After spending the whole afternoon snooping around the room and half the evening staring out the window, this popped into Zen's mind.
He never imagined that time could go so slowly. He had counted books on the shelves, surveyed the surrounding area, and tried haunting the staff. But still ran out of things to do.
Sepehr sat at the desk, papers spread before him, light focused on both. It had been hours, and Sepehr was still looking through documents. Zen was sick of the sound of papers.
「I don't wanna see a story of you working on papers for fifty chapters. Stop it!」
*Knock. Knock.*
Zen perked up.
"Come in," Sepehr said without looking up.
The door creaked open, inviting a sweet, flowery scent. Ambrose stepped inside, barely making a sound. Sepehr stood up and gave a short bow. "Your Highness. What brings you here?"
"You have been stuck inside the room all afternoon. So, I came to check if you ran away."
"I didn't realize Your Highness trusts me so little," Sepehr said with a pitiful tone.
"That was a joke…" Ambrose muttered.
"Oh, I apologize for misunderstanding." The apology sounded sincere. Which made Zen wonder if Sepehr was serious or not.
Ambrose had despair written on his face. He closed the door behind him. "Are you still upset?"
"About what?" Sepehr looked genuinely confused.
"Lunch."
For a few seconds, Sepehr just stared at Ambrose. "Your Highness, I can't recall what you are referring to."
It wasn't that Sepehr forgot; he had a great memory. But Sepehr didn't see it as something he needed to be upset over for hours. For him, the issue ended as soon as he was done with lunch. On top of it, he was drowned in paperwork. So, in hindsight, he forgot what he was supposed to be upset about.
Ambrose had the same expression as Zen. "Forget it…how's your hand?"
Sepehr looked at his hand and observed it in the same way as before. "It seems to be healing fine."
"Let me see."
"There's no need—" Sepehr's words were ignored, his hand taken into a larger palm.
「He never misses a chance, does he?」
Ambrose traced the wound with his thumb with a frown. "Does it hurt?"
"It doesn't, Your Highness. The stitch can be removed in a day or two. It's almost healed."
"It's the same as it was two days ago. Why are you lying?"
Sepehr wasn't affected by the accusing question and replied without hesitation. "Your Highness, you haven't seen the wound after it was treated. It has indeed improved."
"Are you sure about that, Sepehr?"
「Uhh…You see…Sepehr…」
Sepehr's expression changed for a moment.
The wound was stitched up as soon as the house arrest was in effect. After he was treated, Sepehr was mostly unconscious in bed all day because of the medication, except for times to eat and wash up. Ambrose was here every day, appearing at the oddest times and staring at the wound—glaring at the wound—before leaving. Other people would come and go as well. Sometimes, it was people from the Black Crescent, and sometimes, Sepehr's attendants were brought over from his residence.
It was because of these sudden interruptions that Zen didn't feel too bored during the last few days.
The point was that Ambrose had observed the wound more than the doctor at this point. But Sepehr didn't know any of this, but he seemed to have caught on to it now.
"When did you—"
"You say you never lie to me. But now's the third time you lied today," Ambrose remarked.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness." Sepehr attempted to take his hand back, but it was locked in Ambrose's grasp. "I don't think the injury needs any more attention. It'll heal in due time."
Ambrose's eyes locked onto Sepehr's with a quiet intensity. "How do I trust that? You've lied too many times today." Sepehr blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. "You never let me do anything for you."
Ambrose's gaze returned to the bandaged hand, thumb tracing over it as if trying to make it heal faster. Then, without warning, he lowered his head, lips brushing against the fingers before pressing onto the palm. The gesture was slow, deliberate, and far too intimate for the room's stillness.
Sepher's fingers twitched. "Your Highness—"
*Knock.*
A light knock on the door interrupted the moment. But Ambrose didn't let go immediately, instead placing another soft kiss on the wrist before stepping back. Sepehr instinctively drew his hand back, hiding it behind himself for a fraction of a second before straightening his posture.
"Come in," he said, voice neutral.
A man entered, bowing before Ambrose as he did. "Your Highness, I'm here to deliver some news." The man, who seemed to be an official of some rank, spoke.
"What is it?"
"An envoy has arrived from the south. Your presence at the palace is requested tomorrow for that reason. The same has been requested for Lord Vale, but Her Majesty wishes for him to arrive sooner."
"Why am I being informed at the last minute like this?" Ambrose's voice had done a 360 from a few moments ago.
"I do not know the details, Your Highness, I'm merely here to pass the message. Please excuse me."
The atmosphere was oddly different from what Zen had seen so far. There wasn't much interaction. But there was hostility and caution despite there being no visible threat. Sepehr had not spoken a word the whole time.
The cold air remained for a minute before Ambrose's voice cut through the silence.
"I'd rather you not go."
"It's my job, Your Highness."
Ambrose turned around with a sigh. "What if I order you not to?" He asked in a low voice.
"I'd still have to go, Your Highness."
Zen was having a hard time understanding their conversation. There was barely any information, which was usually the case. But it was more difficult today.