Chapter 12

AS NERO HADwarned, the jousting tournament didn't hold March's interest much, though he seemed to be in the minority on that opinion. Seated in a private, shaded box perched above the other seats, March could only wince as the knights collided with each others' lances, metal crunch harsh against his ears. Cheers and jeers rang out from all around the stadium each time.

Beritz seemed to hold with those who enjoyed the spectacle, waving a tankard of beer around when he was particularly excited. Practically leaned over the edge of their platform, he yelled encouragement at his favored participants. A handful of other men and women who March had been introduced to as close friends of Beritz, joined in his revelry.

"Told you it was lame," Nero murmured close to the noble's ear. Seated further back from the crowded edge of the balcony, they sank into the shadows, though still close enough to feign watching the spectacles below. Afraid of seeming ungrateful toward Beritz' invitation, March had insisted they at least pretend to be enjoying themselves.

"Your father is having fun."

"Hardly a shining endorsement," the prince scoffed, though he had a lazy sort of grin on his face. "The man can make sport of anything."

"You act like that's a bad thing," March mused, finding the king's endless enthusiasm endearing. "I'm envious that he can find joy in mundane things. It must be nice."

He could too, Nero thought, if he'd only stop worrying so much about what everyone thought of him. But he had a feeling the observation would only put the noble on the defensive. And the day had been pleasant and easy so far, despite that he'd been forced to wake up hours before he would have gotten up on his own. There was no use in spoiling it now just for the sake of an offhanded comment.

He'd worried that it would be awkward, akin to a morning after scenario, not that he had much experience with those. It was rare for him to let anyone stay overnight, and rarer still for him to sleep away from his own bed. Maybe he was selfish, he mused, but he'd never cared much for sharing his space. Then again, he'd grown up an only child, so was it really his fault he wasn't accustomed to it?

To his surprise, there had been very little of the bumbling small talk he'd expected, despite the fact that they hadn't actually done anything together. The raven-haired male had been direct and to the point, showering and dressing quickly before using the small assortment of creams or whatever else he'd brought along that Nero hadn't quite been able to identify or understand the purpose for.

Propping his elbows on his thighs to rest his chin on, March sighed as a cool breeze caressed them, sending the leaves in the trees dancing as it filtered through. Despite the frenzy of loud activity around them, he found he could somewhat tune out the cries of victory and anguish from the crowd and focus on the pleasant weather. And it had been interesting seeing the nobles from other parts of the kingdom, some even from outside the kingdom, the differences in their fashion and the way they spoke.

Though Nero was always aware of March's beauty, the times when the prince could stare unobserved were rare. Rarer still were the times when it didn't put a stiffness in the noble's spine, or make him react defensively. Seeing him in the relaxed posture with his eyes closed in pure, innocent pleasure, long lashes brushing against his cheekbones, sent a metaphorical sword across Nero's kneecaps. Not for the first time wondering how he could ever stand to be in the presence of the raven-haired male without taking him into his arms, he cleared his throat.

"There's something I've been wanting to say to you, but I'm not sure how you'll react."

Glancing over cautiously, March considered. "Do you think you know how I'll react now?"

"Not really," Nero admitted. "Should I still go ahead?" When the noble consented with a nod, he went on. "I shouldn't have kissed you back then, at the bicentennial banquet. It was wrong, and I'm sorry."

It was the last thing he'd expected the prince to say. Blinking in shock, March felt his mouth drop open a bit. As his brain started working overtime to process the statement and formulate an answer, the crowd around them broke into loud cries.

"I don't know what to say," March finally spoke, as the cheers quieted down.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know." Though he felt a lick of nerves floating around his lower stomach, Nero kept the eye contact between them until March finally lowered his lashes, turning away a bit.

"I never thought you'd bring that up," he admitted, unsure of how to feel. He'd all but forgiven it already. An emotion he couldn't articulate swelled up in his stomach. He had a sudden memory of the rage and humiliation he'd suffered swirling around inside him as he'd relived the events standing in his kitchen, the night before he'd come to the castle. Less than two months had passed, but he felt like a completely different person.

