"Is that so?…" He narrowed his eyes. "I saw one of the men who came with us by the carriage being dragged by guards earlier."
"When?" Zayden frowned. How—and why—had Eiran even seen that?
The boy quickly covered his mouth, realizing he might have said something he shouldn't have. His gaze darted back and forth between his two fathers.
"W-Well," he stammered. "I followed you both—"
Zayden's frown deepened.
"I told you to stay in the palace, Eiran."
"Don't scold him," Ren interrupted softly, patting Eiran's back. He turned toward the boy with a gentle smile. "And you, Eiran, you should listen to your dad when he says something. That place isn't somewhere a child should be."
"But I'm all grown up now," Eiran grumbled, slumping deeper into his chair.
Ren sighed quietly. His son always insisted he was grown, but Ren knew better—the boy was still a child at heart, no matter how mature his appearance might seem.
