Chapter 17

WANTING A BITof distance to observe, Nero hung back as they entered the dining hall, watching as the blonde woman threw her arms around March, pressing smacking kisses to his dark cap of hair. The other, with the same striking complexion as March, held his hands in a tight grip, and seemed to be murmuring affection in his ear until her turn to embrace him. He'd seen them at balls and events here and there, and was sure he'd even had a conversation or two with the blonde.

"Neroki, this is my mother, Amalie, my motra, Roman, and my brother, Myca."

Giving a small bow, Nero affixed a smile on his face to bring out his dimples. "Honored to be formally introduced."

They made small talk about the weather, if their trip was pleasant, and how pleased they all were to see each other. Nero apologized profusely for their lateness, explaining that he'd gotten caught up with a little project, losing track of time. Though Amalie insisted it was nothing to worry about, he couldn't help but notice the studied coolness emanating from Roman, and the glaringly noticeable interest from Myca.

"Where's Beritz?" Amalie asked, glancing around.

"He was supposed to be here," Nero explained. "But he may have gotten caught up with something. If you're all ready for lunch, I can have us served while we wait for him."

As predicted, Beritz strolled into the smaller dining hall shortly after lunch was served to the guests. He greeted Amalie and Roman with enthusiasm, introducing himself to Myca as well, pleasantly surprised at the younger Cesari's complete lack of shyness. But knowing his father, Nero could see the slight strain in his eyes. He wasn't surprised when the king asked to speak to him alone, pulling him to the other side of the room so they could speak in hushed tones.

March's brow furrowed a bit as he watched Neroki's reaction to whatever Beritz was telling him. He couldn't hear their words, but the prince looked unhappy, shaking his head firmly.

"March," Roman spoke up, pulling his attention back to her. "Tell us what you've been doing all this time."

Reciting a list of the subjects he'd studied in the weeks he'd been at the castle, March realized the three months of his offer was already halfway over. The thought gave him a strange unraveling sensation in his stomach. Hoping it wouldn't show on his face, he forced a smile.

"Very impressive," Amalie remarked. "Now, aren't you glad you decided to come?"

"Yes."

Glancing over at the king and prince to make sure they were still out of earshot, Roman leaned forward a bit. "And what of Prince Nero? How are you finding him?"

"He's, um, very nice." Uncomfortable with the idea of omitting information from his parents, he was far more uncomfortable with the idea of being honest about how their relationship had been developing.

"Really?" Roman sounded surprised. "I thought he was a crude, lackadaisical playboy."

"He is," March countered, not embarrassed by his initial impression of the prince. "But he's also very kind. He's been very generous to me."

Raising her dark eyebrows, Roman glanced over to Amalie, who looked to be suppressing a smile at her wife's obvious misgivings. "Have you spent much time with him?"

"Some," March said. It was an answer vague enough that he didn't feel like he was lying, but also didn't quite betray the closeness they'd developed.

"You've gone on dates?" Amalie asked.

"Yes." Refusing to be embarrassed by his response, March straightened his posture a bit. That was why he was here, at any rate. There was absolutely no reason he should feel flustered to admit it.

"Such as?"

"Parties, walks, meals," March moved a shoulder. "Things like that. I…" He hesitated, but remembering Neroki's words about how he should embrace his interests bolstered him. "I've been looking into botany. I've attended some lectures about it, and… Neroki has taken me around to show me some of the local flora. I've been collecting it."

"That's lovely!" Amalie said. "You'll have to show us your collection."

"Is he a good kisser?" Myca asked, not bothering to hush his voice.

"M-Myca!" March hissed out, his dignified facade blasted apart by the color rising to his face. His eyes darted over to Nero and Beritz again, who were still engrossed in their conversation.

"So he is?" Myca pressed, grinning. He'd missed taunting March. It was always so easy to get a reaction out of him. When March only glared, Roman cocked an eyebrow. She knew her son well enough to know he would have vehemently denied the accusation, if it wasn't rooted in truth.

"Can't you make him stop?" March asked, looking to his mother for help.

"Myca, stop teasing your brother." The sentence came out almost automatically, having been spoken too many times to count. Then, seeing the slightly unnerved look in her wife's prismatic eyes, Amalie laid a hand on hers. They'd have a lot to talk about once they were out of March's presence.

"I'm not teasing him, I'm genuinely curious. He looks like he would be, that's all."

Lowering his forehead to his palm, March sighed. "I had wine," he said, hoping to change the subject to something less embarrassing.