"This isn't meant to be an excuse or anything, but… I was just a selfish, greedy kid used to getting whatever I wanted. I mean I still am, in a way, but… Anyway, I get why you didn't want to come here and why you haven't made things easy for me. I know you apologized for it but I know why you were acting like that. I wouldn't want to be in your position, either."

Because he could see the pretty male's multi-hued eyes were heavy with indecision, Nero hoped his instincts weren't misleading him, and that opting to lighten the mood wouldn't be a mistake.

"And I recognize how unfair it was for me to let you skip over the usual clumsiness of a first kiss," Nero went on. "Being that I was already so experienced and competent, I'm sure I spoiled you for anyone else."

The breath March hadn't known he was holding came whooshing out in a shocked peal of laughter. Though he knew he should be slightly appalled with his own reaction, he could only shake his head.

"Only you could make a sincere apology so arrogant."

"It's a gift," he said, relieved and charmed by the lovely sound of the noble's laugh. "But I hope you know that I'm serious."

"It means a lot that you would even think to apologize for something from such a long time ago."

"I should have done it sooner," he said. "I kept wanting to, but…"

"It doesn't matter," March replied honestly. "I accept. Please, let's just forget it and start over."

"Start over," Nero repeated, a smile slowly spreading across his handsome face. His voice had taken on that addictive honey-like quality again, March thought. Was it something he could control, pouring it out at will, or did it come naturally to him? "I can do that. But there's something else I need to say."

"Okay."

"It's true I was wrong for kissing you before, because you weren't ready for it. But things are different now, aren't they?"

March tried to swallow, but found his throat too dry. The stare he was now so familiar with threatened to swallow him whole, spreading heat over his body until he worried he would melt into a puddle on the floor. What was happening to him? Heart pounding, he noted that his hands had tensed into fists on his thighs and deliberately relaxed them before answering.

"How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, March. You don't feel the same way about me that you did when you came here. I don't feel the same way, either."

"That's… One has nothing to do with the other," he protested, feeling as though he were dangerously close to being swept away by a forceful tide.

"They have everything to do with each other," Nero countered, voice low. "When I'm attracted to someone, and they're attracted to me, I can't seem to find a good reason why I wouldn't act on that."

"This isn't the time or place for this conversation." Though he'd tried to inject the statement with a tone of finality, the breathlessness in March's voice had the prince reaching out to lightly cup his chin. Besides the simple pleasure of touching the pretty male's smooth skin, the action gave Nero the added benefit of keeping his face turned up, so he couldn't look away.

"But you can't deny that I'm right, can you?"

For once unable or perhaps unwilling to struggle against the possessive gesture, March watched the prince's warmed-honey eyes drift down to his lips, and felt them part slightly, as if waiting for his kiss. "No."

Releasing a difficult knot of breath, Nero leaned in even closer, so there was hardly any space left between them. "March, I-"

"Did ya see that one, boy?" Beritz' baritone voice rang out with obvious glee as he reached back to vaguely smack his massive hand around Nero's general position, eyes still glued in front of him to the scene below. "You saw, didn't you?" The mug of beer in his other hand waved wildly, sloshing liquid over the side. "I told you he'd be the one to take it all, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you told me." Nero didn't have a clue what his father was raving about. The stadium around them could have been engulfed in flames or invaded by monsters and he wouldn't have had a clue. Suspecting by the way March had hastily jerked away from him, Nero thought he hadn't been the only one to completely lose track of where they were. The raucous cheers were obscenely loud now, where they'd basically been non-existent to him only moments earlier.

"You alright, boy?" Beritz asked, finally glancing back to the pair of them, taking in March's expression and general paleness.

"I-I'm fine. I'm just, um…" Struggling to come up with an excuse for his sudden bout of dizziness, March gave a slight cough.

"Squeamish over the game, are you?" The king asked, brow furrowed in concern.

