Chapter 9

GLAD THAT HE'Dhad the forethought to pack a coat despite how the weather had begun warming, March kept it folded over his arm as he made his way out of the castle and toward the guarded enclosure where Neroki had asked to meet him. He imagined the prince could have lent him one if he'd needed it, but that sort of chivalric gesture smacked too close to the easy intimacy of two people who were actually courting, in March's mind. He preferred to imagine how he might not mind that kind of thing when he would go on real dates one day, rather than remembering the terrifying thing he was about to do. And on the grounds of a defeat he'd been tricked into.

Better not to think about that part, he thought, sighing internally. It was entirely his fault for not examining Neroki's words more carefully before agreeing to them. He should have known better, but if there was anything he felt unshakably confident in, it was archery. Still, it wasn't as though he'd lost in a game of archery. He'd really only lost in a game of deceitful wordplay.

He recognized that he should have been upset about being misled, but he couldn't seem to summon up any real anger about it. It was probably because Neroki hadn't rubbed it in or made any sort of fuss about it. He'd seem resigned to it, March remembered, resisting the urge to squirm. Was he really being so unapproachable, even after he'd apologized for making things difficult?

So he'd play nice, he decided, even though getting on the back of a dragon was probably the most reckless, moronic thing he'd ever done or would do. Despite the warning signals that flashed like neon signs in his head, he could sense that Neroki was serious about not letting anything happen to him, so he'd be fine. Probably. But it couldn't completely rid him of the dread slicking around his guts as he passed the uniformed guards at the stone gate.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the chill that snaked up his spine was an immediate reminder that he hadn't come back to the enclosure since the incident. It was true that he was still mortally embarrassed about having to be rescued from a precocious baby dragon by the Dragon Prince himself, but if he was honest, that wasn't the true reason he hadn't returned since. He was sure he'd felt eyes on him that day, ominous eyes that had bored through him, and had disappeared in a flash of light when he'd looked in their direction. He'd had dreams about that feeling. Dreams that had him shooting up from his pillow, fists clenched, slick with sweat.

Pushing the nightmares from his mind, he noted that Neroki was already waiting for him, leaning against Perrin in a casual stance. He had a leather bag strapped across his chest resting on his hip. Glancing up at March, the prince reached into the bag, and pulled out a pair of gloves.

"Here, you'll probably need these when we get up there."

Surprised a bit by the gesture, the raven-haired male expressed his thanks before rolling them into the coat and holding the bundle against his chest. Steeling his courage, he raised his eyes up to meet the inky, depth-less eyes of the dragon.

"Hello, Perrin."

Hello, young March Cesari. I'm pleased to see you again, under these more pleasant circumstances.

Though March wasn't entirely sure he could agree the circumstances were particularly pleasant, he gave a nod and forced a small smile onto his face, despite the jitters in his stomach. "Thank you. It's good to see you too."

While I can understand your unease, I assure you that you have nothing to fear. Nero and I have flown together hundreds of times.

"And how many times with a second rider?" March wondered, hoping an extra body wouldn't add to the danger factor.

"Ah," Nero's brows furrowed together for a moment as the noble's question sank in. "None, actually."

"Really?"

"Well, I haven't had a reason to," Nero said quickly, and maybe a tad defensively. It hadn't occurred to him until that moment that he'd never asked anyone to ride with him before. He'd ridden Sezlyth with his father as a kid, when he'd still been learning, but no one since.

"And you have a reason now?" March questioned. The prince's reaction to his innocent question was awkward, and they both knew it. Worse yet, the realization that he was the only person Neroki had ever asked to do this had his pulse tumbling inside him, adding layers to his nervousness.

"Well…" Nero scratched the back of his head, glancing up and away for a moment. "Yes, actually. Here." Reaching into the bag again, he pulled out a rectangular object wrapped in plain white paper. "I got this for you."

"You… Bought this, for me?" March repeated, turning it over in his hands with a bit of awe. "Should I open it now?"

