Chapter 10

A TRUCE, NEROmused, the following night. It had only been a day, but it seemed to have worked so far. They'd eaten dinner together and their conversation had been civil and light, with no sniping or glares. He'd itched to bring up what Perrin had pulled him aside to privately discuss with him after they'd returned back to the castle after their snowy pseudo-date, but he'd managed to resist, sure that it would only cause more problems.

"So you're sure that presence or whatever wasn't just another dragon?"

I'm certain. It was strange, and I didn't recognize it at all. It frightened March and confused me, but because of Bryndr, I forgot about it until yesterday.

"Because he was thinking about it, right?"

Correct. But as it's something I already knew about on my own, I don't believe this would count as me sharing his private thoughts with you.

"Yeah," Nero agreed, frowning. "I don't think so either. But if he was still thinking about it after all this time, it must have really freaked him out."

It had, but Perrin wisely decided not to confirm, as they'd promised not to violate his intimate thoughts.

"I know you can't answer this, but I wonder if that's why he hasn't gone back into the woods until yesterday, when he wouldn't be alone."

Perhaps you can test your theory by asking him to return here with you for a picnic, or for a walk.

"Very subtle." Taking a drag of a cigarette, he blew the smoke in the direction opposite from Perrin's face. He didn't think dragons could suffer the effects of secondhand smoke, but just in case. "You trying to set me up with him?"

His aura is very special, and I enjoy his presence, as you seem to. Your thoughts regarding him have changed.

"Something like that."

But I've only known you to consume tobacco in periods of great stress. Is there something else that's making you unhappy?

Tucking his tongue in his cheek, Nero shook his head. "A different kind of stress." He heard a derisive snort in his head.

You humans are ruled by your genitals, are you not?

"We are," Nero agreed, stretching his legs out in front of him, using Perrin's scaly side as a support for his back. "Most of us, anyway."

But you are not the type to abstain from sexual activity.

"I kind of don't have a choice right now."

I understand that your March is a finicky sort, but could you not fulfill your desire with another human, since he is unwilling?

Since dragons more or less only used sex as a means to procreate, and very rarely at that, Nero wasn't surprised that Perrin had trouble grasping the social repercussions of what he was suggesting.

"Wouldn't be worth it, believe me."

They were quiet for a few minutes, with only the soft hoots from owls and the light gurgling from a creek in the distance piercing the veil of silence around them. As was common and expected the night before his father's yearly jousting tournament, he'd already been approached by a few acquaintances that night, eager to offer their company. Any other year he would have been in his bed, enjoying a pleasant night of unrestrained, no-strings-attached banging with an attractive aristocrat that he wouldn't need to maintain contact with after it was over.

What was more irritating to him than abstaining from that very dear tradition was that he hadn't even really been tempted to say yes to them. Though he was very much unused to abstaining from sex, he found the idea of taking someone into his bed behind March's back didn't appeal to him at all. And when his mind wandered to sex, as it seemed to be doing more and more frequently, the prudish, fair-faced noble was the only one he could seem to conjure up fantasies of.

Sezlyth claims that you are a troublesome sort, and that she never had to counsel Beritz in such matters as you need counsel in.

"My father married my mother at a younger age than even I am. Of course he didn't have these kind of problems."

I told her to mind her own business if she had no constructive advice to offer.

Laughing, Nero let his head fall to the side. Patting Perrin's massive dark flank, he gave it a quick nuzzle with his forehead. "You don't have to defend me. But I appreciate it."

They talked for another few minutes about the tournament, and then that Cedar, Laurel, Ramor, and Ingrid would stay overnight once it was over. It was a tradition between he and his friends that they would have their own sort of party that night, after the public festivities ended.

Again, he thought of March. It seemed no subject in his mind was safe from the raven-haired male's influence. Nero had no doubt that the casual little social gathering wasn't the sort of thing March would choose to attend. But he wanted him there, he realized with a slight jolt. He wouldn't have any fun without him, would only spend his time wondering what the stuffy puritan was doing.

March's family was meant to visit as well, but the day after, so they could focus on spending time with him instead of the competition. The prince had never actually spoken with them, and the idea of interacting with them gave him an uneasy feeling, so he pushed that from his mind.

It seems unfair that young March should be denied the opportunity to spend time here, seeing as he enjoys it so much. But I'm confident that with you and I around, he would feel secure enough.

Nero smirked, putting the stub of his cigarette out on the ground, then shoving it in his pocket after it had cooled. "I'll bring him, alright? You don't have to browbeat me into it."

