Chapter 10

WITH THE PAINSTAKINGLYformal letter gripped tightly in his tense fingers, Ash made a purposeful effort not to stomp through the halls of Ikronia Castle. His stormy looks had already turned the heads of several guards, leading him to be questioned on his identity and why he was there. Once he'd shown proof of who he was, he'd been allowed to go, since he'd already been approved by Nero to come and go as he pleased within the palace walls.

Part of him knew his animosity was unreasonable, but he couldn't help the displeasure that churned through him as he followed through with the change of plans he'd been essentially forced into making. It was rare for him to show flexibility once he'd decided on something, and to do so now, after he'd been verbally clawed at, had a particular sting. He wasn't a temperamental person by any stretch of the imagination, but even he could admit that Laurel's behavior had his emotions simmering.

The only aspect of the situation keeping him grounded was that despite the glacial chill of Laurel's insults, he'd been able to feel the hot pricks of humiliation behind them. And because he could fully understand the source of that humiliation, he knew he shouldn't resent the reaction. Even if it had been completely and unnecessarily cruel. If the sorcerer had possessed an inkling of how insanely difficult it had been for Ash to push him away then surely he wouldn't have been so incensed by it. But from his point of view, he'd simply been rejected, and that was that.

And it had been difficult, he thought, with only a little acerbity. Of course he'd wondered how it would be. He was only human, after all. But no amount of imagined scenarios had prepared him for the feeling of the prickly, irritable blonde melting against him in complete surrender. He hadn't put up an ounce of resistance, not even the artificial denials he knew some men and women insisted on portraying to try and absolve themselves of the sin of need.

It was a delightfully unexpected gift, to feel that complete and absolute trust from someone like Laurel. He hadn't anticipated it, hadn't known to prepare for the torrent of temptation that would swirl through him. And because he hadn't prepared for it, hadn't even considered how intensely his desire could ramp up through him, he'd panicked.

He had been right, Ash assured himself, to end the kiss before it had escalated into something deeper. But he should have been more gentle, more willing to explain his motivations. And apparently, apologizing had definitely not been the right choice there, either. Though he had been sorry.

Because it was already well into the afternoon, he knew that the newlyweds would be long gone, presumably snuggled up somewhere in nuptial bliss, but there was nothing that could be done about that.

Because he had convinced himself of that fact, he nearly jumped out of his skin when, as he was trying to attach his note to Nero's bedroom door, it opened. His gasp of alarm, which might have been embarrassing under another circumstance, was mercifully drowned out by March's startled shriek.

He'd been attacked and kidnapped, Ash remembered, watching as the dark-haired male scrambled back from him with panic in his oddly colorful eyes.

"Oh! Ash." Panting a little from the rush of exertion, March pressed a hand to his chest. "You startled me."

More than startled, Ash thought, feeling the erratic waves of lingering trauma pulsing out from around the new royal. "I'm sorry about that. I was just trying to leave a note for Nero."

"He's… He's with his father." Gasping breathlessly, March tried to align his thoughts while his anxiety rattled his brain. "Just a last minute talk before we leave."

Under a normal circumstance, Ash knew what he would do when faced with someone who was quite obviously skirting into the beginnings of a big fat PTSD-fueled panic attack. But on the other hand, he wasn't sure what etiquette dictated when that person was the crown prince's new husband. Worse yet, he could sense abject mortification mixed in with March's mental and emotional upheaval. He wasn't used to showing an imperfection, and he was clearly not a fan of doing so.

"Here, let me help you." Etiquette be damned, Ash couldn't stand to watch someone suffer when he could help. Shoving the note in the pocket of his jacket, he stepped inside, carefully laying a hand on March's upper arm, an implied gesture of support. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I…" Because he was in no position to refuse the request, March let himself be led to the massive bed in the center of the room, taking a seat on it. His skin had a light sheen of sweat now, despite the shivers he felt wracking him.

"You're having a panic attack."

