"Took you a while to fetch a glass of water," Zayden said, his red gaze flicking upward, a grin tugging at his lips.
As always, Ren couldn’t read that expression. Was it amusement? Or anger, veiled in mockery? He could only guess—perhaps he was mad because he took longer, caught up in the conversation he was having with Paul.
"Bring it here," the general ordered, sliding the map aside.
His eyes followed Ren’s every step, as if testing how long Ren would keep his composure under the weight of his stare.
Ren set the glass down in front of him. His fingers brushed the edge of the glass for too long.
"Nervous?" Zayden asked casually, as though it were a harmless question.
Ren’s throat tightened, retracting his hand.
Zayden tilted his head, the grin softening into something almost gentle.
"Good. I’d hate to think I scare you, my closest aide. You’re so competent, after all—bringing this yourself instead of sending someone else unlike my past personal attendants." His tone was smooth, almost kind. But with his eyes burning red, it was impossible to believe it was kindness alone.
Ren lowered his gaze quickly.
Kind? No... it couldn’t be kindness. Not from him. This was the general who had fought on the front lines of war—a merciless, ruthless, blood-soaked man. There was no room for kindness in a heart like his.
Paul, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, stepped forward with the envelope.
"My lord, this letter arrived just now."
Zayden accepted it, but his gaze flicked once more toward Ren’s hand—still resting near his chest. He hadn’t even noticed when it moved there.
The faint scent of orange blossom lingered in the air—surrounding the young man. The suppressants weren’t working as well anymore. Ren’s body had grown numb to the effects.
A smirk formed across Zayden’s lips.
"Careful. If your hands shake during tasks, more than water will spill."
Ren froze. He couldn’t tell if it was a warning, a joke... or if the general had already begun to suspect something far worse.
The air suddenly sharpened—thick with the scent of smoke and iron. Zayden’s alpha pheromones rolled through the room like a wave.
James staggered, choking on the air as his skin flushed hot. His chest heaved, the book in his hands slipping and thudding onto the floor.
"M-My Lord?!" he gasped, clutching at his throat. His instincts screamed, body half-burning with the urge to submit.
"Yes?" Zayden’s voice was even, almost amused. He masked the curl of a smile, though his gaze lingered on Ren.
Ren hadn’t even flinched. Not a flicker of reaction, not a tremor in his hand.
Was he mistaken? Was the faint scent he’d caught from Ren not omega pheromones after all?
"My Lord, please—stop! I-I can’t—" James’s voice cracked. He pressed a sleeve to his nose, desperate not to inhale more.
"Open the windows," Zayden ordered at last. His command cut off the flood of pheromones.
Ren moved immediately, steps quiet, yet expression composed. As he pushed open the windows, cool air drifted inside, carrying relief. He exhaled carefully, lungs almost burning. The general’s pheromones had been too strong—almost suffocating.
But the mark still held, protecting him once again.
His hand brushed over the back of his nape, hidden beneath his cloth. A brief sigh escaped him, relieved.
Zayden leaned his head backwards, gaze trailing Ren’s movements. Still no definite proof of the servant’s second gender as an omega.
Was I mistaken? But the other day—in the garden...
He hesitated, fingers hovering before he finally reached for the envelope resting on the table.
A golden wax seal pressed the flap shut—a letter from the royal palace.
He let out a quiet sigh and opened it.
Inside were details of the crown prince’s engagement, along with a few words from his brother and his mother asking him to visit them and how greatly they missed him.
"It’s been forever since I last saw them..." he murmured.
He hadn’t visited the palace since Eiran’s birth. He simply couldn’t leave the boy behind, even with the most trusted servants.
Even the brief moments he stepped out for work seemed too long. Upon his return, he always made sure to spend time with Eiran. Yet sometimes, it still didn’t feel like enough.
The boy was considerate, attentive—always listening to him. But that meant he was faking it.
A child of his age shouldn’t be so mature already...
Yet whenever Eiran was around Ren, he didn’t hold back his mischief.
Was Zayden doing something wrong?
He looked at Ren, who stood beside James now, patting hack to calm him down. Paul had already left the room, resuming his duties.
A flicker of curiosity—or perhaps suspicion—ran through Zayden.
Why did this servant not even flinch when he released his pheromones? Surely he was an omega. For a moment, he doubted, but now, with the lingering scent still in the air—mixed with James’s wood pheromones—it was undeniable. A perfume would have lost its effect the moment pheromones mixed with it.
And why did he move as if nothing in this world could touch him?
He clenched his fist.
Ren’s hand lingered a moment too long on James’s back, and Zayden felt a subtle pull in his chest—possessiveness. He instantly shook his head, realizing he was watching too closely.
"Attendant," he said quietly, voice low enough that only the boy could hear. "Come here for a moment."
Ren looked up, eyes steady. He walked over, calm, and Zayden couldn’t tell if it was confidence—or restraint.
"Keep James away for now... He might go into heat. Stand guard near his bedroom," Zayden said, his gaze flicking between the two. "And... make sure no one disturbs me until I finish this," he added, waving the letter in his hand.
Ren inclined his head, obedient, quiet as always.
And yet, Zayden’s mind buzzed with questions he didn’t voice.
There’s more to this servant than he shows. Always doing strange things—going to the woods, talking to himself like a madman, saving a child even if it’s by putting himself in danger... I need to do another background check.
He told himself, determined to uncover whatever his attendant might be hiding—or attempting to.
If he is a spy, then undoubtedly, he needs to be eliminated.