"Go ahead." Why was his stomach in knots just watching someone accept a gift? It wasn't even particularly expensive or special.

Grasping the string tied around the item, March pulled it away and carefully unwrapped it, eyes widening as he realized it was a book with a simple but elegant print of pale gold filigree on the front. When he opened it, the pages were thick, made of high quality paper, but completely blank.

"It's to press flowers in," Nero explained, the stretch of silence and March's lack of reaction digging into his skin like a nagging itch. "Or plants, or whatever. You can preserve them and write down your observations, or where you first saw it, or… You know, whatever." When the pretty male finally looked back up from the book, his eyes were wide and unguarded. The colors in them, liquefied opal, tossed Nero's own reflection back at him.

"This is very thoughtful." The noble's voice was soft, unsure. He remembered how excited he'd been at the idea of owning this very thing. It was lovely, with a finely crafted cover that smacked of luxury, nicer than he'd even imagined. But he'd decided not to pursue the interest, hadn't he? So why was he so touched, and so thrilled by the gift? "It's really perfect, actually. Thank you."

Relief coursed through Nero in waves, letting his jaw unclench. "I'm glad you like it. I hope you'll think of it like a peace offering."

"I love it." The words came tumbling out before March could think about whether he should let them. "How did you know I wanted this?"

Hesitant, Nero tucked his tongue into his cheek as his mind raced with justifications. "Well, it seemed like you were into it when we were out here looking at plants, and then I saw you'd checked out a few more books about it after the botany lecture you went to." Each word compounded his guilt until it was a tight ball in his stomach. The prince sighed, the sigh ending on a harsh groan. Normally he didn't mind a few white lies to keep the peace, but… Something about the soft vulnerability in the pretty noble's expression and body language urged him to be honest. "Look, I don't want to lie to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Last week when you were in the woods by yourself, before Bryndr came along… Perrin and I were over by the lake."

What young Nero is trying to express is that because of my telepathy, I was able to hear your thoughts very clearly, as well as the thoughts of Bryndr and Athena. That is how Nero and I knew to come and help you.

Touched by Perrin's automatic defense of him, Nero laid a hand on the dragon's scaly shoulder, but shook his head a little.

"He's just trying to make me look better," he explained. "I asked him what you were thinking about, and he told me. It was unacceptable on my part, and I'm sorry."

March blinked a few times, the shock of the statement cracking through the lovely little bubble of contentment the considerate gift had spread over his brain. "You spied on my private thoughts?"

The question was simple, but brutally effective at drilling into Nero's constitution. "It was wrong of me. I know that. I have no excuse, but I did it because it's hard trying to make this work when I have no idea what you're thinking or feeling. And talking to you feels impossible sometimes."

Though he hadn't voiced it, March was sure that they were both remembering his apology that day for making things so difficult between them. Did he have the right to be angry at Nero when he'd been the one sabotaging communication between them?

"Was that the only time?"

"Yes," Nero answered without hesitation. "I swear."

Inhaling deeply, the noble rocked back a little on his heels, clutching the bundled coat to his chest as he considered. It was an undeniable invasion of his privacy. The distinct knowledge that he'd been violated in some manner, though indirect and without true malice, was blatantly clear. But intent should be considered too, shouldn't it? But were these his own independent thoughts, or was he being influenced by the wily charm that Neroki was so infamous for?

Going forward purely on his instinct, March kept his eyes lowered, long lashes swept over them. "If you can forgive me for how I've acted, then I'll forgive you for invading my privacy. You were right before. There's no reason for this to be so difficult."

Nero wasn't entirely sure that statement still applied, but he gave a curt nod in response, relieved that March was willing to let it go. "I appreciate it more than you know."

"Show your appreciation by keeping me alive."

Despite the tension his confession had pumped into the air around them, Nero chuckled at the request. "Cross my heart. You'll not only survive, you'll thank me for having you do this."

March doubted it, but he knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. "Show me how you'd like me to… Begin," he finished, deliberately avoiding the first two words that had come to mind, mount and ride.

