Chapter 20

LEARNING TO BLOCKout the emotional ambience of the people around you was something most empaths learned at a young age. It was either that or drown in a sea of random strangers' emotions. But Ash found himself lowering his mental guard, just a little, hoping it would help give him an insight to Laurel's friends.

Ingrid's aura he was already very familiar with. Warm and floaty, approachable. He was grateful that Laurel had someone in his life like her.

Nero was friendly enough, accommodating where he needed to be. But the smug confidence and hair-trigger jealousy kept his aura from being too welcoming. Still, it seemed the prince was making a concerted effort to tamp down on his impulsive reactions.

As he'd previously noted about the new little royal, March's aura was delicate, though not exactly brittle. Silken spider web, blotted with dew drops of insecurity. But under that, struggling to bloom through, was a strong sense of perseverance. He wanted to be the best, and he was willing to put in the work for it.

Ramor's aura lacked a lot of complexity, in a refreshing sort of way. He was easygoing, and didn't worry much, though he had a fair amount of responsibility from his family on his shoulders. But the amicable vibes made him pleasant to be around.

That left Cedar. Though he was clearly apprehensive, Ash could dig down past the mistrustful layer and determine that was a caring and loyal friend. Protective. He imagined the tattooed brunette was one of the few people Laurel had confided in regarding his painful past. And because Cedar seemed to have some lingering upheaval from his own past, Ash wondered if they'd bonded over that.

At Ingrid's request, March talked about he and Nero's honeymoon. They'd spent the majority of the time in a manor in a private mountain range owned by the king, but they'd also taken a few days at a very exclusive, very expensive luxe resort spa, apparently on Ramor's recommendation.

"That sounds so relaxing," Ingrid sighed at March's explanation of some of the spa treatments he'd had done. "I'm completely jealous."

"They have spas here, too, you know," Cedar pointed out. "You could make a day of it, if you really wanted."

"I wouldn't have anyone to go with," she replied, pursing her lips a bit.

"I'd come with you," March said, voice sounding wistful. "I really loved the facial I got. My skin feels so soft now," he added, skimming the backs of his fingers over his cheeks. "I'd love to do that again."

Glancing over to his new husband, Nero's smirk was evident. "If you want a facial, I'd be happy t-"

"Don't say it," Cedar cut in, grimacing. "It's bad enough we've all had to watch you eye-fuck him the whole time we've been sitting here."

"Someone's cranky that they aren't getting laid," Ramor noted.

Laurel half-listened to them bicker back and forth for a minute, as he watched March blink his long lashes in obvious confusion. Nero leaned in, whispering what Laurel could only surmise was an explanation of what he'd meant by a facial. Expectedly, March's face exploded with color, and he gave the prince an indignant glare before swatting at him.

Always the one to defuse, Ingrid's voice was unflaggingly cheery. "What about you, Laurel? Would you come with us?"

Trying very hard not to wince at her question, he imagined how he would feel lying in a room with a stranger rubbing mud or god knows what all over him. "Ah…" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see March watching him expectantly. He wanted him to say yes, Laurel realized, because March wanted them to be friends. He'd made that clear a long time ago.

"They have herbal mud baths and stuff you can soak in, you don't have to get a massage if you don't want," Ramor said, sensing Laurel's trepidation. "There are a ton of health benefits. I've done it lots of times."

With everyone's eyes on him, Laurel could hardly resist squirming. "I'll think about it."

As the others went back to discussing the various things you could have done at the spa, what they'd tried and what they'd like to try, Laurel felt Ash's arm slip around his waist, pulling him a bit closer. Grateful for the contact, he couldn't help but lay his head on the healer's firm arm.

"What about you, Ash?" Ingrid asked, eyeing her brother cuddling into the man's side. "Would you come with us?"

"Well, I'm not opposed," he answered honestly, looking thoughtful. "But if you wait for it to rain, there'll be plenty of mud outside for free."

Snorting a little, Laurel shook his head, waiting for everyone else to get engrossed back in their conversation before flicking his eyes up to Ash's face, watching him intently.

Glancing down to his sorcerer, Ash tilted his head. "You're very soft tonight," he observed, in a low voice meant only for Laurel to hear.

"I'm sorry we fought earlier."

"It wasn't really a fight. You just needed a reminder."

As he nodded slowly, the sound of his friends' chitchat began to fade, becoming increasingly distant to Laurel's ears. It was bizarre, the feeling of everything and everyone evaporating away. With Malory he'd always been on edge around his friends, always obsessing about every small comment between them.

