Chapter 7

IT WAS VERYlike March to maneuver such a delicate situation in a manner to which he succeeded in getting his way, as well as satisfying the needs and wants of others. Laurel supposed that diplomatic tendency was part of why he was so well-suited for Nero in the first place.

The prince's fiancé had been terribly affronted with the idea of having the swarms and swarms of eager aristocrats witness what he thought should be an intimate moment for him. So he'd opted for he and Nero's wedding ceremony to take place within the guarded walls of the dragon enclosure behind the castle, safe from the prying eyes of acquaintances and strangers. But he'd arranged for a massive reception party to take place in the castle's colossal ballroom, the invitations to which had been scattered broadly across Ikronia.

Laurel thought even the gods wouldn't have dared to put a cloud in the sky and risk March's wrath at blighting the absolute perfection he expected on that particular day. Perhaps that was why the sky was so eye-wateringly blue, the breeze just gentle enough to stir the leaves in the trees and the dense layer of wildflowers at their feet into a lazy sway.

Though he had found the majority of other weddings he'd attended to be on the boring side, Laurel found himself amazed by the dozens of dragons calmly seated about in haphazard patterns around the small circle of ceremony attendees. There was one dragon, with glossy scales blacker than coal and leathery wings, perched directly behind where Nero and March stood for their vows, though he remained quiet with a somberly polite expression on his fanged face. Laurel knew that dragon in particular, Perrin, was their bonded dragon, and a dear friend to the both of them. And he himself was fond of the majestic beast as well.

Even more, Laurel found himself charmed by the ribbon-fastening portion of the event. While the officiant recited the typical lines of promising to love and cherish each other eternally, Nero and March faced each other, clasping each other's opposite wrists, while ribbons were painstakingly looped around to bind them.

Nero's ornately embroidered doublet was striking with its pale silver embroidery so stark against the jet black of the fabric. Thick, luxurious fur of deep black covered the shoulders of his coat. The metallic adornments worked into the fur were connected by thin chains that sliced across his chest.

March, who tended to dress more simply, wore all white but for a thin silver circlet with a single diamond to adorn his forehead, stark against his deep ebony locks of hair. But for the first time since Laurel had known him, he wore a cravat of thick silk ribbon fashioned into a large bow at his throat. Nestled into the center of the bow was a pearly brooch. It gave him a virginal, angelic sort of look, though Laurel wondered if they'd actually managed to hold out until the wedding or if Nero was nailing the fussy man into oblivion every chance they got.

Part of him had wanted to be cynical, but he thought now it seemed impossible, registering the intense adoration shining in Nero's eyes. The prince looked as though he'd been given the keys to heaven and the rest of the universe all in one. Either way, they were quite obviously captivated by each other, never once breaking eye contact as Cedar, a mutual close friend of theirs, and Myca, March's delightfully impish younger brother, finished the complex tying procedure.

Their vows were short, but no less effective for their briefness.

"Neroki, I promise to be your devoted lover, friend, your confidant, whatever you need to relieve your burden and make your dreams come true."

"March, I promise I'll spend my life doing everything I can to deserve you, because it would take that long for me to ever get close. You've already given me everything I could ever need just by being mine."

When the officiant pronounced them officially married, they grasped the ends of the ribbons in their hands and pulled apart, weaving the silk strands into a beautiful knot between them.

With Nero gingerly cupping March's face in his hands, their kiss was so sweet, so obviously dripping with purity and devotion and tenderness, that even Laurel felt his chest flutter a bit as he gave a light, celebratory applause along with everyone else who'd been deemed worthy to attend.

When he heard Ingrid's watery whimpering beside him, he dug in his pocket, wondering if he'd remembered to bring a cloth of some sort. To his relief, Ramor slipped a handkerchief from his own and handed it to her, where she began sniffling into it. Their eyes met over her head, and for a moment Laurel felt a sliver of tension.

In his excessive jealousy and bitterness upon first meeting March, back before he'd begun his healing journey, he'd involved Ramor in a particularly cruel and embarrassing prank. Later, as he'd just begun therapy and was advised to make amends with those he'd hurt with his destructive tendencies, he'd apologized to the gentle man. Though Ramor had professed to forgiving him, there had been no mistaking the apprehension that lingered between them. Laurel didn't blame him, but he was relieved when the man's dark eyes showed no hint of strain, only a mildly amused exasperation for Ingrid's emotional outburst. Smiling, Laurel gave him a grateful nod.

