Chapter 52: Promise me this.

Chapter 52: Chapter 52: Promise me this.

"Everyone out."

Nero did not raise his voice.

The two words landed flat and cold through the observation suite, stripping the room of the low murmur of physicians and the soft tapping of fingers against diagnostic screens. Claude, who had already taken a step toward Sebastian’s bed, stopped with one hand still curled around his tablet.

Beyond the open door, Hale straightened.

The crown prince rarely used his authority in private and almost never with people who already obeyed him. Nero preferred charm, arguments, threats disguised as jokes, or simply behaving as though everyone had already agreed with him.

When rank entered his voice, something had usually gone catastrophically wrong.

Nero’s violet eyes moved across the medical staff.

"For a moment," he added, quieter this time.

The qualification eased the tension by approximately nothing.

Claude’s gaze shifted from Nero to Sebastian, assessing him one last time before setting his tablet on the narrow counter beside the monitors.

"Call us immediately if anything changes."

"I will."

Nero’s tone made it clear the conversation was finished.

The senior Sahan physician gestured to the younger specialists. Chairs scraped softly over the floor as they withdrew from the monitoring station, white coats disappearing through the doorway one after another.

Hale remained there a second longer.

His brown eyes settled on Nero, then Sebastian.

Nero gave him the smallest nod.

Hale pulled the door shut.

The latch clicked.

Silence settled across the room.

Not true silence. The pulse monitor continued its steady rhythm beside the bed, rain whispered against the narrow windows, and one of the diagnostic machines gave an occasional muted tone.

Still, without half a dozen people moving around them, the room suddenly felt smaller.

Nero remained standing beside the bed.

Sebastian flexed his fingers where they were still caught in Nero’s hand.

The movement drew Nero’s attention downward.

Sebastian could have pulled free. He did not.

"I was just lost in thought for a moment."

Nero looked back at him.

There was no accusation in his expression, which made Sebastian more aware of the tension in it.

"I’m not in pain."

One pale eyebrow lifted.

Sebastian shut his eyes briefly and exhaled through his nose.

"No more than before taking your hand."

Some of the hardness left Nero’s mouth.

"Better."

"That first answer was not a lie."

Nero finally sat.

He dragged the chair closer with his free hand, the legs giving a soft scrape against the floor, then lowered himself into it without releasing Sebastian. His black shirt had creased across his shoulders from two days of sitting in that same chair, sleeves pushed back enough to expose his wrists.

"It was strategically incomplete."

Sebastian opened his eyes.

"That is rich coming from you."

"I never claimed to be a good influence."

Nero rested his forearm across his thigh and leaned forward slightly, bringing them closer to eye level. Their joined hands remained between them, Sebastian’s lying loosely in Nero’s larger palm.

The movement should have felt predatory.

Instead, Nero looked worried.

Genuinely worried.

"It helped," Sebastian said, softer now. "The contact. Your pheromones."

"I know."

"Then stop looking as if one of the physicians is about to tell you I’m dying."

Nero’s jaw tightened.

"Your heart rate jumped by nearly forty beats in seconds, and you stopped responding while looking directly at me."

Sebastian glanced at the monitor.

The numbers had already settled.

"I’m fine."

Nero’s thumb stopped against the side of his hand.

"Sebastian."

His voice had changed. The authority was gone. So was the faint edge of irritation.

Sebastian looked back at him.

Nero held his gaze for a long moment before leaning farther into the chair, his shoulders lowering by a fraction.

"I want one thing from you."

Sebastian’s brow lifted.

"That sentence coming from you has historically been dangerous."

"Probably."

The corner of Nero’s mouth moved, but the expression disappeared almost immediately.

"Never lie to me."

Sebastian went still.

Nero looked down at their hands before speaking again.

"I am not asking for every thought you have. If there is something you do not want to tell me, say that. If you need time, tell me that too."

His fingers shifted around Sebastian’s, not tightening enough to trap him, only adjusting the contact.

"But do not tell me you are fine because you think that is what I want to hear."

Sebastian watched him quietly.