"Yes!" He answered, probably too quickly. From beside him, he heard the prince make a derisive sound that dripped with annoyance.

"Don't you worry about a thing, March. These knights are trained to put on a good show for us! Takes a lot to really hurt them, if you know what I mean."

"That's good to know."

"You're a delicate sort, aren't you?" He mused, setting a hand on March's head for a moment, ruffling the soft strands of dark hair. "But it matches that face of yours."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He hoped it was a compliment, anyway.

The winner of the tournament was presented with a gleaming trophy by Beritz himself, among boisterous applause. When the crowd began to disperse, milling out of the stands, March realized he and Neroki were left sitting alone in the private box.

"What was it you were saying about enjoying his enthusiasm, again?" Nero asked, running his tongue around his teeth.

Suppressing what he felt could be a hysterical fit of laughter, March bit down on his lip. "I don't have a clue what you mean."

Chuckling despite himself, Nero shook his head exasperatedly. "Come on, we'll look like idiots if we're the only ones left hanging around out here." Following the crowd, they departed from the stadium portion of the property.

After what seemed like quite a few lengthy goodbyes, they were approached by Beritz again.

"Quite a tournament this year!" He proclaimed. "But I didn't get a chance to talk to you much, did I?"

Only enough to ruin what should have been a lovely moment, Nero thought, but didn't voice it. He saw Tanjer, who he'd asked to install a new lock on March's door attempting to flag him down from across the courtyard. "Excuse me just a moment," he said, before heading that way.

"Seems like you're settling in just fine here," Beritz said, a note of pride evident in his voice. Flushing a bit at the admiration, March smiled.

"I hope so, Your Majesty. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

"I've heard you're making the rounds when it comes to the academics."

"Knowledge is a passion of mine," March confirmed. "Again, I'm thankful for everything. Having access to the library and to all the lectures has been a dream, really."

"Still, you must be excited to see your family tomorrow, eh?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you so much for sending a land ship for them. I've never really been away from home until now, you know."

"So I've heard. You hide it well," Beritz noted. "Everyone's been quite impressed."

"That's kind of you to say."

"Try not to let that little party keep you up too late tonight. Wouldn't want you having to greet them with shadows under those pretty eyes."

"O-oh," March fidgeted a little at the compliment. "I didn't realize you knew about that." He'd been under the impression the party Nero and his friends had was meant to be kept a secret.

"He thinks it's a secret." Beritz gave a booming laugh at March's stricken expression. "I never was able to break it to him, but he should know by now that I always have an eye on what goes on in my own castle."

"Oh."

"Incidentally," Beritz leaned back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his beard to hide his grin, "How did you end up sleeping last night? I trust you found your… temporary chambers to be accommodating."

Certain that his skin must have taken on a color never before observed in human history, March found himself praying fervently for the Earth to give way beneath his feet and plunge him into sweet molten death.

At that moment, Nero came back up behind them, laying a hand on March's shoulder as he did so. "What's wrong with you?" He asked incredulously, taking in the obvious horror radiating from the dark-haired male.

"I-I need air. Excuse me," March let the words fall from a mouth that felt as dry as an abandoned tomb as he scurried away.

"Air? We're outside," Nero pointed out, watching with part interest and part concern as his pretty companion disappeared from his view. "What'd you say to him?" He asked, giving his father an accusatory look.

"Nothing much," Beritz answered. "Only commenting on the sleeping arrangements the two of you decided on last night."

"Oh, come on," Nero groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "You have no idea how difficult you are making my life right now."

"Challenge is the spice of life, son."

"Could you refrain from providing additional challenge to a situation that you forced me into in the first place?"

"You know you can't really appreciate anything unless you work for it."

"So you've said," Nero sighed. "Not that I owe you an explanation, but last night I was the consummate gentleman you requested that I be."

"And I couldn't be prouder," Beritz acknowledged, again hiding a smile he knew would infuriate his frustrated son. "As I thought, your courting seems to be progressing well."

