Chapter 127: Objective Data

Chapter 127: Chapter 127: Objective Data

A week later, Nero had become considerably easier to live with.

Sebastian refused to credit personal growth.

Saha had simply remembered that its Crown Prince possessed a government.

Work returned with enough brutality that Idris began appearing outside their bedroom shortly after seven every morning, usually carrying two tablets, several physical folders, and the expression of a man personally offended by the existence of other countries.

Nero complained.

Then worked.

Unfortunately, he also looked unfairly good while doing it.

That morning he had left their bedroom in cream trousers, a muted blue silk shirt beneath a fitted caramel jacket, and a patterned pocket square Sebastian suspected cost more than some junior officials earned in a month. His white-blond hair had been pulled into a low knot with several deliberate strands left loose around his face, because apparently even being dragged into a four-hour economic briefing did not justify looking boring.

The previous day had involved an emerald-green suit for lunch with an agricultural delegation.

Two days before that, Nero had attended the opening of a renovated children’s hospital wing in pale gray with lavender underneath, somehow managing to look both appropriately royal and like he had stepped directly from an expensive advertisement.

Sebastian had learned that Nero’s wardrobe contained color. Quite a lot of it.

The man simply enjoyed black enough that people forgot.

Their schedules had become equally varied.

There had been legal meetings concerning the wedding agreement, two dinners with visiting officials, an afternoon reviewing security changes for Sebastian’s permanent move into the Crown Prince’s household, and one deeply unpleasant two-hour conversation about seating precedence that Sebastian had eventually escaped by claiming a medical appointment.

It had not technically been a lie.

Roberta had wanted to check his back.

She had also spent several minutes making certain he and Nero understood that fully recovered and capable of attempting the same thing immediately were not equivalent concepts.

Nero had been suspiciously attentive during that part.

Sebastian had kicked his ankle beneath the examination table.

The wedding itself had finally become real enough to exist on official calendars in five months.

The date had required negotiations between three governments, two royal households, Fitzgeralt’s administrative office, security commands, and enough ceremonial staff that Sebastian had briefly wondered whether simply eloping would qualify as an act of mercy.

November had ultimately suited everyone.

Altera remained warm then, certainly warmer than half the world expected from the word winter, with mild afternoons, green palace gardens, and evenings cool enough for formal events without forcing foreign guests through snow.

Nero had approved the month immediately.

Five months was, after all, one month less than six.

Sebastian had seen the satisfaction on his face and decided not to comment.

Some battles were unnecessary. Others had been postponed deliberately.

He and Lucas had spoken privately several days after the constitutional meeting.

Sebastian had expected the conversation about the dreams to be more difficult.

It wasn’t.

Lucas understood. Perhaps too well.

He had listened while Sebastian explained that the memories did not feel like ordinary dreams, but that did not mean Sebastian wanted to dissect every fragment simply because they might matter. Some were incomplete. Some contradicted one another. Some carried emotions stronger than the actual images attached to them.

Lucas had simply asked whether Sebastian wanted help.

Sebastian had said no.

Lucas had asked whether he wanted company when he eventually talked.

Sebastian had said maybe.

That had been enough.

They agreed to wait.

Nero agreed too. In his own deeply Nero interpretation of patience. He had stopped asking direct questions. He had not stopped thinking about them.

Sebastian knew because twice during the week Nero had somehow steered otherwise normal conversations toward hairstyles, and once, while selecting photographs for the wedding announcement archive, he had stared suspiciously at an old image of himself with shoulder-length hair.

"You are competing with yourself," Sebastian had told him.

"That man had different experiences."

"That man is also you."

"He had you first."

Sebastian had left the room.

There were philosophical arguments not worth having before coffee.

By the end of the week, however, Sebastian had developed a considerably less metaphysical curiosity.

His body had recovered... enough.

The marks on his neck had faded enough that the last bandage disappeared three days earlier. His shoulders no longer objected when he stretched. His thighs had forgiven him.

His ass had taken longer.

That fact continued to offend him.

Sebastian had spent most of his adult life maintaining the physical conditioning expected from Fitzgeralt’s heir. Military field exercises, weapons training, combat drills, endurance testing, dominant-alpha response conditioning—none of it had produced the sort of full-body rebellion that Nero had managed with a window and an unreasonable amount of enthusiasm.

He was a trained soldier. He had been a dominant alpha. His body was not delicate.

Yet for nearly two days after that night, sitting had required thought.

By Friday afternoon, the question had become irritating enough to deserve investigation.

Sebastian was alone in the smaller sitting room attached to their bedroom, one ankle resting over the opposite knee as he worked through several messages Melanie had forwarded from Fitzgeralt.

He wore loose dark-green trousers and a white knit shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, having declared the rest of the afternoon free of formal clothing after returning from lunch with Sirius’s legal delegation.

Nero was still downstairs.

Or was supposed to be.

His final event of the day had been a meeting with Saha’s infrastructure minister followed by a short media appearance concerning a coastal rail project.

Sebastian finished answering Melanie, set the message aside, then opened the royal medical portal.

His own record appeared first.

Roberta had been tactful.

Temporary muscular strain associated with prolonged physical exertion and sustained positioning.

Sebastian stared at the phrase.

That woman deserved a raise.

He backed out.

Nero’s profile appeared beside his, accessible only in abbreviated emergency form.

Blood type.

Known allergies.

Enigma status hidden behind royal security authorization.

Current medications.

Routine physical clearance.

Not remotely enough.

Sebastian selected the option beneath it.

REQUEST EXTENDED PARTNER ACCESS

He paused for a second before pressing it.

A justification box appeared.

Sebastian considered several possibilities.

Medical concern sounded too dramatic.

Transition relevance was false.

Research was technically dishonest.

He typed: Personal inquiry.

Submitted.

Then returned to his messages.

Approximately forty seconds later, the sitting-room door opened.

Sebastian looked up.

Nero stood in the doorway.

He had clearly come directly from work.

The caramel jacket was gone, leaving the blue silk shirt open at the throat with the sleeves folded neatly below his elbows. His cream trousers were still perfectly pressed despite ten hours of government, and a narrow gold watch caught the afternoon light when he lifted the tablet in his hand.

His hair had loosened from its knot.

Several white-blond strands rested against his cheek.

He looked tired. He also looked suspicious.

"You requested access to my complete medical record."

Sebastian leaned back.

"That was fast."

"I receive security notifications."

"Of course you do."

Nero walked into the room and closed the door with his heel.

"Personal inquiry?"

"Yes."

He glanced at the request again.

"Are you worried about something?"

"No."

"My health?"

"No."

"My enigma markers?"

"No."

Nero crossed the room.

"Fertility?"

"No."

"Family history?"

"No."

He stopped in front of Sebastian’s chair.

Sebastian looked up at him.

Nero lowered the tablet.

"Then what?"

Sebastian reached for his water.

"I wanted information."

"That is usually what medical files contain."

"Exactly."

Nero’s eyes narrowed.

"Something you cannot simply ask me." ℯℓ.

Sebastian took a drink.

Nero watched him. ℯℓ.

It was impressive how quickly curiosity could revive a man after an entire day of ministerial meetings.

"You could approve the request," Sebastian said.

"I could."

Nero sat on the edge of the low table opposite him, long legs immediately occupying an unreasonable amount of space.

"But now I want to know why."

Sebastian set his glass down.

Nero waited.

There was absolutely no graceful way to phrase this.

Sebastian decided he did not care.

"I want to know how large your cock is."