"Give me this first," Nero said, taking the book from March's hands and tucking it carefully back into the bag he'd brought it in. Recalling how his father had ensured his safety when they'd ridden together so long ago, Nero couldn't help but smirk a little. He knew what position they'd need to be in so he could ensure March wouldn't get hurt, but… He hoped the prim noble's charitable attitude would hold out for that.

In a fluid, practiced sort of move for both of them, Perrin lowered his large body to the ground while Nero hooked his foot up and onto the dragon's muscular forearm. Obligingly, Perrin lifted it to allow the prince to heave himself up and onto the scaly shoulders. Once he'd settled into a familiarly comfortable position, one leg on either side of the creature's broad back, Nero slid his eyes down to March's waiting form.

When the prince gave the area directly in front of him a very pointed pat, March could hardly resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course."

"How else am I supposed to keep you from falling off?" Nero countered, but there was no denying that having the fair-faced male nestled between his thighs wouldn't exactly be a hardship for him.

"Is this what you had in mind back when we first met?" March wondered aloud, taking a step forward to delicately lay a hand on Perrin's scales.

Nero raised an eyebrow as he tried to recall exactly what his 15-year-old self had had in mind upon first meeting the stuffy teenager with a doll's perfect face. "Probably not," he admitted.

"So you didn't want to go riding with me, despite your very inappropriate offer," March determined, frowning a bit as he tried putting his foot up and onto the little dip in the muscles of Perrin's radius.

You can put your weight onto me, young March. I assure you that you are far too light to cause me any discomfort.

"Here," Nero offered, holding out a hand. Grasping it firmly, March used the prince's surprising strength to help anchor him up and into a standing position onto Perrin's outstretched arm. Carefully maneuvering his way onto the dragon's back, March mentally commanded every cell in his body to cooperate and keep him from blushing or stammering or any other embarrassing thing as he wriggled back into the spot the prince had indicated for him to be. "Not so bad, right?" Nero asked, leaning in close as he reached past March's body to grasp onto Perrin's neck with his right hand, wrapping around the noble's body with his left.

"Neroki," March growled out a warning as the prince's hand made its way to the upper part of his thigh, resting there.

"Where would you like me to keep my hand?" Nero asked, glad the noble was facing away and couldn't see his expression.

"Above my navel would be ideal."

"Whatever you say," he responded agreeably, shifting his hand up to grasp the slender indentation of March's waist. But he couldn't resist rubbing the pad of his thumb up and down the noble's ribs. "You know, maybe this was what I had in mind back then. Part of it, anyway."

Suppressing the urge to shiver at the feeling of Neroki's thumb, again hot even through the fabric of his tunic, March was torn between focusing on that or the feeling of Perrin's muscles shifting and flexing beneath him. "And the other part?"

"You sure you want to know about that?"

"Forget I asked."

Are you ready to take off, young March?

"I'm not sure, Perrin," he admitted, but took a deep breath. "But we can go now."

Perrin's wings unfurled into massive sheets of leather, sweeping gigantic arcs through the air, sending leaves and dirt rippling. It was a feeling unlike any March had known, rising up into the air, past the treetops and up towards the clouds. With an involuntary shudder, he found himself gripping Nero's arm to his chest.

"You have your eyes closed, don't you?" Nero murmured, unsure what to do with the thrill pulsing into his bloodstream. It was, as always, a joyful kind of freedom hurtling up into the sky on Perrin's back. A different sort of thrill, a darker sort, had crept into him as March's hands dug into his arm, inadvertently pulling them closer together.

"I don't want to look."

"Trust me, you want to look."

Only because it wasn't technically any less safe, March assured himself, and not because Neroki's voice was so compelling, like wine-laced honey flowing into his ears and warming him. When he was finally able to pry open his stubbornly clenched eyelids, his breath rushed out in a whoosh, then back in with a delighted gasp.