Merely a suggestion.

"Right."

RESTLESS, MARCH TURNEDagain to his side, unable to find a comfortable position for sleep. Despite the expensive sheets and pillows that embellished his soft bed, he'd never slept more poorly than in the weeks he'd been staying at the castle.

It was all because of Neroki, he thought caustically. If they fought, he'd go to bed seething with anger. If they didn't, then he'd lay awake hot and tense and frustrated.

Need, an achy, humiliating sensation he was mostly unfamiliar with, haunted him like a demon. He despised the feeling, wanting nothing more to do with it. He was damned if he gave in, and let the feeling sweep him away into Nero's arms. But he was also damned if he didn't.

This had never been part of his plan. He was supposed to be engaged, going on sedate carriage rides, and perhaps shaded walks. He may have let his betrothed have a few kisses, though he wouldn't dream of going further until a ring adorned his finger. He wasn't supposed to be suffering from chronic bouts of arousal, even his meager hours of sleep plagued with ardent imagery.

The prince seemed to have no sense of personal space when it came to him. He'd very much enjoyed riding up into the mountains on Perrin, but the memory of Neroki's firm chest pressed into his back, arms snaking around him to hold him tightly plagued him. Even now, thinking of it had flames roaring down his body to settle in his core.

Maybe all of that would have been okay, he reasoned, if not for the often obscene way the prince would compliment him. Putting vulgar images in his head that wouldn't fade. He was never completely sure if the comments were meant to shock him, or entice him, though they did both.

His self-pitying thoughts came to a screeching halt when he heard the knob to his door jiggle once, then twice, before silence. Pulse racing, he wondered if he had imagined it. Had it been the wind? Or maybe just a guest walking by his door? Many, if not all, of the rooms in the hall of the wing he stayed in were inhabited by visitors that were to attend a jousting tournament the following day.

When it jiggled again, his eyes widened. It had to be Neroki. March supposed it wouldn't be totally unlike him, though he'd never tried breaking into his room before. Still, it would be just his sort of joke. Sighing exasperatedly, March sat up, intending to go and unlock it for him.

The knob rattled again, this time followed by a man's grumble on the other side of the door. Fear gripped him, sending chills through his guts. That had definitely not been Neroki's voice. He struggled to form a rational thought, panic darting through his brain.

When the lock broke with a snap, March inhaled with a sharp gasp, snatching his bow and a single arrow off a table and diving into the shadowed corner. Knelt behind the desk, he clutched the weapon to his chest, holding his hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his ragged breaths as the door opened with a soft creak.

Moving as slowly as his cells would allow, he leaned out just enough to see the doorway. The light from the hallway illuminated the man's unfamiliar silhouette. He was taller than Neroki, with a broad, muscular build that was nothing like the prince's lean frame.

"Hello?" The voice was slightly familiar to him, but the hysteria in his brain prevented him from remembering anyone that it could belong to.

Calm down, he ordered himself, squeezing his eyes closed as the man stumbled forward in the dark, probably feeling around for a light. Gripping the arrow like a lifeline, March silently notched it, raising the tip towards the figure. He'd never fired at another person before, having barely been able to stomach the slaughter of rabbits he'd been forced into in the early years of his training.

"Are you in here?" The man spoke again. "Are you hiding because you want me to find you?" The words were playful, but to March's ears they sounded perverse and sadistic.

Praying for calm, he focused his eyes on the figure. He couldn't see their face, but he had a general idea of where any major arteries would be. As long as he didn't hit one of them, he wouldn't kill the intruder. A single wooden arrow with a standard field point could hardly down someone with such prodigious size, but if he hit a leg, he doubted he could be followed.

Taking aim at a thigh, careful to stay to the side of the femoral artery, March released the arrow. It pierced the meat with a sickening squelch. The man roared, falling down to one knee. Seizing the opportunity for escape, March emerged from the corner, barreling past him and out the door.

STIFLING A YAWN, Nero strolled through a common area of the castle, unsurprised to find it empty. Most of the guests would have their own bathrooms in their rooms, so there wasn't much of a reason for anyone to go roaming the halls at night, and it was too late for socializing. He wasn't particularly tired, but he'd stalled his own sleep, and Perrin's, long enough. Resigned to yet another night of tossing and turning, particularly when he knew what he could have been doing in his bed instead, he rounded a corner on the way to his room.