"Did you like it?" Amalie asked, a slightly amused note in her voice. Roman, on the other hand, found the idea of her straight-laced son drinking wine and kissing a man who was a relative stranger to him very daunting indeed.

"I did," March said. "But not the next morning." There was no reason he had to admit it had been this morning that he'd suffered the punishing after-effects of the drink.

Amalie gave a soft laugh, and because March's slightly abashed face demanded it, she leaned across the table to kiss his forehead. "It's wonderful you're experiencing new things, dear. I can see that you're learning a lot."

Nodding, he used his fingers to fix his bangs, where her lips had mussed them out of place. The gesture, so typical of March, soothed Roman a little but not much.

Shortly after, Nero and Beritz returned to their table, Beritz apologizing profusely for his lack of punctuality, and his apparent early exit.

"It's quite alright," Amalie assured him. "Emergencies happen."

He hurried out, promising to join the family for dinner. March wanted desperately to know what their conversation had been about, why Neroki had looked so agitated, but he knew he would have to wait to ask.

Slipping into the seat on March's side, Nero gave the two women across from them a somewhat apologetic smile. "Downside of ruling over a kingdom," he quipped, as if it were the most relatable and natural thing in the world. Roman's eyes flickered to his elbow, where he'd so casually set it up on the table, brushing against the side of March's arm.

"Nero," Myca started, giving enough of a pause for March to give him a very satisfying glare filled with lethal warning. "Have you taken March to see any dragons yet?"

"A few times, actually." Nero answered, unable to suppress a laugh at the boy's groan of envy. "I've taken him riding, too."

"That's so cool! I want to see them!"

"I'd be happy to take you in, if you'd really like to." Nero offered.

"Really?!" Myca slapped his hands on the table, bouncing a little with his excitement. "Could I ride one?"

"Ah," Nero glanced over at the women.

"Absolutely not," Roman replied. Imagining March on the back of a dragon had her stomach pitching. She'd be damned if she'd let this too-charming prince put her other son on one.

Myca sighed, rolling his eyes. He'd expected that answer, so didn't grumble too much over it. "Okay, well can we go now?" He tugged at March's sleeve, urging him up. "Please?" When March shifted to stand, Roman's hand laid over his, stopping him.

"Actually, March, I'd like to speak with you alone," she said. Amalie winced, almost imperceptibly, at the tone.

Nero stared awkwardly, from March to each of his parents. "I can, er…"

"Can I just go?" Myca asked impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Since you guys want to talk or whatever."

"I don't mind, really," Nero inserted, already endeared to the younger Cesari brother's firecracker energy. And wanting more than anything to be away from the awkward tension pulsing between March and his parents. "If you'd like some private time."

"That's kind of you, Your Highness." Amalie said, forcing a smile, pretending she couldn't feel disapproval radiating off her wife. She turned to Myca, giving him a very stern look. "Behave."

"Yeah, sure," Myca waved her off, scampering to Nero's side. "Okay, so be honest, how fast have you gone on one of them?"

They headed off, rounding the corner to the entrance to the dragon's domain, the sound of Myca's excited questions lingering long after they disappeared from view.

Somewhat horrified by the idea of Myca being alone with Neroki and trying not to imagine all the embarrassing things Myca could say about him, March could only frown, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you mad at me?" He asked Roman, unable to conceal the note of soreness in his voice.

"You think I'm mad at you?"

"I can see that you are. I just don't understand why."

"I'm not angry," she denied, her voice perfectly level, a contrast to his agitated tone. "I'm just…"

"Disappointed," March decided. He scoffed, glowering down at the table.

"Honey, no one is disappointed in you," Amalie said. Moving around the table, she took the seat that Nero had left, putting an arm around March's shoulder. "It's wonderful that you're acclimating so well. We were worried you would want to leave."

"Well, I don't."

"You're acclimating too well," Roman said, mistrust dripping from every syllable.

"Roman," Amalie breathed out, looking incredulous.

"This isn't like you, March." Her tone softened a bit, and he could see that her unease came from a place of worry. "You're too comfortable with him."

"You don't even know him, or the way I am with him." Pouting, he was eternally grateful for that fact, wondering if her heart would explode in her chest if she could have seen how they'd been wrapped up together only an hour earlier.

"I don't have to know him. I know you."

"This is what you wanted!" He snapped, defensively. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of a lecture, or an accusatory remark. "Do you remember that? You both wanted me to come here."

"Honey," Amalie said again, giving him a squeeze. "Calm down." Shifting her gaze to her spouse across the table, her brows furrowed together.