"I know. I… This just happens sometimes now." His tone was very nearly apologetic as he struggled to get his words out between shallow, rapid breaths. Of course he would think to apologize, Ash thought, fascinated.

Pulling a chair up beside the bed, he sat, watching March carefully. "I can help calm you down, if you'd like."

"You want to use magic on me?"

"Nothing scary," the healer promised. "Just something to calm you down. I feel responsible," he explained. "I hate to think about causing you so much stress before you leave for your honeymoon."

"It isn't your fault. But… If you think it will help…"

"Why don't you lay down?" Ash suggested. "It'll help you catch your breath."

Once he'd wiggled down into a horizontal position, Ash slowly let a mist seep out from the tips of his fingers, laying one of his hands back on the smaller male's arm. The link required to soothe a symptom was immensely less intensive than the link he'd need to cultivate with Laurel in order to mitigate the source of the trauma. Because of that, and because March's aura was so delicate and effortless to penetrate, no more difficult than pushing through a pile of snowflakes and feathers, it was easy for him to open the channel between them and disperse the shaky tension within.

"Your aura is very light," he said, watching the physical signs of agitation slowly begin to fade from March's body as his calming spell glided through him. "You're not very guarded, are you?"

"I suppose not," March admitted. His voice was calmer now, his breaths coming in steady. "You must think this is ridiculous, having worked with so many people who've been hurt so badly." Almost immediately, he could feel his muscles relaxing, degree by degree. It was a perplexing sensation, being dipped into, but he couldn't call it unpleasant.

"Not at all," Ash assured him. "I think what you went through was very traumatic, but I can tell you've come a long way in healing already. You're obviously very strong."

"But you just said my aura is weak."

"It's light," Ash corrected him. "Not weak. You have a different kind of strength, that's all."

When the worst of the dread seemed to dissolve inside him like a fine powder, March found his eyelids to be heavy, far too heavy to stay up. And within moments, he had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Returning to the room to find March passed out on the bed, with Ash practically hovering over him, Nero reminded himself how he'd promised to stop jumping to conclusions, and stop reacting with blind impulse.

"You know, when I gave you free rein to come and go around the castle as you like, that didn't include my bed."

"As cliché as it sounds, this isn't what it looks like. I actually came here to talk to you," Ash said, launching into his explanation before the prince could question him further. As he finished explaining the process he'd used, Nero's wry expression hadn't changed.

"You emotionally drugged my husband?" Nero asked flatly, stroking a hand over March's cap of glossy black hair. Still asleep, his chest rose and fell at a deeply relaxed pace.

"It's not really like that. Just a little calming spell to help him relax. I felt I owed it to him, since I had startled him so badly."

"How long is he going to be asleep?"

"Just a few minutes," the healer promised. Hoping to garner back some of the jealous and territorial prince's favor, Ash cleared his throat. "Actually, only really unguarded people tend to fall asleep from such a low level of the ability. He must feel very secure in his daily life, with you."

"I'd hope so," Nero said, giving him a very pointed look as he sat on the edge of the bed, laying a casual hand on March's still thigh. It wasn't a very subtle gesture, and Ash could clearly see it was meant to assert the fact that the lovely, fair-faced noble on the bed was for Nero and Nero only. Definitely the jealous type. "You said you had a letter for me?"

"I, ah…" He'd very nearly forgotten about the letter he'd been trying to leave. It seemed like a very inopportune time to address it now, seeing as the prince was already irritated with the fact that he'd sent his husband into a panic-fueled frenzy. "Well, I thought you'd be gone on your honeymoon already, so I wasn't actually expecting to talk to you."

"Is that it?" Nero finally noticed the paper partially sticking out from Ash's jacket. He held out a hand, impatiently clutching his fingers at it when the healer hesitated.

Though he no longer felt prepared for the discussion that was sure to follow, he handed it over, sticking his hands in his pockets while the letter was read.

"You're formally resigning?" Nero relayed the words from the page. "It's barely been two weeks."

"The situation with Laurel isn't what I expected it to be. This isn't going to work like we planned."