He whirled at the sound of a shriek, followed by a clatter, then the noise of thundering footsteps. The strange symphony of sounds had come from the stairs leading up to one of the guest wings. He hoped none of the company attending the jousting tournament were being raucous up there, disturbing March's sleep. He didn't have to wonder long, shock washing over him as a familiar form came whipping around the curve in the staircase.

"Neroki!" The noble slammed into his chest, his breath tearing out in harsh sobs.

"March! God, are you okay? Are you hurt?" His arms encircled March's trembling form, holding him tightly for a moment, mind whirling with absolute confusion.

"I-I… There was someone in my room. He broke the lock on my door and came in." The words were muffled, spoken into the prince's shoulder.

Gripping March's arms and dragging him back, Nero's eyes raced over his face. "Did he- Are you- What happened?"

Understanding what was being asked of him, March shook his head, fighting back tears. "I'm okay. I was able to get out, but I think he's still in there."

Murder flashing in his eyes, Nero changed direction, intending to charge up the stairs. He may not have been a nationally recognized archer, but he'd had basic martial arts training, a handful of schoolyard scraps(of which he'd more often than not come out on top), and a relatively fit physique from hiking and riding. Combined with the rage rushing through him at the sight of the noble's terror, he felt ready to rip someone in two.

"Wait!" March begged, fingers digging into Nero's hand to keep him there. "Don't leave me. Please." His eyes, swirling with all the shades of a rainbow, were sheened with moisture.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins like a torrent, but Nero forced himself to still. With as much poise as he could manage, even while his muscles throbbed, bracing for attack, he lifted a hand to March's face, stroking the smooth cheek. "Come with me. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Though he felt like his legs would give out from under him, March could only nod, sniffling.

"O-okay, but just so you know… I shot him."

"With an arrow?"

"Yes."

Gently supporting the still quivering noble with one arm, Nero led them up the stairs at the quickest pace he could manage. Then, his mind went blank, save for the knowledge of the intruder.

"Nero?" Ramor, looking flabbergasted, and grimacing in obvious pain, was crumpled in a large heap in front of March's room. The arrow was still lodged in his thick leg, a small area of crimson blooming from around the wound and soaking into his pants. "March?"

"Ramor," Nero shook his head in disbelief. "What are you doing? Why were you in March's room?"

"Me?" He looked from them, into the still dark room, then back to them again. "This isn't March's room."

"It is my room," March corrected him softly, torn between horror and sympathy for the pain he knew Ramor must be in. It didn't even occur to him that he was still clinging to Nero's side, unwilling to let go.

"No, I got a note from someone asking to meet them here, in this room."

Nero looked at March questioningly for a moment, immediately seeing the confusion in his eyes. "That note wasn't from March."

"Well, I know that," Ramor groused, as if it were obvious. "It was supposed to be for a rendezvous of sorts. Or so I assumed."

"Sex," Nero explained, glancing at March, who glared up at him.

"I know what a rendezvous is. I'm not an idiot."

"Who was the note from?" Nero asked, turning back to Ramor.

"It was anonymous. I assumed it was from someone we know. You know how it usually is tonight."

"Right," Nero answered, hoping March wouldn't read too deeply into that particular statement.

"I had no idea this was your room, March. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to break the lock either. It just snapped."

"It's okay," March said, though his hands were still shaking. Willing himself to absorb the knowledge that he was no longer in danger, and had never really been in true danger at all, he knelt next to Ramor, who regarded him with a repentant expression.

"You must have been very frightened. I'm truly apologetic."

"I'm sorry, too," he said, eyeing the puncture wound. "I wouldn't have shot you, but…"

"It's understandable," Ramor insisted. His deep-toned skin was sheened with sweat now.

"We have to get the arrow out," March said, glancing back up to Nero, whose lips were set in a thin line. "You'll need to get a physician."

His adrenaline rush hadn't even begun to fade, but Nero nodded, trying not to show his emotions on his face. "Should you come with me?" He asked, unsure if March felt safe staying with the larger male, wanting to give him an out if needed.

"I'm okay," March promised. He watched Nero speed down the stairs before turning back to Ramor. "Wait here. Don't move too much, you'll only make it worse." He rushed into the room, clicking on the lamp. Drenching a washcloth with cool water from the bathroom, he returned to the hall, dabbing Ramor's forehead with it.

"You're an angel," he groaned, letting his head rest back against the wall.

"Actually, I'm more like a cherub," March said, feeling his mouth twitch into a grin, despite the bizarre situation they were in. "Angels don't carry a bow."

A deep laugh rumbled from Ramor's chest, curving his lips even as his eyes fluttered closed.