"It's unfair!" He protested, wanting to yank away from her embrace. "I've done everything you wanted, and still I'm being interrogated."

"I'm not interrogating you," Roman said calmly, making his childish outburst sound even worse. "Your tantrum is only proving my point."

Knowing she was right, he inhaled deeply, willing himself to relax, degree by degree. "Just so I understand, please explain to me what exactly you're unhappy about."

"I'm only worried about you, March. It's easy to get sucked into a whirlwind in a place like this."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You're staying in a castle, as a guest of a king. You're living out what would be a fantasy to most people. It's easy to give in to pressure when everything seems like a dream."

"Give in to pressure." He shook his head, snorting out a bitter laugh. "That's very subtle. Why don't you just ask me what you really want to ask?"

"I don't need to ask you anything," she countered smoothly. "I trust you, March. You've never given us a reason not to."

"If that's true, then why am I being lectured?"

"March," Amalie chided him softly. "No one is attacking you. Your motra just wants to make sure you won't do something you regret."

"Why do you assume I'd do something I regret?" The pair of them glanced at each other again, silently wondering if they should be honest. "Tell me!" He demanded.

"It's nothing to do with you," Amalie finally voiced. "It's only that since the two of you have been seen together, we've been hearing things."

"What kind of things?" March asked, face twisting with puzzlement. There were things he definitely didn't want his parents knowing about, but there was no way any of those would be subject for public gossip.

"It seems Prince Nero has a bit of a reputation among the upper crust of the noble families. A rather crass reputation."

"I told you that," March deadpanned, unimpressed. He'd finished his journey through the stages of grief regarding Neroki's sexual past, and didn't appreciate having it thrown in his face. Particularly by someone who didn't even really know him. "I understand your concern, but please trust me to make my own decisions." Taking a deep breath, he stared intensely into Roman's eyes. "I've earned that."

"I know you have," Roman said. Sighing, she moved around the table to him as well. Though he stiffened, she didn't allow him to squirm free of her arms around him. "I love you, March. You know that."

"I know."

"I told you before," Roman said, running a hand down his arm. "We'll support you no matter what. I just don't want to see you hurt after all this."

"I know." Squeezing his eyes closed, he gave in, hooking his arms around her. "I'll be okay. I promise. Don't worry about me."

"It's our job to worry about you," Amalie said gently, relieved that the tension had passed.

"I understand. I do." He thought back to how hard it had been for him to accept things about Neroki's past. It had taken time, and effort, to rub away those frightening aspects of the prince and replace them with the parts that he was now so enamored by. He couldn't blame them for feeling the way they did. "But I can take care of myself. I promise." The words were heavy with conviction that he didn't quite feel inside.

"What do you think your brother is doing right now?" Amalie asked suddenly, pleased when the melancholy vanished from March's face.

"Considering the possibilities might be too much for me at the moment," he admitted flatly. "It's ironic that you worry so much about what I might do, but you let Myca go traipsing off with him without a care in the world."

"Myca can take care of himself, honey. You know that."

And what did that say about him, he wondered. Unwilling to ponder it further, he sighed, resting his chin in his hands until they returned.

NERO HAD EXPECTEDto feel somewhat awkward with Myca, walking the same path he'd so recently walked with March, but soon realized his worries were completely unwarranted. The deliberate steps of he and March's sedate stroll felt like a different activity entirely, compared to Myca's frenetic energy. He led the conversation with ease, hopping from subject to subject as he pleased, sometimes with seemingly no segue. Occasionally, he would skip ahead of Nero on the path, turning to face him as they talked, taking backwards steps.

At first glance Nero had been surprised at how alike they looked, but soon found their features had many more differences than first apparent. Myca lacked March's preternatural grace, and didn't seem to agonize over every gesture and expression. As a result, it was easy to notice that one of his front teeth had a slight chip in it, and that there was a small scar at the end of one of his dark brows. The flaws didn't do much to detract from his universally appealing beauty, though. If anything, they added a touch of honesty to what would have been an otherwise perfect face. It seemed meticulously sculpted features ran in the family. He could suddenly understand the urge to preserve Cesari genes.

In his thoughts, Nero made it very clear to Perrin that he wasn't to meet them. It was obvious that Myca was itching to disobey the strict order he'd been given not to ride any dragons, and Perrin had the sinister, exciting look he knew would be too tempting for the young teenager. Instead, hoping to quell the young boy's urge, he led him in the direction of Athyna and Bryndr.

