The sun was already setting before he realized it. Some servants came, offering lunch or a snack, but he refused them—sending them away the moment they stepped too close to the door.
He didn't want anyone to notice Ren's state. They would spread rumours, cause him harm like before—like in his mansion when he first arrived. And palace rumours were the worst; they travelled like the wind, impossible to trace back to the one who started them.
Zayden inhaled slowly, peeking through the cracked door. Ren had finally drifted into a shallow sleep, blankets tangled around him. The discarded clothes on the floor caught his eye.
A small frown formed on Zayden's face.
He hates mess…
He debated stepping in, but paused right away.
If he wakes now and sees this, he'll be upset.
As soon as the man's scent drifted into his nostrils, Zayden bit his hand again, bleeding slightly, forcing himself to stay still.
He could wait.
Let Ren wake on his own terms.
