—but it still made Zayden flinch.

How did he know I was behind him...?

Though curious, Zayden stepped closer to the table, leaning slightly.

"Yes?"

Ren looked up, his gaze steady. "You must be curious too, right?"

"I was not trying to eavesdrop," Zayden said quickly, almost defensively. He couldn’t afford to get on Ren’s bad side.

"It’s alright," Ren replied quietly. "I think... since everyone believes we are a family, you both deserve to know the truth."

He wasn’t planning to reveal everything—not yet. He simply needed to tell them how Ilyan died.

No need for details, he reminded himself.

"Eiran," he said softly.

The boy straightened at the sound of his name, giving his father a small, obedient nod.

"There were people who didn’t want your father and me to be together," Ren began. "They chased us. And when we finally thought we were safe, they ambushed us... and killed your father." His voice trembled. "But he was amazing—so strong—that even as he took his last breath, he still protected us."

Ren’s arms felt weak as the memories came rushing back.

It was a nightmare.

The worst night he had ever lived through.

Eiran’s eyes widened. He had never seen his father like this—so fragile, so vulnerable. The man who always smiled through pain now looked as though even breathing hurt.

"Papa..." Eiran whispered, his voice trembling.

Ren blinked rapidly, forcing a small smile, though his eyes glistened. "It’s alright. It was... a long time ago."

A long time ago?

It’s been merely five years.

Zayden remained silent, his expression unreadable. He wanted to ask: Who did that to you? But he held back. He wanted reach out—to offer something, anything—but the sorrow in Ren’s eyes held him back. There was something too raw in them, something sacred he didn’t dare disturb.

The room fell quiet, the faint clatter of a chess piece slipping from Eiran’s hand and rolling across the marble floor. He knew his Papa didn’t tell him the entire truth. However, he knew he had to wait for a detailed answer.