Sitting in the dining room, no one spoke a word. Eiran and Ren had arrived shortly after Zayden ordered the servants to prepare the luggage, as he would leave soon.
Helain had returned outside, waiting for the General along with the other soldiers.
"My lord, we have prepared the luggage as you asked," Paul said as he entered the room, bowing.
Zayden gave him a curt nod, dismissing him.
Ren, sitting across from Zayden, narrowed his gaze.
"Are you going somewhere?"
He asked, though he already knew the answer.
The dining room thickened with his pheromones. Most servants were betas or already marked, unable to sense it. But Ren felt it trail through the air, heavy and sweet like an intoxicating musk.
"Yes." Zayden’s reply was brief.
Ren chewed the meat in his mouth before continuing.
"On such short notice?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Hianshu sent a delegation. The Emperor wants me there."
Ren’s eyes flicked toward Eiran, then back to Zayden.
"But it is not necessary for you to bring Eiran, is it?"
Zayden raised his glass, but paused at Ren’s words. A snort left his lips.
"So, you knew what was going on."
Ren averted his gaze without answering.
"Do you not want me to bring our son?"
The servant jolted upright, eyes wide.
"Our son?!" he burst out, brows furrowed.
Zayden tilted his head, confused at Ren’s reaction. He had joked before—though this time was different.
"I mean, he calls both of us father," Zayden said, narrowing his eyes as if to read Ren’s thoughts.
Ren sank back into his chair, coughing to clear his throat.
"I was just startled. You never said that before..."
It was a lie. He simply didn’t like the thought of Eiran being called their son. That wasn’t true. But with all the lies he had already spoken, even if he said the truth now, it would sound hollow.
The grip around his fork tightened while Zayden glanced at Eiran.
"I cannot help it. The Emperor wishes to see his grandson," he said, smiling at the child, though his mind spiraled with possibilities of why Ren reacted that way. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novel⟡fire.net
Was it because Ren couldn’t bear the thought of having a child with him? Would he rather carry his mate’s child?
Even if he had a sip of sweet juice, a sour taste filled his mouth. His pheromones thickened, spreading until the air itself felt heavy.
Ren’s hand trembled slightly as he set his fork down, careful not to make a sound. His throat tightened, but he kept his expression calm.
"...Then you should take him."
Zayden’s gaze snapped back to Ren, sharper than earlier, holding himself back.
"Agreed so easily? For someone who always insists he does not care... You sound almost relieved."
Ren forced a faint, polite smile, his lips twitching as if it cost him more than fighting a war. Relieved? If anything, he was anxious.
"I simply do not see the need for me to object. He is... your son after all."
The words were soft, yet each one pierced his chest like glass.
Zayden leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. His pheromones pressed harder, testing, suffocating.
He wanted Ren to flinch, maybe fall on his knees because he was affected by his scent, unable to breathe. Perhaps Ren’s mate didn’t have that much of a strong influence on him. But that was his wishful thinking. He didn’t react, and Zayden’s heart dropped.
Did he not stand a chance, at all?
"And here I thought you wanted to take good care of him from now on. Remember what you told me the next day when we brought Eiran back to the mansion five years ago?"
Ren’s chest tightened.
How could he forget that?
When Eiran was still deep asleep at dawn, Ren awoke Zayden. He sat on the floor, close to the edge of the mattress where Zayden slept.
He gently placed his hand on the General’s shoulder, patting it to wake him.
Zayden narrowed his gaze, too shocked to ask anything.
However, he knew very well that Ren couldn’t say a word.
"What is it? Did you need something?" he asked, voice still hoarse. He coughed softly, clearing his throat right away.
"Well... Is it all right with you if I stay with Eiran?"
Zayden arched an eyebrow.
"What do you mean? Are you not going to be my personal attendant anymore?" His chest tightened. Just when he had realized his feelings, Ren wanted to part from him?
Hearing that, Zayden’s worries eased. Briefly.
"I want to... I want Eiran to have a schedule that suits ours. That way we can always come to the mansion and spend time with him."
Zayden chuckled, confusing Ren.
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, blinking.
The General shook his head.
"No. You just simply are... adorable."
"What are you thinking about?"
Ren blinked, snapping back to reality. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He wanted to say no.
He wanted to snatch Eiran away and never let the child leave his side. But if he did that, his son would never know peace. Nor freedom. Just like him. And he would never make his child go through what he went through.
So he lowered his gaze instead.
"You truly believe you are always right, My Lord."
Zayden’s lips curved into a cold smirk, though his eyes told another story—restless, almost wounded.
Eiran shifted uncomfortably, looking between them with wide eyes. The silence stretched, filled only by the low clink of silver against ceramic plates.
Finally, Zayden pushed his chair back with a sharp scrape.
"Pack Ren’s things too," he ordered, his voice sharp. "We’re leaving right now."
Ren’s knuckles turned white around the edge of the table, but he said nothing. He wanted to refuse. However, this turned out for the better. This way, he could remain by Eiran’s side and protect him in case anyone from Hianshu recognized him.
What if they recognize me?...
I just need to stay away from the delegation.
He nodded in agreement with himself although he knew the risks that might come with this decision.