THOUGH HE'D ATTENDEDmore parties in the castle's massive ballroom than he could count, Laurel hardly recognized it as he entered with Ingrid at his side. One section of the room had been left clear and free to allow dancing. But dozens of small tables dotted the rest of the floor, blanketed with snowy, shimmering runners. Lacy drapes and chair coverings, along with bunches of fat white blooms cascaded over everything, gave the impression they'd all wandered into a decadent blizzard.

He found the place card with his name written in a swirly font, and sat there, relieved to see Ingrid and Cedar's names on either side of him, and Ramor's across. Even so, it didn't take long before Ingrid, with her cherubic looks and grace, was asked to dance by a friendly acquaintance of theirs. Laurel waved her off, knowing she'd have a better time mingling than sitting with him.

Still, he was glad when it only took a few minutes for Cedar to drop into the seat next to him with an exasperated sigh. Privately echoing the sentiment, Laurel put his chin in his hand, regarding the olive-toned brunette with a questioning expression.

"Thank god that's over," Cedar muttered, though it was clear he held no true ill will. "March would have slit my throat if I'd have messed up that ribbon thing."

"You looked like you knew what you were doing."

"He only made me practice it with Myca a hundred times or so."

"Bet Myca liked that," Laurel commented, cracking a cagey grin when Cedar blushed a bit, burying his face in his drink for a moment. Despite the tough appearance he attempted to portray with his piercings and tattoos, he was shy and easily embarrassed when it came to particular subjects.

"Cut it out. I wouldn't screw around with Myca. He's practically a kid."

Pondering it, Laurel pursed his lips. Myca was nearly the age he'd been when he'd been introduced to Malory by their respective parents, 17. They'd had a five year age gap, the same as Cedar and Myca themselves. But considering how that had turned out, he wondered if Cedar had the right idea fending off the younger Cesari sibling's obvious flirtations toward him.

"It's cute, though. You could do worse."

"I'm not saying he isn't cute. I mean, the crush," Cedar clarified quickly, visibly flustered. "His crush on me is cute. But that's all. Even if I was keen on the idea, I'm pretty sure March would, you know, castrate me or something."

"Maybe," Laurel agreed. Nero's new husband wasn't known for having an open mind or a free spirit.

"Anyway, I don't have time for that kind of thing. I've been busting my ass nonstop in school, and working on top of that. When I get home at night I swear I can hear my brain weeping."

"You'll be done with school soon though," Laurel pointed out. "You're getting your teaching certification at the end of this year." Impressed as always with Cedar's drive and determination to become a teacher at the private academy they'd all attended, Laurel knew a large part of it was because his relationship with his mother was dreadful, and he dreamed of being fully independent from her. He didn't want her money or title, though he had no choice but to accept the latter.

"Right."

"At least it's almost over. Then you'll have free time for dating, or whatever."

"Dating," Cedar scoffed, rubbing a hand over his oddly pretty face. His features had been carved with a delicate hand, thick eyelashes and full, lush mouth contrasting ironically with his alternative fashion preferences. He'd always been insecure about his looks, uncomfortable with the way he was often perceived as effeminate and submissive. "Pretty sure I'm done with that whole routine. I just want to focus on my career."

Though he could understand the sentiment, especially because of what Cedar had gone through with his ex-fiancé, Laurel frowned. "That's a shame. I've always thought you'd make a great husband."

Though he was flattered, Cedar shook his head. "I just don't think I have it in me anymore. Frankly, the whole idea just skeeves me out nowadays. Who came up with the concept anyway? So I fall in love with this person, and I'm supposed to keep them so happy and so satisfied and so fulfilled that they don't think about fooling around with somebody else. But what happens when they meet somebody better, you know? Are they just supposed to settle for me because we're already a thing, or is it fair to jump ship if they have a chance with a spouse that's better-looking or smarter? None of it makes sense to me anymore."

Considering the monologue had come from someone who'd caught their betrothed in bed with another guy only weeks before their wedding date, Laurel wasn't entirely shocked. It'd been a few years already, but clearly the salt in that particular wound hadn't washed out yet.