The ground below was sharp with eye-watering color, though they were so high now that even the large patches of forests looked small. Their leaves were emerald, along with the sheets of grass, broken up by sapphire lakes and topaz patches of sand. The color of the sky and clouds around them was more delicate and muted, like shimmering, wet silk. Thick shafts of sunlight carved their way through the soft sheets of clouds, warming their skin with gentle flashes of heat as they passed through.

"Well? Was I right, sweetheart?" Nero asked, after giving the noble a few moments to process the gorgeous scenery. Remembering the tiny glistening speckles that could only be seen in March's eyes when there was a light shining into them, Nero suddenly wished they were facing each other.

Too in awe to argue or downplay the moment, March let out a soft sigh before speaking. "It's very beautiful." He felt unbelievably special at being allowed to see the earth in this fashion, but wasn't sure how to express it. Whether it was because he was softened by the intense beauty around them, or because he felt grateful to the prince for showing it to him, March wasn't sure, but when he felt Neroki's chin come to rest on his shoulder, arms shifting a bit so the hold resembled more of an embrace, he couldn't bring himself to complain. But his heart thundered into a gallop. He prayed Neroki's hand wouldn't drift up enough to feel it beating madly inside him.

Only a little surprised that he hadn't been pushed away, Nero decided not to push his luck by pressing his lips to the noble's lovely line of exposed nape, though the instinct to do so washed over him with more than a hint of ferocity. If he'd had someone else, anyone else, in his arms, he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist. Ironically, he was beginning to realize he wanted the raven-haired patrician more than he'd wanted any of the aristocrats he'd had in his arms before. But even with the intensity of his desire, there was another instinct, something new for him, that urged him to protect.

I'm glad your fears seem mostly to have dissipated, young March. In truth, I was worried that my flight wouldn't be gentle enough.

"Oh, no, Perrin," he managed to breathe out. "It's perfect. I'm honored, really."

They broke through the glimmering sheen of clouds, tilting forward a bit as the winged beast made a gentle dip toward the craggy, heliotrope mountains. It wasn't snowing, even at the highest tips, but the pure white frost that clung to the stone peaks suggested it hadn't long been finished.

The landing was graceful, thanks to Perrin's experience with having a human rider. Only slightly regretting that he'd have to let go of the warm, soft body he clung to, Nero carefully slid down the dragon's side, landing with a soft thud into the fluffy snow. It condensed under his boots, crunching down into a denser frost. Taking March's hand to assist him in dismounting, he took the coat from the noble's arms and helped him into it before shrugging into his own.

These touches were too casual, too proprietary, March thought with a mild sense of panic, as Neroki told Perrin they'd be back in a little bit, that he should fly around if he got bored. But they were gentle, and chivalrous, dripping with tenderness. Not the bold, arrogant way he'd felt the prince grab him before. Acknowledging it, even in his own mind, had him feeling uncomfortably warm, despite the chill in the air.

"Do you hike up here a lot?" March asked, as they made their way down a gently sloping trail lined with evergreen trees.

"A fair bit," Nero responded. "Don't worry, it's a short walk to what I've got in mind for you."

"You don't think I'm in shape enough for a hike?" March asked, immediately regretting the question when the prince turned back to him, obviously appraising his figure for a brief moment with his honeyed gaze.

"Out of shape is the last thing I'd call you. It's just that you're not wearing the boots for it. And I didn't pack what we'd need for that."

"Another time, then," March said, surprised to find that he meant it.

"Alright." Nero's voice was light, agreeable, but the thrill that spurted into him at the simple statement was anything but light. "For now, I thought this would be a good starting point for your book."

Before March could question the meaning of his statement, they had to duck down under a fanning branch and into a small clearing. Despite the shallow layer of powdery snow dotting the ground, there were fat clusters of flowers, red as rubies and shaped like stars, scattered about the cozy little glade.