His reaction to meeting the mother, Athyna, a pale-colored dragon with more rounded features than some of the others, was authentic and unfiltered joy. Her baby, Bryndr, still only the size of a small horse, romped around with Myca in pure bliss. As they played off in the distance, though not too far, Nero stroked Athyna's neck, murmuring to her as they conversed about various topics of conversation.

When it seemed like enough time had passed, Nero asked him back. To his surprise, the headstrong teenager didn't put up much of a fight, only giving a resigned sigh. It seemed though he didn't like it, he was used to being ordered around.

The conversation, which had mostly centered around dragons and life as a prince up until that point, took a slight turn on their way back.

"So listen," Myca started, once again walking backward to face Nero as he spoke. "Are you and March, like, really into each other?"

Tucking his tongue in his cheek, Nero raised an eyebrow. "We're getting along well, I think."

"Cut the uptight act," Myca suggested. "My parents aren't here. I know that's not really how you are."

Considering, Nero felt his mouth twitch into a smirk. "We're into each other."

"Ugh," Myca exhaled, rolling his eyes. "He's so boring, though. I bet he didn't even want to ride a dragon. You had to talk him into it, didn't you?"

"He's cautious," Nero agreed carefully. "But that's part of his charm, isn't it?"

"I would have done it, you know," Myca said, but gave a shrug. "But I don't want to get you in trouble with my parents. Just in case."

"You're not worried about getting yourself in trouble with them?"

The corner of Myca's mouth perked up, his eyes sparkling suddenly. "They don't know everything I do."

"Ah," Nero blinked, unsure of what to say. Though Myca was young enough that his body was still wand slim with undeveloped muscle tone, his voice still tinged with a mildly youthful innocence, the mischievous sensuality he was exuding from his eyes seemed to belong to someone much older. Then, almost as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by childish excitement. "Just be careful. Sometimes parents know best."

"I guess," he said, in a non-committal sort of way. "I know how to take care of myself."

"There isn't a doubt in my mind," he promised. "March worries about you, you know."

"He worries about everything," Myca replied, keeping his voice light. But the prince could see a shadow pass over his pretty, chromatic eyes. "What did he say about me, anyway?"

"Not much," Nero said honestly. "Just that he worries what you're going to do when you get to be of age."

"He needs to chill. I'm fine."

"Oh, good. I'm sure that'll put his mind at ease."

Myca laughed at the prince's ultra-serious tone. "I already told him I'm not doing the whole offer thing. It's torture."

"Torture?"

"You should see the stack of marriage offers for him we have sitting in our kitchen. I'm not kidding, it's like this high." He gestured around his waist to indicate the height of the pile. "We've gotten like a hundred more in the mail since he left."

"Is that so?"

His jealousy must have been obvious in his voice, because Myca scoffed in response to it. "Don't worry, they're all really boring. They don't have anything to offer him other than a name and genetics and money."

"Those things are important to him."

"I guess that's true," Myca conceded. "But not to me. I'll jump off a cliff before I marry somebody like that."

Nero could understand the sentiment whole-heartedly. "Listen. If you're not able to talk your parents out of it, and they really want to make you go through with it… Come find me. Whether March and I are together or not, I'll help you."

"You'd do that? For me?" Myca asked, youthful voice alight with awe. When the prince nodded, he blew out a breath. "So I already pretty much know what you're going to say to this, but just in case you decide March is too much of a drag for you, I'll be of age in four years. Well, four and a few months."

Coughing into his hand, Nero kept his eyes pinned firmly on the trees above them. "That's, uh, flattering."

"This whole dragon enclosure thing is too awesome. I wish we had more time to check everything out."

"If I can convince March to stay, then you can spend all the time you want here."

"That would be cool," Myca nodded, giving a careless shrug. "But just so you know, you wouldn't have to convince me."

Someone, someday, Nero thought, would be very lucky to have such an appealing bundle of energy in their arms. He found himself oddly looking forward to seeing who the little hellion would choose for a mate, down the road.

"I'll keep it in mind."

"Yeah, right." Myca gave the prince a wry smile. "I know you're just trying to be nice to me, but I can see you're all boned up for him. You're not hurting my feelings or anything."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too clever for your own good?"

"Yeah, but only the people that are too dumb for their own good." Myca tilted his head, blinking his long lashes innocently, as if in challenge.

Laughing, Nero could only shake his head. Rather than fight with a dull sword, he dropped a hand on the boy's shoulder, pulling him back to a position beside him as they walked.