"What happened?" Nero asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did you sleep with him or something?"

The very unexpected question hit Ash's ears and crackled along his skin like needles. Narrowing his eyes, he had to gather his composure before he could give a retort. "I'd have to be very irresponsible and self-centered to take advantage of someone like Laurel in that way, I think."

Nero inclined his head, in a gesture Ash could clearly see was meant to warn him. "I've already been clear about the mistakes I've made with him, so spare me the lecture. And you don't need to get pissy with me about anything, it was just a question."

"I don't like having my ethics regarding a patient questioned." But because he could see now that Nero hadn't intended to offend him, Ash raked his hands over his face. "I'm sorry," he admitted, contrite. "I just came back from seeing him, and we had an argument, and he… I guess I'm just on edge."

Understanding now, he gave a slight but knowing nod. "Sniped at you, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you do to piss him off?"

With a deep sigh, Ash glanced up toward the ceiling. "He kissed me."

"You turned him down?" Nero asked in surprise, expelling a whoosh of breath when Ash nodded wryly. "Oh, boy. The worst thing you could do. You bruised his ego."

"I got that, thank you."

"Well… As much as you're kind of screwing me with this, I guess I can understand. I don't think he'd let you keep going with anything anyway, if you embarrassed him to that degree."

"Oh, I'm still going to treat him. I just can't get paid for it anymore. It's the only way this is going to work."

"I don't think Laurel's going to care very much whether you're making money or not. If he liked you, and you rejected him, I can promise he's not going to cooperate with you on any level. Particularly not the level you need to help him."

"I'm not rejecting him," Ash clarified. "I mean, I did pull away when he kissed me, but…" Hedging a bit on whether he should be open about the situation, he decided honesty was usually the best policy. And if he was going to make it work with Laurel, he guessed he and Nero would eventually become friends anyway. "To be clear, I do think there's something between us, and I plan on pursuing that. But that's why I can't take your money. The only way it's going to work is if I feel comfortable exploring that possibility with him. Otherwise, like you said, he's just going to clam up on me."

Surprised by the notion, Nero considered it. "Isn't that going to make everything kind of complicated?"

"Definitely. But that's just the way it has to be."

It was quiet for a minute as they reflected the weight of each other's words. March's soft, steady breaths broke up the silence while Nero considered his next sentence carefully.

"Look, Ash. You seem like a decent guy, and I mean this in the least condescending way possible, but Laurel has a lot of baggage. I know he seems healthy now, but-"

"No," Ash interjected. "He doesn't seem healthy to me at all. Maybe to you, or someone else that's not trained to see that kind of thing. But believe me, I'm more than aware that he's carrying a lot of trauma. I'm not afraid of that."

"I just don't want him to get hurt. He takes things really personally, in case you hadn't figured that out yet."

"I'm not going to hurt him."

"I know you don't mean to, but…" Eyes suddenly widening, Nero shook his head in disgust. "God, I sound like March's parents when I started courting him. Forget it, do whatever you want."

Grinning a little, Ash gave a shrug. "I know you're just looking out for him. You'll have to trust that I am, too."

With that settled, Nero carefully shifted so as not to disturb March's snoozing form. "So if you're not taking my money to stay in the city, are you still going to be renting a room at that inn?"

"I, uh…" He hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd been so incensed by Laurel's reaction, so frustrated with the situation, he'd basically scribbled down a few sentences and gone on his way.

"You should just stay here. At least until you figure something else out."

"Do I look like I need your charity that badly?"

"Relax," Nero said, eyebrows raised. "Just trying to help."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ash groused, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The thing from earlier, still. I'm not this much of a jerk usually, I swear."

"You know he didn't mean whatever he said, right? He's just good at picking out the right buttons to push. He's always been like that."

"That's brutal."

"My advice to you would be to figure out how to keep him happy or develop some thicker skin."

"Noted."

