The redrya was refusing to eat again and it was grating on Kincaid’s last nerve.

            Something had happened at the Laying. Perhaps the experience…Kincaid had gotten strong waves of horror and disgust from the bond through out the ceremony, but it felt like something more. He had noticed Bodric whispering in his ear, but over the raucous applause and cheers, Kincaid couldn’t make it out. When he approached his brother about it, Bodric only smirked and reminded Kincaid that he still hadn’t officially presented his pair. 

            How could he when the human wouldn’t even leave the bed?

            Reid remained huddled under the blankets, curled into a ball. A solid wall of numbness was the only thing Kincaid could feel through the bond. It didn’t necessarily impede on his work, the feeling much easier to ignore than the previous restlessness, but still, he did not like it. 

            It felt like hiding. If the redrya could hide from him, that meant he had lost control. He could not afford to lose control. Not now. Not with the King and Council breathing down his neck. 

            With a frustrated grunt, Kincaid approached the side of the bed, dipping low into the cushions until he sat next to the now stiffening lump. 

            “You must eat,” Kincaid commanded. 

            Nothing. No movement, just a hesitant freeze as if with enough time, Kincaid would go away. Kincaid did not appreciate the childish games. 

            Ripping the blanket from the redrya, exposing the weak and frail form, he glared down at him. Sickness radiated off of him in waves, causing Kincaid’s morá to darken a putrid green.

            Great…this was just what Kincaid needed, another headache to deal with. 

            “Are you ill, redrya?” Kincaid demanded, studying the lifeless brown eyes that simply stared forward at nothingness. 

            Fed up, Kincaid yanked the redrya up, ignoring the whimper of pain he emitted before dragging him over to the bathroom. He tossed him in the tub and turned on the water. The redrya huddled in the bath, clothes still on, shivering pathetically.

            “Do you not know how to even clean, redyra? Must you be so weak in everything?” the male growled in annoyance. 

            Kincaid rolled up his sleeves, choosing to do the job himself rather than have more servants invade his den. He was already annoyed they had to come to feed the redrya constantly, their scents ruining the atmosphere he had created, but he simply did not have the time to do it himself. 

            Tugging the redrya’s clothes off and tossing them in a soggy heap on the bathroom floor, Kincaid observed Reid, wondering if he had truly witnessed the fire in him or if had simply been a fleeting phenomena. Where was it? That brazen audacity? The creature before him was nothing like before…no this was a broken thing. One that Kincaid could not begin to fix, nor did he have the energy or time to spare to do it. 

            With a none too gentle hand, Kincaid lathered the human up before scrubbing him down. All the while Reid shivered and whimpered. 

            When he was clean enough to Kincaid’s standards, the Naerian drained the tub and tossed a towel over the human. When the human made no move to dry himself, Kincaid let out a frustrated sigh. 

            He hadn’t cared for another like this since his sire had fallen ill. Bodric was too busy ruling the remaining Naerians that hadn’t fallen to sickness and the servants were all too afraid to catch it. That left Kincaid, once again stuck with the job that no one wanted, and not caring enough to say no. If he could do it, he would, he hadn’t seen the point in rejecting. 

            Though lately, the urge to say no has been pushing at his boundaries. Gently rattling the box that sealed the nasty parts of him up. The seal would break if Kincaid wasn’t careful. And who knew what would happen if it did…

            After rubbing the redrya dry and pulling him out of the tub, Kincaid brought him to the table instead of the bed where he spent most of his time. 

The morning’s meal was still set on the table. Plopping Reid down in the chair, Kincaid pushed the plate in front of him.

            “Eat,” he commanded. 

            The human still didn’t budge. If Kincaid hadn’t witnessed the subtle flinch or felt careful guarding of his thoughts, he would have assumed he had not been heard. The behavior was getting ridiculous at this point. 

            What was it that had triggered such an extreme response? It couldn’t be the Laying, they were taught this in school, were they not? 

            Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t actually sure. He’d have to check with the Council about that. 

            Such weak creatures, can’t even handle that. 

            “Was it the Laying that bothered you? Or perhaps something my brother said?” Kincaid asked, figuring it would be better to take the softer approach Pelryn had suggested instead of blunt force the way everyone else did with the redrya. He understood why they wanted to though, these creatures were infuriatingly dull.

            When silence ensued afterwards, Kincaid nearly exploded. Still, the redyra refused to answer him! Pelryn was–

            “What happened to the twins?” Reid spoke softly. “The ones that…laid the eggs.”

            He didn’t need to elaborate, Kincaid knew what he spoke of already. So it was the Laying that had upset him. He’d have to have a word about the education system. The Laying should not come as a surprise. They needed to be properly prepared, especially if they were going to react so poorly to witnessing it the first time. 

            “They are placed in redrya recovery until they are breedable again,” Kincaid explained matter-of-factly. Reid flinched at the words. 

            “And the eggs? Do they get to see them again?”

            “Who?” Kincaid frowned.

            “The twins…will they see their eggs again? Or the hatchlings?” 

            Kincaid snorted. “Of course not. The eggs will be taken to a Den Mother to be properly nurtured.”

            Kincaid wanted to scoff at the entire line of questioning. How ridiculous!

            Except, Reid looked horrified. Kincaid didn’t understand why in the slightest. If anything, from how much Reid seemed to hate his kind and the idea of laying a clutch, he thought he would be thrilled not to have to deal with the eggs once laid. 

            “You breed them, then rip their babies away from them?” Reid sneered, eyes watering uncharacteristically. 

            Kincaid’s brows furrowed. 

            “Why would we leave our kind to be raised by redrya? It makes no sense.”

            “Because they are human too! You didn’t even let them hold their babies! Or eggs–or-or whatever! You just ripped them away! There’s no way the babies aren’t traumatized by that!”

            Kincaid pursed his lips. He hadn’t thought about that. Well, he could care less really about the wants of the redrya. They would not be able to raise proper Naeyans, that was a fact. But maybe this bonding process was the missing key. The link to the hatchlings viability. 

            “Explain to me, the human ritual with birthing,” Kincaid demanded, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, giving Reid his full attention. 

            It surprised Reid into silence. Surely, Kincaid wasn’t serious. Did he really want to know? Was he really going to listen?

            “When a woman gives birth, the doctor’s usually lay the newborn on the mother’s chest so they can bond.” Or so Reid had heard. It’s not like he had the usual education in the matter, finding out only what he could from the tales of older women and the books that hadn’t yet been burned. He would have learned more had he made it to Middle School, even more still in High School. Two things that ceased to exist after The Change. 

            Now all of the schoolings were run by Naerians and they only catered to Naerian etiquette or human oppression. 

            Kincaid studied Reid closely, expression pensive.

            “Hm, I will speak with Dorian and test your theory.”

            “Theory?” Reid frowned, confused out of his previous horror.

            Kincaid only nodded. Then he pointed to the plate in front of Reid. 

            “Eat, or I will make you.”

            Without another word, Kincaid got up and left the human to his own devices. He better eat, or else Kincaid might just send him to the Belt. 

            He was on his way to bring his findings to Dorian, when he noticed the obvious influx of servants headed to the main hall.

            Stopping one, nearly scaring them to death, he demanded answers. 

            “What is going on?” 

            The servant bowed deeply. “We are preparing, General.”

            Kincaid rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can clearly see that. What are you preparing for?” 

            The servant tensed before slowly raising their head. Kincaid could not read their expression past the mask, but the clenching in his gut gave him plenty warning.

            “For your pair’s Presentation, General.”