"Winter clover," Nero explained, before he could ask. "They only grow where it's really cold, so there's fields of them up in Ironchill, but not much anywhere else." Ironchill was a faraway kingdom to the north that March didn't know much about, basically the polar opposite of his Kesmos. But he knew what winter clover was. Anyone who'd ever celebrated a winter holiday did.

"My mom makes these out of paper and strings them up all over the house for the winter solstice," March said, trying not to sound too wistful or nostalgic. "I never thought I'd actually see any in person. Not where we live."

"Even all the way up here, these will be gone soon and won't come back until winter. Didn't want you to miss the opportunity to put one in your book."

"Oh!" March finally realized the reason the prince had insisted on bringing him up to this very specific spot.

Very carefully, with the tiny scissors Neroki had brought along in his bag, March snipped off a particularly vivid bloom, meticulously closing the parchment-lined pages around it, and closing the book gently.

"We'll iron it when we get back," Nero stated, carefully tucking it into a side pocket of the bag at his hip. "You'll have the envy of every bloom collector in the kingdom," he joked. March grinned a bit, shaking his head.

"I might even have to hire a bodyguard."

"It's a brutal industry, flower collecting," the prince replied, with a mock somber tone. Glancing over at the raven-haired male to his side, he watched as the light smile faded from that pretty, pink mouth. "What's wrong?"

"Can I ask you something?" He asked suddenly, brows furrowing a bit. "And will you answer honestly?"

"I'll try my best," Nero answered, a bit apprehensively. "Here, let's sit in the sun so we don't freeze."

They sat on a broad, mostly flattened boulder, March's eyes swirling with dark tones as he considered his question.

"If you had Perrin listen to my thoughts, as you said, did he tell you how I planned on not going forward with this? With botany, I mean."

"I didn't have Perrin listen to your thoughts," Nero clarified quickly. "He'll hear them no matter what. I asked him to tell me what you were thinking, which was a mistake. But yes, he told me that part, too."

"So if you knew I didn't want to go further with it, why did you get me the book? And bring me up here?"

Dragging his tongue around his teeth, Nero tilted his head a bit. It was a fair question, but he thought the answer should be obvious. "From what I understood of Perrin's explanation, you made the decision to forget about it based on something else, not because you didn't want to." When March only stared at him, he went on. "Don't take this the wrong way, but it's stupid to take up a hobby you don't really like just to impress potential partners."

Despite Neroki's request that he not get offended, March felt himself bristle a bit. "It's stupid to learn to cook?"

"Not if you like cooking, which you don't. You like this."

"But this is-"

"You're the last person on the planet that needs to worry about attracting anyone. Believe me."

"That's easy to say, coming from a prince," March pointed out, his snap of temper already ebbing out under the flow of the compliment. "You'll never have to worry about finding a suitable partner. All the highborns are going to flock to you as soon as you're ready to settle down."

"Aren't they already flocking to you?" He pointed out, once again annoyed with the idea. "You said you had stacks of marriage offers already, right?"

"Those don't mean anything if I can't keep my husband happy once I choose him."

"March." Nero's tone was serious suddenly, the resonance in it snapping the fair-faced noble immediately to attention. "If your future husband wants you to forget the things that make you happy, and focus on something you don't enjoy just because it's convenient for him, then he's not even close to good enough for you. You're so worried about molding yourself into this perfect little package, but you haven't considered that most of these guys wouldn't even deserve you on your worst day."

Blinking in shock for a few moments, March felt his pulse fluttering helplessly inside him, like swarms of butterflies trapped in webs of the finest silk. "You're only saying that because you like how I look."

"No," Nero said simply, shifting his gaze away and up to the watery clouds above them. "I'm not."

He was wrong, March thought with a twinge of despair. He was the one who wasn't good enough to be sought after by the well-bred aristocrats asking for his hand. He, who couldn't even attend an official finishing school or formally train in the arts of charm or etiquette. He who'd grown up in a town of farmers and laborers, rarely able to attend the functions that a noble should attend. He who'd been so poorly socialized that he'd spent hours upon hours, day after day, month after month, for all of his teenage years, speaking to himself in a mirror to perfect his diction, his pronunciations. Despising the timid softness of his own voice, repulsed by the way his words would tangle up on his tongue, even when reading from a book.