Because his heart was soft, and still floating on the dreamy wave of his wedding, Nero pushed again. "You really should just stay here, you know. There's tons of room, and it's closer to Laurel's house anyway." When Ash shifted on the heels of his worn boots, an uncertain look on his face, the prince sighed. "Think of it as a favor from me to him, if it makes you feel better about it. I want you helping him, remember?"

Because he had no other viable options, and because it would make it easier, Ash gave in. "I appreciate it."

ARMED NOW WITHthe pitcher of flowers Laurel had left in his former room and a bit of new knowledge, Ash approached Laurel's home. He'd never been there, but the coachman in one of the royal carriages he'd taken seemed to know where he was going.

Nero had insisted on helping him move his things from the rented inn room to a room in the castle before leaving with March to finally start their honeymoon, letting Ash know he was free to take advantage of the castle's amenities, including the kitchens and carriages. He wasn't sure how he felt about Nero's generosity, but turning down free transportation was too stubborn even for him.

The Isildor household was large and very appealing to the eye. Comprised of stone that glittered with mica, it had high, arching windows with tidy shutters flanking them. A colorful garden stretched out before it, on either side of the stone-dotted path to the front door. The sleek, white gazebo completed the image of an upscale fairy-tale cottage. Feeling miserably out of place, Ash trodded on heavy feet towards the door.

"Ash?" Ingrid asked in surprise, from her comfortably nestled position on a swing in the garden. He hadn't seen her from his angle, blocked by a tall, thick hedge. "What are you doing here?" She hopped down from the swing.

"I need to talk to Laurel."

"You can't just walk in there. My parents wouldn't like it. You'd only be causing problems for him later."

"Can you ask him to come out and talk to me, then? It's important."

Glancing down at the jar of flowers he clutched in his arms, she had to suppress a dreamy sigh. "Are those for him?"

"Yes."

"They're gorgeous. Where did you buy them?"

"I picked them. From my mother's garden, back home."

Okay, that was it. She wasn't made of stone, after all. "Well… I don't think he'll come out to talk to you, but I can get you in to him without my parents seeing you."

"Did he say he didn't want to see me?" Ash wondered, Ingrid's slight wince all but confirming his suspicions.

"He didn't mention you by name or anything, but… He's in kind of a mood. A bad one. He didn't even want me hanging around. I think he just wants to be left alone to sulk."

"I'm here to try and fix that," he promised her.

With a light touch to his wrist to indicate she wanted him to follow her, she led him around the house to the window that Laurel left habitually cracked. "Wait here," she whispered to him, trotting back around to the front door.

Because the sun was finishing its slow descent down into the horizon, twinkling stars surfacing one by one in the darkening blanket of sky, Ash could see into Laurel's room, though it was dimly lit. Careful to stay out of the direct line of sight of the window, he leaned in a bit for a better look.

Laurel was on his side, arms wrapped tightly around a plump pillow, his fingers digging into its soft fabric. His strong, sharp face was twisted into a turbulent expression, eyes smoldering with umbrage.

Hauntingly beautiful, Ash thought, even as the involuntary compliment annoyed him. It would be his fate to be chained to someone so unfairly attractive that even his own bruised feelings couldn't prevent images of lightning bolts and gossamer fairy wings and golden crowns from surfacing in his mind.

Because he did look like a disgraced, supremely displeased fairy king, Ash thought. Like a pampered royal used to getting his way, who'd been challenged. Again to his chagrin he realized his anger was fading in the gorgeous, pouting face of the sorcerer. He wasn't the type to cling to a grudge. Anger was unpleasant to hold onto, even when it warranted being preserved.

The bedroom door opened, Ingrid carefully stepping inside it. As he watched the sorcerer's lashes sweep down over his stormy eyes, watched his chin tilt up stubbornly, Ash knew he'd be losing this particular battle. He could faintly hear her voice, just a bit timid as she spoke to him, until finally he heard his name from her lips.

When Laurel's blatantly resentful face whipped toward the window, finally locking eyes with him, Ash could only swallow and curl his fingers under the pane of glass to lift it.