Zayden sat in the garden pavilion. Although it was winter, fire magic kept the space warm, ensuring the plants remained alive and healthy. A gardener approached, carrying a grey watering pot.

"I apologize for disturbing you. However, My Lord, are you still expecting your guests? It is almost time to close the entrance."

Zayden gave him a quick nod, tapping his fingers lightly on the glass table before him. The tea had long since cooled. And the places of sweets remained untouched.

Ren stood behind him, silent and still, waiting for an order. Anything. And mostly... Waiting to be dismissed.

After all, what use was he in Zayden’s meetings?

Yet the man dragged him everywhere, as if he couldn’t bear to leave him behind. He simply couldn’t understand him.

"Leave the keys," Zayden finally ordered.

The gardener bowed, a strand of dark hair slipping loose as he straightened his back. Setting the watering pot carefully in its designated place, he exited the garden in silence.

As the man walked away, Zayden’s gaze lingered for a moment. The sight of the gardener’s long hair reminded him of Ren’s—back when it still brushed his shoulders. It wasn’t that he disliked it short, but at least then, he didn’t have to see the mark on Ren’s neck every day.

He glanced behind, making sure he was still there. He asked him to take a seat but the servant refused, stating how unethical it was. He almost used their friendship to make him listen but held back. He shouldn’t force Ren to do anything he didn’t wish to.

Moments later, the soft crunch of footsteps broke the stillness. Soren appeared at the entrance, followed closely by Enzo.

"Zayden," Enzo greeted first, offering a polite smile. "Thank you for seeing us."

Soren greeted his brother with a faint smile. Then, his expression turned tense, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his coat as he took a few steps forward. He still couldn’t understand why he’d been invited here.

The preparations for the hunting festival—personally ordered by the Emperor and overseen by the Queen—had already left him sleepless. And to make matters worse, his fiancé, Crown Prince Rihaan, would be attending as well.

Why did Father send him an invitation?

Soren sighed. He simply wanted to rest.

"Take a seat," Zayden said calmly.

At his word, the two men sat across from him. Enzo’s gaze, however, drifted past the general—landing on the quiet figure standing behind him.

The Temple’s most precious High Priest.

Why is he here?

His eyes narrowed. Yet Ren showed no sign of recognition. Perhaps he truly didn’t remember. Or perhaps... It was because only Enzo had seen him.

Twice.

Once when he was ordered to kill—blindfolded.

And the second time, when he was with another man, smiling.

Back then, Enzo had been baffled. He could hardly believe the two were the same person: the serene priest and the bloodstained executioner.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

"This is—" He raised a hand, his finger trembling as he pointed toward Ren before catching himself. It was rude, but he needed to be sure.

"Oh, him? This is Ren," Zayden interrupted with a grin. "He’s my son’s father."

Enzo froze. His eyes widened.

"Ren?" he repeated, barely above a whisper.

Was he mistaken?

No.

He had seen this High Priest without the blindfold—unlike anyone else in the Temple. Those eyes... red, glimmering like rubies beneath the sunlight as they softened when looking at his mate.

When Enzo had once spoken with Charles about High Priest Raniel, he’d learned that the man’s husband had never seen him without the blindfold. No one had. Everyone in the Temple had avoided his gaze, fearful of the curse said to reside in those eyes—though the details were always kept secret.

But... Zayden’s partner? His son’s father? How can this be?

He couldn’t wrap his mind around this.

"Why did you call us here?" Soren sighed, snapping Enzo out of his spiralling thoughts.

"Well, it’s been a while since we all met," Zayden said, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. "And I needed a place without... without those annoying Hianshu people around."

Enzo let out a low chuckle, unsurprised. Zayden had never hidden his disdain for Hianshu—anything, anyone tied to that name.

But then... How could he accept this man?

The very one who had once stained his hands with the blood of Zayden’s soldiers and friends?

"Zayden... You do know I am the one in charge of the hunting festival, right?" Soren asked, his voice laced with annoyed laughter. He didn’t have time to waste here!

Enzo groaned, rubbing his gloved hands together.

"I still don’t understand why the hunting festival has to be in winter."

"It’s better for prey," Zayden replied simply, leaning back in his chair.

Hunting had always been his favourite activity—though humans had once been his prey of choice. Their greed made the chase more entertaining, their desperate struggle to survive almost amusing. But it had been nearly two centuries since he’d hunted humans. Not since meeting the two humans who had changed his view of them entirely—his late best friends, the only selfless ones he’d ever known.

Since then, he’d tried to see the good in their kind. To be kind. But none had ever been worth it. They always tried to take advantage of him.

Zayden’s gaze drifted to the side. Ren stood nearby, quiet and motionless, his expression unreadable. The fire of the garden cast a faint glow on his silver hair. He looked... tired. As if he’d fall asleep standing if no one stopped him.

With a faint sigh, Zayden rose from his seat and moved to his side. He didn’t touch him, but he leaned close enough for his arm to catch him in case he fell, his faint pheromones filling the space between them.

Ren blinked, startled by the sudden shift of air. When he looked up, Zayden’s face was only inches away—their noses almost brushing. His heart skipped a beat before he could stop it.

Even if he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t deny that Zayden was... handsome. That sharp, commanding gaze of his always softened when it fell on him. It was disarming. Almost tender.

He bit the inside of his cheek.

What nonsense, Ren. You’ve lost your mind.