Nero’s voice dropped.

"If you are hurting, tell me. If I am making something worse, tell me. If you want me gone, say it."

His eyes lifted again.

"I would rather hear that you cannot stand having me in the room than hear something pleasant that is not true."

For a moment, Sebastian had no response.

Nero had demanded plenty from him. Eventually marriage, with all the delicacy of military annexation.

This was different.

"Even if I tell you to leave?"

Something flickered through Nero’s expression.

Displeasure, immediate and instinctive.

"Yes."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

"You would leave?"

Nero’s mouth twitched.

"That was not what I said."

A small laugh escaped Sebastian.

The tension in Nero’s shoulders finally broke.

Not entirely, but enough that he leaned back a little and the room stopped feeling as though a single wrong answer might set off every alarm at once.

"I said I want the truth," Nero continued. "I never said I would behave graciously after receiving it."

"That sounds considerably more believable."

"I thought so."

Sebastian shook his head, a faint smile remaining despite himself.

Nero noticed it. His eyes softened.

"I wasn’t lying," Sebastian said after a moment. "I really am fine."

Nero started to speak.

Sebastian squeezed his fingers once.

"Actually fine. The contact triggered a memory. It took me by surprise."

Nero’s expression sharpened again, though he kept his voice controlled.

"A memory?"

Sebastian nodded.

He looked toward the rain-darkened windows, watching water collect in narrow trails across the glass.

"A youth gathering. Palatine, I think."

Nero waited.

Sebastian could feel the unanswered questions gathering behind his silence.

"I was seventeen. You were twelve."

Nero stared at him.

The worry cracked.

"I was not twelve."

Sebastian turned his head back toward him.

"You absolutely were."

"I reject this memory."

A little more warmth entered Sebastian’s smile.

"You were already seven foot three, which was obscene."

"That sounds perfectly normal."

"You looked twenty until you opened your mouth."

Nero gave him an offended look.

Sebastian could remember the real gathering now: winter outside the palace windows, heirs from half a dozen states being forced into formal clothes and instructed to socialize while their parents disappeared into political meetings.

Nero had towered over nearly everyone.

White-blond hair brushed his shoulders even then, and Christopher had apparently dressed him in a purple formal coat far too elegant for a youth gathering.

"You spent half the evening following Dax around."

"I liked Father."

"You kept correcting ministers."

"They were wrong."

"One of them misremembered a treaty date by a year."

"Unacceptable."

Sebastian laughed quietly.

This time Nero smiled with him.

The atmosphere in the room had changed completely, the earlier severity worn down into something almost comfortable. Even the rain seemed quieter now that Nero was no longer sitting rigidly beside the bed as though waiting for Sebastian to collapse.

"You were unbearable," Sebastian said.

"I was twelve."

"So you admit it."

Nero’s eyes narrowed.

"That was entrapment."

Sebastian’s smile widened slightly.

Nero watched him for another moment, and Sebastian saw the exact instant he made a decision.

He knew the explanation was incomplete.

A harmless childhood memory did not account for the way Sebastian had looked at him after coming back to himself.

Nero knew that, but he did not press.

"All right," he said.

Sebastian studied him. "That’s it?"

"For now."

Nero lifted their joined hands slightly and ran his thumb once over Sebastian’s knuckles.

"You said it was a memory. I believe you."

Something uncomfortable tightened beneath Sebastian’s ribs.

"And," Nero added, his voice lighter, "you smiled while talking about me."

"That proves very little."

"It proves twelve-year-old me was charming."

"It proves my standards were poor at nineteen."

Nero huffed a quiet laugh and settled deeper into the chair.

Outside the door, muted voices moved along the corridor. The physicians were still waiting. Hale was probably standing directly outside, pretending he could not hear anything.

Nero glanced toward the door.

Then back at Sebastian.

"One more minute."

Sebastian could have told him to call everyone in.

Instead, his fingers remained relaxed inside Nero’s hand.

"One minute," he agreed.

Nero’s smile was small this time.

The rain continued against the windows, and for that minute neither of them disturbed the quiet.