The carriage came to an abrupt stop, waking Ren. He blinked, his head resting against something too soft to be the carriage’s walls. He turned, finding Zayden’s head leaning against his.
For a moment, he froze. Although he wanted to push him away, he held back. The General rarely slept so soundly—deep enough not to stir even after a sudden jolt. Ren didn’t want to disturb that rare moment of rest.
Carefully, he lifted Zayden’s head, intending to free himself. But before he could think twice, he guided it down onto his own shoulder instead.
A soft sigh slipped from Zayden’s lips, warm against his skin. It sounded almost... content.
Ren wondered. He was certain he had been holding Eiran, who had fallen asleep leaning against him. Yet when he looked across the seat, he found the child sprawled comfortably, sleeping soundly.
"He would have gotten back pain if he sat this long," Zayden’s low voice cut through the silence, making Ren flinch.
The man’s eyes were half-open, a faint smile curving his lips as he slowly drew his head away—though the reluctance was plain in the hesitation of his movements. He wished he could stay there longer. That was the excuse he told himself.
In truth, he just wanted Ren close, wanted to breathe in his scent until the restlessness inside him stilled.
"If anyone will get back pain, it will be you, My Lord." Ren’s words came out sharper than intended, his lips trembling faintly as he tried not to let his regret show right away.
Zayden forced a laugh, too stunned to find a real answer to that. Ren didn’t know his real age and yet he was saying that.
What will he do when he learns my real age? My poor attendant will have a heart attack.
"Sir, there is a blockage on the road," Aarson said, standing before the window.
Zayden nodded, stepping outside, wrapping his coat tightly around his figure.
The cold wind tore through the falling snow, lashing against his face. He raised his hand to shield himself, though it did little against the storm.
The soldiers had already gathered ahead, lanterns in hand, their shadows swaying against the white ground. A large fallen tree blocked the path, its trunk buried in layers of snow and ice.
"Clear it," Zayden ordered, his voice cutting through the wind.
The men obeyed, axes striking against frozen ground, the faint thuds swallowed by the storm.
Inside the carriage, Ren watched him through the frost-coated window.
Zayden stood rigid in the snow, dark coat whipping violently, hair dusted white with frost. He didn’t flinch against the cold.
To anyone else, he looked like an immovable figure carved from steel. But Ren noticed the way his shoulders rose and fell—not with the storm’s chill, but with something restless gnawing beneath his calm.
Ren pressed his lips together, drawing the curtain shut. His fingers trembled slightly as he clasped them together in his lap.
Why does it feel ... like I am being dragged into his storms? Get full chapters from NoveI-Fire.ɴet
A faint stir pulled him from his thoughts. Eiran shifted in his sleep, mumbling incoherently before curling tighter on the seat. Ren leaned closer, brushing the child’s hair from his face, tucking the fur blanket securely around him.
The door creaked open suddenly, the whiff of cold air making Ren shiver. Zayden stepped back inside, shutting the door behind him. Snowflakes clung to his shoulders and hair, melting into droplets that trailed down his skin as soon as the heat from the carriage stove fell on him. His gaze went first to Eiran, then to Ren—lingering just a moment. He didn’t expect him to remain in the seat.
"The men will clear the road in an hour," he said, lowering himself back into his seat. His tone was calm, but his pheromones betrayed him—thick and restless, filling the small space of the carriage until Ren’s lungs tightened.
Ren clenched his hands against his knees, fighting the urge to react, to keep his composure.
"...You should rest," he muttered.
Zayden’s lips curved faintly, but there was no humor in his smile. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on Ren.
"I did. You were a surprisingly comfortable pillow."
Ren’s heart skipped, though his face remained carefully still.
"...Do not joke like that, My Lord."
Zayden tilted his head, studying him in silence. His voice, whenever he spoke, was softer than the storm outside.
"Who said I was joking?"
Ren’s gaze shifted toward the window before he locked again with the General.
"Are you not always joking?"
Zayden simply smiled. He couldn’t argue with that. Although his purpose was to make Ren react. And he had been doing so lately.
"I want to see you smile but you never do. What can I, a mere general, do apart from making silky jests?"
He wished to say but kept quiet.
For the remaining hour, Zayden stared at Ren as if studying his entire existence. There was still something about him that kept him on guard. But his heart had long betrayed his mind, craving, yearning for him.
"Sir, the road has been cleared!" Helain announced.
Briefly after, the carriage began rolling on the snowy road again.
"You never spoke about yourself," Zayden finally broke the silence.
"... They are not alive."
"O-Oh..." Zayden managed to say. He didn’t expect this answer. Although now, it made sense. Ren never caused trouble by sending money back home. He assumed the servant had broken off ties with his family. Not that they were... dead.
Ren’s eyes widened upon hearing the question. He quickly turned, afraid Zagden caught a glimpse of the expression on his face. He clenched his jaw, fidgeting with his hands. How did his parents die? It was a story he had only been told. But he no longer believes those who spouted only lies to him.
Maybe they didn’t die because of me. They were lying. Like all the other lies they said. Like... Omegas are only good for breeding. Nothing else.
He reassured himself, swallowing hard.
Zayden narrowed his eyes, analyzing him. He was... nervous. Or rather afraid. But why? To tell him the truth? He wasn’t scared to reveal he was an omega a few days ago.
A marked one at that...