"Supposedly you just have to find your one special person, and then it'll all become very clear." As if it were so easy, the sorcerer thought. What about the ones like he and Cedar, who'd thought they'd found their special person, only to be left bitter and wounded and painfully alone?

"Like it's that easy," Cedar echoed his thoughts. "I'm sure I'll just be in the market tomorrow buying tomatoes and my soulmate is going to waltz up and tell me I'm the one."

Because the thought was uncomfortably close to Ash, Laurel only gave a wry hum in response and sipped at his drink. "That'll be the day."

"You look really good, Laurel. I've been meaning to tell you that. All that stuff you're doing… It's agreeing with you."

"Thanks." He was used to the compliment by now, and it worried him a little how awful he must have looked before all that stuff, but at least the comments were genuine.

"Nero told me you're working with some guy to try and get your magic back."

"Trying to."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. It'd be nice if you started making things again."

"It would be. It's going to feel strange if I can get back into everything, though."

"You know, I still have that paperweight you made for me."

"Shut up!" Laurel exclaimed, laughing as he shook his head. "That's one of the first things I ever made. It's awful." It was a fist-sized blob, flat on the bottom and smoothly domed at the top, from before he'd really understood how to use his energy to coax the glass into interesting, streamlined shapes.

"It's pretty," Cedar argued. "I keep it on my desk and I look at it every day. It reminds me of spring." It was an interesting mix of greens, opaque pastels swirled with brights.

"I'll make you something better if this little experiment we're doing works."

"You can make me whatever you'd like, and I'm sure it'll be beautiful, but I'm not getting rid of my little green bubble," Cedar replied, rather matter-of-factly. "I like looking at it. And it's a gift from you, so that means a lot to me."

Releasing his breath on a sigh, Laurel couldn't help but feel charmed at the sincere statement. "You really are the best guy, Cedar. Maybe we should make one of those pacts, where if we aren't married in a few years, we can just marry each other."

Snorting into his drink, Cedar rolled his eyes. "Not that I'd say no to you now, but there'd be little point. There's no way you won't be getting snatched up by someone."

"Me?"

"Me?" Cedar imitated the surprised tone, making Laurel laugh. "Yes, you. I know you've been going through it and everything for awhile, but… You really are doing so much better. You should be really proud. Everyone can see how much work you've put into it."

Because the myriad of compliments from the one who he usually enjoyed bickering back and forth with were threatening to make him emotional, Laurel kept his voice mild. "You're being a little too nice to me today, Cedar. If you don't bring up how many guys I've slept with or what an empty-headed bimbo I am soon, I'll start to think you've suffered a brain injury or something."

"I guess I just wanted you to know I'm happy for you. But I can call you a slut if it'd make you happy."

"I hate to burden you, but you might have to find a new insult. I've been celibate for so long now I don't even remember what sex is like anymore."

"Tell me about it."

"How long's it been for you?"

Cedar stared at him wryly for a moment. "Don't ask."

When the newlyweds entered the room, there was raucous applause and cheering from both friends and family, as well as the high society nobles that watched and kept tabs on the royal family like it was an interesting game. Laurel had already gotten a close-up look at the jaw-dropping ring Nero had given March to signify their marriage bond. Like March, it was classically beautiful, and just a little stuck up.

"They're good together. I wasn't sure at first, but March is really keeping him in line. It's kind of funny to see," Cedar couldn't help himself from commenting as he watched the new couple saunter out onto the dance floor, their gazes still locked together adoringly, Beritz nearly bouncing with excitement as he pushed them along. He'd been doting over March nearly as much as the noble's own parents.

"Did they say where they're honeymooning?" Laurel wondered aloud.

"Some big secluded manor out in the mountains that the king owns."

"Sounds relaxing. Quiet."

"Quiet," Cedar snorted. "I'll be surprised if March can walk when they get home."

Squeezing his eyes closed, Laurel wrinkled his nose with the effort to keep from laughing as he shook his head.

"What are we talking about?" Ramor asked as he arrived at the table, pulling out his assigned seat.

Cracking open one eye to see Cedar staring at him, Laurel couldn't help but let the laughter bubble out.