Chapter 8: Public Knowledge

Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Public Knowledge

Five days before the wedding

Sebastian’s phone had developed consciousness overnight and apparently chosen violence.

It rang across the dark bedroom for the third time.

Sebastian remained facedown beneath the sheets, one arm buried beneath the pillow, while the device vibrated aggressively against the walnut bedside table.

It stopped.

Silence returned.

Sebastian breathed out.

The phone rang again.

"Persistent little bastard."

He reached blindly toward the table, knocked his watch onto the carpet, and caught the phone before it could follow.

Melanie.

Sebastian answered without lifting his head.

"If Zion has moved the wedding to sunrise, tell him I wish him an unhappy marriage."

"Good morning to you too."

"It is not morning until I consent to it."

"It is six forty-three."

"Then you have called during the night."

Melanie ignored him. "I need you awake."

Something in her tone removed the last of his amusement.

Sebastian rolled onto his back.

Muted daylight pressed around the edges of the heavy curtains. His suite remained cool and still, clothes from the previous evening abandoned over the arm of a chair beside the windows. He had finally fallen asleep sometime after three, after another suppressant and nearly an hour spent pacing because lying down made the pressure behind his eyes worse.

"What happened?"

"The enigma classification leaked."

Sebastian became still.

"Whose source?"

"Former Saharian royal physician. Halden Mirek. Medical extracts appeared online about half an hour ago."

Sebastian pushed himself upright.

His dark hair fell over one shoulder, the ends brushing his collarbone. Lucas had spent most of Sebastian’s adolescence trying to persuade him into keeping it shorter and eventually surrendered when Sebastian became old enough to make rebellion look intentional.

"Send it."

His phone filled with notifications before Melanie finished answering.

The first article opened beneath his thumb.

SAHA CONFIRMS CROWN PRINCE NERO ALTERA IS AN ENIGMA AFTER MEDICAL RECORD LEAK

A photograph of Nero occupied half the page.

Of course they had chosen a good one.

Nero stood outside Parliament several months earlier in a black coat embroidered lightly in silver, long white-blond hair completely loose down his back, smiling at someone beyond the press barrier as if the cameras existed solely for his entertainment.

Sebastian scrolled.

The article was almost embarrassingly admiring.

There were references to Nero’s popularity, his military record, his public appearances, his habit of speaking to civilians without the careful stiffness most royals developed before adulthood. Quotes from Saharian citizens ranged from protective outrage over the stolen records to variations of "we already knew he was extraordinary."

Sebastian’s mouth twitched.

Predictable.

Nero could threaten a minister at noon and charm an entire city before dinner.

Foreign media had never been immune either.

Half of Alamina considered him entertaining, Rohan treated his visits like public holidays, and even countries with less friendly relations with Saha had developed an unfortunate fascination with the beautiful Saharan prince who smiled too easily and behaved as though diplomatic protocol were a personal suggestion.

The secret had never existed within the family. Anyone close enough to the Alteras had known Nero’s classification for years.

The public had not.

That was the difference.

"How bad?" Sebastian asked.

"Internationally? Spectacular."

He got out of bed.

Cold flooring met his bare feet as he crossed toward the windows.

"Spectacular is not a security assessment."

"It is when every major outlet has published within twenty minutes. Saharian public opinion is overwhelmingly on Nero’s side. Foreign responses are mostly fascination rather than panic."

"Because people like him."

"People adore him."

Sebastian pulled one curtain aside.

Morning had already reached the palace gardens.

Workers moved beneath the trees stringing lights between temporary structures for Zion’s reception. White flowers arrived by the cartload along the eastern path. Security officers in dark formal uniforms crossed between service entrances while palace staff rolled covered tables beneath the colonnade.

The royal residence looked calm.

His phone suggested otherwise.

"What did Saha do?"

"Confirmed it."

Sebastian turned.

"When?"

"Seven minutes after publication."

That caught him.

"Seven?"

"Yes."

He walked into the bathroom.

Warm recessed lighting reflected from pale stone walls and the broad mirror above the sink. Sebastian turned on the tap and pushed his hair away from his face.

"Dax approved that?"

"Yes. His Majesty King Dax and Royal Consort Christopher approved it. The confirmation came through the Royal Household."

Sebastian considered that while washing the last traces of sleep from his face.

That made more sense.

Once authenticated medical records were circulating, denial would accomplish very little beyond extending the scandal. Saha had always been aggressive about controlling its own narrative, and Nero had never behaved as though his classification embarrassed him.

If anything, Sebastian imagined the greatest difficulty had been persuading Nero not to give the press an interview personally.

"What was the statement?"

Melanie sent it.

Sebastian opened the document while reaching for his toothbrush.

The statement was brief.

The records were genuine.

Crown Prince Nero Altera was an enigma.

His classification had been known to appropriate Saharian institutions since childhood and had no effect on his constitutional position, military authority, or succession rights.

The unauthorized disclosure of protected medical information was under investigation.

Nothing more.

No explanation of Nero’s abilities.

No apology.

Very Saharian.

Sebastian brushed his teeth while scanning the next article.

Historical specialists were already being dragged onto morning broadcasts. Medical academics who had probably never expected anyone outside conferences to care about extinct secondary classifications were suddenly explaining enigma biology to millions of people.

Most admitted how little modern medicine actually knew.

Sebastian knew more than they did.

That realization sat unpleasantly in his stomach.

"What is Palatine doing?"

"Nothing beyond acknowledging Saha’s statement. Zion’s office has already instructed everyone not to answer questions about Nero’s private medical information."

"Good."

"The press pool outside the palace doubled."

"Less good."

"The wedding was already attracting international coverage."

Sebastian rinsed his mouth.

"At least Zion always wanted an intimate ceremony."

Melanie laughed once. "I’ll tell him you said that."

"You enjoy unemployment."

"I enjoy watching you threaten it."

Sebastian disconnected before she could find another reason to keep him awake.

The silence afterward felt heavier.

He stood before the mirror with both hands resting against the stone counter.

Enigma.

Sebastian pushed his hair back from his face and studied the exhaustion beneath his eyes. Another faint pulse of pressure moved behind them, warning rather than pain.

He ignored it.

The public revelation changed nothing.

That was the rational conclusion.

Nero had been an enigma yesterday.

Sebastian had been a dominant alpha yesterday.

Neither fact had altered overnight simply because millions of strangers now knew an open secret.

Yet twenty minutes later, standing before his wardrobe, Sebastian rejected a black shirt, then a gray one, then became annoyed with himself for noticing what he was choosing at all.

He settled on dark trousers and a deep forest-green shirt, leaving the first button open. The sleeves disappeared beneath a fitted black jacket, although he had no intention of keeping it on indoors.

His hair remained loose around his shoulders.

Lucas would survive.

Sebastian checked the time.

7:26.

Breakfast began at seven thirty in the smaller, eastern dining room.

He normally avoided it.

Wedding week had created an informal morning gathering for whichever members of the family were awake, available, or unlucky enough to be intercepted by Zion on the way elsewhere.

Sebastian had successfully missed every one.

Until today.

He looked at his phone.

Then toward the door.

There was absolutely no reason the leak required him to attend breakfast.

He could read the coverage from his suite.

Speak with Palatine intelligence later.

Ask Nero about the implications at some appropriately inconvenient future moment.

Sebastian picked up his watch.

Apparently he had developed an interest in breakfast.