"You're too tolerant with me," he murmured, all too familiar with the thump of guilt to pulse through him at the words. He was used to overreacting, lashing out, and having to apologize for it later. But he'd been trying so hard…

"I'm not tolerating you," Ash corrected. "You still don't know how lucky I feel for having the privilege of being with you, Laurel?"

"Ash…" Each word seemed to stab through him like a whiskey-soaked rapier, drugging him until he was aching from the sweetness. Slipping his arms around Ash's shoulders, he couldn't stop himself from melting into Ash's unyielding form, tingles shooting through him as their lips came together.

Every movement of Ash's mouth against his was proof of the healer's claim of knowing exactly what he wanted, teasing little brushes that tormented him until he was practically quivering. Warmth spread from his core out to his limbs, even heating his fingers and toes until he was sure he'd never feel cold again.

"Come on," Cedar groaned, pressing his fingers into his eyes. "I'm making a rule, no more coupling up. The next person to get in a relationship is booted from the group."

"Vetoed," Nero retorted with a scoff. "Why don't you try getting your dick sucked, it'll improve your mood."

"Go ahead," Cedar invited him, gesturing down to his crotch with an expectant look.

Smirking, Nero raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, my mouth's pretty occupied these days."

"Neroki!" March snapped, a clear warning in his voice. Knowing his husband's limits, the prince raised his hands palm up to indicate he was finished.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"If you have such a problem with it, feel free to avert your eyes," Laurel spoke up, after allowing Ramor to make the appropriate whip crack sound to indicate Nero's position in his marriage.

"Oh, sure. I'll be sure to send you my chiropractor's bill for all the neck strain," Cedar responded dryly. "How about you figure out a way to keep your tongues out of each others' mouths until we're not all sitting in a circle a foot apart?"

"Understood," Ash said, looking amused, though Laurel visibly bristled.

"You don't have to kiss Cedar's ass, you know. None of us do."

"Truer words never spoken," Cedar muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe you're the one that needs a day at the spa," Ingrid pointed out, knowing she was the one person who could suggest it that he wouldn't snap back at.

"I don't have time for a day at the spa," he groused, as if it should be obvious. "Between the classes I'm taking for my certification, and trying to get my teaching assistant hours in so I can start as soon as I'm done, I don't have time for anything."

"You're going to school to be a teacher?" Ash asked, with genuine interest. He figured all the highborn trust fund nobles went into careers that revolved around the arts, something they could do at their leisure that didn't require labor or hassle, if they went into a career at all. Not that it was a bad thing. Someone had to be able to make art. Or in the case of Laurel's father, keep house and raise babies. But teaching was the kind of high-effort, low-reward job he'd never have imagined for their type.

Glancing over to the healer with a look that suggested he didn't entirely trust the question, Cedar gave a nod. "That surprise you?"

"Yeah," Ash answered honestly. "It does. You don't seem like the type."

"You don't know me." The comment was given neutrally, without any heat, simply a statement of fact. But it was a start.

"Fair enough," Ash conceded. But he could understand the urge to go into a field where he'd actually be contributing and helping people very well. He'd had the same need, lucky to be able to provide relief to those in some of the most hopeless, desperate situations.

When the conversation steered back to something lighter, Ash let himself laugh at ludicrous stories, listening with amusement as they all playfully bickered amongst each other. They were relatively normal, or at least more normal than he'd expected, not radically different from the group of friends he'd had in school, despite that their group was comprised of royals and aristocrats.

He encouraged them to keep telling stories, particularly ones that involved a young Laurel, greedy for any morsel of knowledge about him that he hadn't yet been able to suss out. As the hours passed, he could feel any lingering tension wafting out from everyone as they all relaxed around each other. People were people at their core, he thought. Maybe Laurel wouldn't be so out of place in his rustic little town, despite how shiny and elegant and stylish he would look.

Because the aura radiating off the sorcerer reminded him of the night of Ingrid's concert, fluffy and pastel and sweet, Ash was glad when things began wrapping up, everyone murmuring about how tired they were or explaining things they had to do in the morning. And there would be no Malory this time to materialize from a shadowy corner and batter his emotions.

Everyone stood, saying goodbyes and beginning to scatter in different directions. "Hold on a second," Laurel requested, before bounding over to where Nero and March were heading off in the direction of Nero's bedroom. Watching curiously for a moment, Ash noted that he was talking specifically to March, and not to the prince. Before he could try to solve the mystery of whatever that conversation was about, Cedar crossed his line of vision for a moment on his way out.

"Ah, Cedar, wait."

