"He was an elf too," Henry continued, as if Zayden didn't already know whom he was speaking about. They strolled past Angela's therapeutic garden, fragrant with the delicate blossoms of moon lilies and the soft hum of enchanted bees, making their way around the sprawling compound. "I would've thought you were his son or something; you bear such a striking resemblance. But his last name was Weiner," Henry added, his gaze drifting to the horizon, as if lost in memories long past.
Bitterness swelled within Zayden at the mention of his father's name from this Meadowbrook's lips. He had adopted a false surname to slip into the man's life unnoticed, and while he could see the resemblance, he resented how easily Henry fed on that connection. "He must've been a good man," Zayden replied, evening his voice to mask the hatred lacing his words.
"He was," Henry agreed, a hint of nostalgia warming his tone. "A pity he had to die."