But he'd been blessed with soft, smooth skin, with round eyes lined with plush lashes and plump lips that seemed to poke out into an attractive little pout, even when he wasn't trying to. He may not have been raised in the thick of the upper class, but he wasn't naive to its rules, either. His shortcomings would be secondary to his appearance, so attracting potential mates wouldn't be difficult for him at all.

But attracting suitors was only the first challenge. Once he chose who would be his mate, he would have to keep them happy. The thought of failing as a husband, as a father, had dread congealing in his stomach like black tar. The shame of a disappointed, disinterested partner was more than he thought he could bear. But Neroki wouldn't know that, he reasoned, because they didn't know each other very well. If he stayed at the castle long enough for them to get to know each other at that level, which he wouldn't, then the prince would begin to recognize his flaws too.

"That's flattering," March finally replied. "Thank you."

Rolling his eyes, Nero shook his head. "I've never heard someone sound so sad after getting a compliment."

"It's complicated," he responded defensively. "Just forget about it, okay?"

"How about this, then?" Nero stood, stalking over to the taller boulder March faced, and leaning back against it. "When you're gone, you can do whatever you want. But while you're here, don't worry about that stuff. I like seeing you smile, and hearing you laugh. I hate when you get this little line in between your eyebrows when you're worried." Saying so, he took a few steps forward and reached out to smooth his thumb over the area, amused by the shocked expression on the raven-haired male's face at the spontaneous touch.

"You…" Feeling heat rise to his face, March somehow found the strength to summon up a glare. "Why do you care what I do?"

"I just told you. I like seeing you happy. I told you before that we should be friends, since we're having to spend all this time together anyway."

"It's impossible for me to be friends with you when you're always going out of your way to embarrass me."

It was a fair point, Nero thought, but only tilted his head, sensing that now was a time for complete honesty. "I'm an asshole, I know. It's just that you're really cute when you're flustered."

"Like that!" March snapped, pushing away from the rock to sulk a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. "You're making fun of me."

"You think I'm making fun of you when I call you cute?"

"Yes! I know you are."

Nero blew out a breath, feeling a headache begin at the base of his skull. "To be clear, you don't think it's possible that maybe I just actually find you to be incredibly cute, and I'm not saying it to embarrass you?"

"It isn't relevant whether the statement is true or not," March gritted out from between his teeth. "You're deliberately trying to agitate me."

"Trying?" Nero asked, immediately amused by the sharp glare he received in response. "Alright. You don't like the way I communicate, and I don't like the way you nag me half to death. Why don't we just both say we'll try to do better, and call it a truce?" When March only eyed him cautiously, he shook his head, the ghost of a smile fluttering around his mouth. "We don't have to fall in love or anything. Let's just try to tolerate each other."

"Have I really been that much of a burden?" The noble wondered out loud, somewhat guilty. "That you're calling for a truce, as if we're countries battling in a war?"

"Not a burden," Nero answered quickly. "You've never been a burden. Just… We should try to understand each other more. That's a fair request, isn't it?"

It was a fair request, though March was acutely aware that allowing himself to get closer to the charming prince was practically begging for disaster. Still, he couldn't find a polite way to decline the invitation. Much to his own surprise, he discovered he wasn't sure he even wanted to decline the request.

"A truce, then," he agreed, taking Neroki's hand when it was held out to him. The urge to curl his fingers into the prince's and intertwine them was so instinctive, he very nearly gave into it before his brain could comprehend it and deny the impulse. He'd pulled back then, keeping an appropriate distance on their walk back to Perrin, and as much of a distance as he could manage on the ride back to the castle.

But when he'd retreated back to his room that night, alone with nothing but his thoughts and the soft rustle of leaves outside his balcony, he wished his brain hadn't snapped down on the compulsion quite so quickly.