"Let's hope it continues to progress now that you've given March the impression he can't glance in my direction without being watched," he replied coolly. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll try and track him down before he flings himself out of a high window."

"Have a pleasant rest of your day, Nero," Beritz called out, amused beyond belief at the scoff he received in response.

BECAUSE HE TRULYdid need air, and some time alone to reflect on what had happened in the stadium, March thought the worst place he could return to would be his room. That would be the first place Neroki would come looking for him, he knew. So he detoured on the way back, making his way through the crowds of people up the stairs to a courtyard in the wing opposite to the one he was housed in. Settling on a stone bench, he watched between the gaps in the lush hedges as guests of the castle began making their way toward the main entrance hall to leave by way of carriage or private land ship or airship.

He felt helpless, he realized. It was a daunting, painful feeling but it was nothing new. He'd always been helpless. He'd had no say in his mother's decision to move them out of the kingdom proper to a poor farming town where he could never be formally and culturally educated. It seemed he'd had no influence over whether the other children there had liked him. No matter how he'd behaved, they'd always had cruel things to say, and he'd never really been able to make friends. He'd been unable to turn down the king's offer to come stay at the castle. And now he was completely powerless to stop whatever was happening between he and the prince.

Like a leaf floating along a river current, he thought, somewhat bitterly. Would there ever be a point in his life that he could stand against the current and make his own decisions? He knew he could deny and refuse and lie that he had no interest in pursuing the unfamiliar feelings. If he was adamant enough, he was certain that Neroki would allow them to go their separate ways and forget that any of this was happening. But was that really what he wanted?

Even the mere understanding that he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted was distressing to him. He'd always, at least, had that to cling to. He knew what he wanted. A well-bred, high-ranking, educated husband with genes that would mix well with his to create well-bred, high-ranking, educated children. He wanted a life he could be content with, and without the stress of financial struggle or the embarrassment of social inferiority. And yet he was risking all of that for the singular thrill of being Prince Neroki's momentary interest.

Pulled from his thoughts by a rustling of leaves behind him, March turned to stare up at a male noble about his age. He was well-dressed, with hair that sparkled like copper in the streaming sunlight.

"March Cesari, right?" He asked, turning on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right," March confirmed, though his instincts warned him to be cautious. "And you are?"

"I'm Pavel," he answered. "You're the prince's… Beau, at the moment. Aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

Pavel gave a slow nod, glancing around. "My father and I flew in for the tournament. He comes every year, but this is the first time I've been."

March shifted on the bench, keeping an eye on the other man as he paced around the little garden oasis. "I hope you enjoyed it."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Jousting is jousting. Something for cavemen to place bets and shout over. But I've enjoyed the castle. It's beautiful."

"It's lovely, yes."

"I took a little tour yesterday. Walked the gardens, saw the cathedral. The lecture hall. I got stopped at that big gate, though."

"The gate to the dragon enclosure?"

"Yes," Pavel confirmed, his voice holding a note of annoyance. "I wanted to see, but…"

"You have to be approved by His Majesty or His Highness to be allowed back there," he explained, feeling a bit of sympathy for the red-haired male. He remembered the frustration of wanting to see beyond the stone wall, too.

"I imagine you've been."

"Ah," March faltered a bit, feeling awkward. "Well, yes. I've been in with Neroki."

"Neroki," he mused, repeating the word as if it were an amusing pun rather than a name. "I've never heard anyone refer to him that way."

"Well, it is his name."

Pavel hummed to acknowledge the statement. "Does he like being called by his full name?"

"He hasn't complained yet." An interlude of silence stretched out for so long that March began to feel uncomfortable and cleared his throat. "Pavel?"

"Hm?" Distracted by the marble statue of a fair-faced woman posing elegantly over a blooming rosebush, he turned back to face the noble. "Ah, excuse me. Lost in thought. I'll be heading out now," he added. "My valet was loading my luggage into our airship."

Eyes wide, March watched as the stranger strode off without another look back.