Watching the tattooed man's expression make the journey from surprised to annoyed to resigned, Ash could hardly suppress a smile. The prickly irritability reminded him of Laurel.

"What do you want?" Cedar asked, turning to face the healer. "Listen, if you want to try to convince me that you're good for Laurel or some other sappy crap, save it. Nero already explained the situation to me, and I get it. He's happy, so whatever. We don't need an after school special moment, do we?"

"I don't think so," Ash agreed. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad he has you."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm glad Laurel has you as a friend. I get why you're weirded out by the situation, and whether Nero spoke up on my behalf or not, I know you have your reservations." But the fact that the crown prince had apparently defended him was a very surprising and very pleasant realization for him. "I'm glad he has someone like you looking out for him so that he…" Trailing off as he realized he didn't have hard evidence that Cedar knew about what had happened with Malory and that he couldn't be the one to reveal something that massively private, Ash tried to be vague. "So that he doesn't get hurt."

Eyeing the healer cautiously, it seemed Cedar was making a similar assessment in his head, unsure of what he could acknowledge, because he didn't know what Ash knew about Laurel either. "Right. Because not every guy is going to treat him well."

"I know what he's worth and what he deserves, believe me. I'm exceedingly aware of how lucky I am that he's even given me the time of day."

"Yeah, well, as long as you know," Cedar retorted, looking derisive. "If that's it, can I go now?" Before Ash could reply, he shook his head. "And before you start crafting little theories and psychoanalyzing me, I don't have some secret crush on him or anything. I never have. So if I don't like you, it's not because I want Laurel. It's just because you're a tool. Got that?"

"Duly noted."

It was a good exit line, Ash thought, as far as caustic exit lines went, but the finality of it was spoiled by Laurel sauntering back up to them, apparently done with his conversation with March.

"Hey, you're still here?" He questioned Cedar, tilting his head. "You're going to be falling asleep at your desk tomorrow."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he replied. "I'll be fine." Ash noticed the acidity in his tone was non-existent now in Laurel's presence.

Turning toward the healer, Laurel gave him a beseeching look. "Do you mind waiting for me in your room? I'll be right up."

"Not at all," Ash answered honestly, not quite unable to stop the way his pulse seemed to skip a bit at the soppy, grateful expression he received from Laurel in return.

"You're the best," he murmured, leaning over to plant a kiss on Ash's cheek. "I won't take long."

"Take all the time you need. Night, Cedar."

"Yeah." Cedar waited until Ash was out of sight before exhaling. "If you're going to lecture me about snapping at your boyfrie-" Prepared to defend himself again, his mind blanked a bit when Laurel wrapped him up in a fierce hug, holding him tightly. It had been so long since he'd done something like that.

"I just miss you," Laurel breathed out, relieved when Cedar's arms slowly, and somewhat stiffly, raised up to squeeze him back for a moment. "I know you mentioned it at the wedding, but I didn't realize how hard you're working and how stressed out you are."

"Only for a few more months," he countered, resenting that he must have sounded so weak and whiny. He despised showing weakness, hated the way it made him look. It was bad enough that he couldn't pack on muscle no matter what he ate or how much he tried working out. And that he was forever getting compliments on his luscious eyelashes and pretty mouth, delicately carved features that apparently no amount of piercings or tattoos could detract from.

"Let's do stuff together, like we used to, before you were busy all the time. I seriously miss you, Cedar." Drawing away a bit, Laurel kept his arms hooked comfortably around his friend's neck.

"Alright, fine," he conceded, though he was flattered. And he felt the same way. "Isn't your boyfriend going to get annoyed if he turns around and sees you hanging all over me?"

"Ash isn't like that," Laurel assured him, then lightly smirked. "You're too short for me, anyway."

"That's really funny," Cedar responded dryly, lips set in a thin line. "You're hilarious."

"I would say we can hang out this weekend, but… I kind of just invited March to go shopping with me, so…"

Snorting in surprise, Cedar raised an eyebrow. "Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that."

"Shut up," Laurel grumbled in response, though he had even surprised himself with the invitation. "It'll be fine. He's not so bad."

"He's fine," Cedar agreed. He'd needed time to warm up to the fastidious noble himself, but his doubts were gone. "I just didn't know you guys were all buddy-buddy now."

"He's Nero's husband. I have to give him a chance, right?"

"Guess so. Anyway, we'll figure something out soon, so don't worry about me."

"Okay," Laurel agreed, though part of him didn't like the idea of Cedar suffering through his self-inflicted exhaustion and loneliness alone. "I'll be in touch."

Saying so, he took a deep breath and headed back to Ash.