Chapter 74: Premonition

Chapter 74: Chapter 74: Premonition

Nero woke at six in the morning and decided that agreeing to remain in Altera had been an exceptionally poor decision.

Not because he had slept badly.

His private suite at the Palace of Altera had been maintained exactly as he preferred it, with the temperature adjusted to accommodate his unusually high body heat, the curtains drawn against the eastern windows, and a bed large enough that even someone of his ridiculous height could stretch out without encountering furniture.

He had slept for nearly five hours.

A perfectly respectable amount for an enigma.

Unfortunately, the room contained no Sebastian.

Nero lay on his back beneath the dark sheets, one arm resting over his abdomen while he stared at the pale silver patterns running across the ceiling.

Sebastian had asked him to remain in Altera.

Nero had agreed because Sebastian had looked genuinely concerned about him exhausting himself again, and Nero had discovered that being cared for by the man he loved was an experience he enjoyed far too much to dismiss.

That did not mean he enjoyed the consequences.

He wanted Sebastian.

Not in the abstract, romantic sense that could be temporarily satisfied by a phone call and an exchange of affectionate messages.

He wanted the man physically close. Within reach.

Somewhere Nero could turn his head and see him without relying on a screen, a medical report, or Duncan’s increasingly detailed security updates.

Nero closed his eyes.

For one unpleasant instant, the red sea appeared.

Dark liquid stretched beneath a colorless sky, perfectly still except for a distant ripple spreading across its surface.

Nero opened his eyes immediately.

His breathing remained even, but something beneath his ribs tightened.

He hated that place.

More importantly, he hated that it continued appearing whenever his instincts became particularly insistent about Sebastian.

Nero had spent enough years studying his own enigma to recognize the difference between ordinary possessiveness and the deeper, more primitive impulses that occasionally pushed past conscious thought.

This was not simply the familiar desire to keep Sebastian nearby.

Something felt wrong.

Not necessarily at the villa.

Nero knew better than to mistake a feeling for evidence, particularly when his instincts had spent the better part of a month demanding that he mark Sebastian, bind him, and remove every possibility of separation.

But the unease remained.

He reached for his phone.

Duncan’s overnight security report had arrived forty minutes earlier.

No incidents.

No unauthorized access.

No changes in the protective perimeter.

Roberta’s latest medical summary was equally uneventful, documenting stable vital signs, continued receptor development, and another night without the inflammatory spikes that had once made Sebastian’s condition so unpredictable.

Sebastian was fine.

Nero should have been satisfied.

Instead, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

He was going back.

Today.

Preferably before the sun rose again.

He opened Idris’s contact.

His chief secretary answered after several rings, sounding entirely too composed for someone being disturbed at six in the morning.

"Your Highness?"

"Move the Vesper meeting to this evening."

A brief silence followed.

"Good morning to you too."

"Good morning, Idris. Eight o’clock."

"The representatives were informed that the meeting would take place tomorrow afternoon, following the Southern Command review."

"Then inform them that the Crown Prince has reconsidered his schedule."

Nero rose and crossed toward the windows, pulling the curtains aside while pale morning light spread across the dark wood floor.

Below, the palace gardens were already occupied by maintenance staff, and the first official vehicles were passing through the eastern security gate.

"Your Highness, Southern Command alone may occupy most of the afternoon."

"Then the commanders should arrive with complete reports and avoid spending four hours explaining why their aircraft inventories have apparently become fictional literature."

Idris exhaled quietly.

Nero smiled.

The sound reminded him of Sahir whenever Dax announced something that would require the entire royal administration to rearrange its priorities.

"And House Mynatt?" Idris asked.

"Inform them that their legal representatives are expected this evening. Have Melrose brought as well."

"Melrose himself?"

"His family has spent weeks attempting to rewrite the circumstances surrounding his actions. I believe he deserves the opportunity to hear what they have accomplished."

Nero adjusted the sleeve of his sleeping shirt, considering the omega who had apparently mistaken the Crown Prince’s silence for an opportunity to escape punishment.

Let Melrose panic over an earlier summons.

Nero had considerably more important things to worry about.

"Have Vesper’s representatives arrive at eight and arrange for an independent medical assessment of Melrose before the meeting. I want no convenient claims that he is suddenly incapable of participating."

"Understood."

"And prepare the aircraft for departure afterward."

Idris paused.

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"Sebastian asked you to remain in Altera."

Nero’s eyes narrowed.

"How do you know that?"

"You informed me yesterday when I asked why you were considering another round trip."

"That was an error in judgment."

"Apparently."

Nero looked toward the clock.

Six seventeen.

He could complete the Southern Command review before dinner, attend the Vesper meeting in the evening, and leave as soon as the necessary decisions had been made.

With sufficiently competent personnel, he might even reach the villa before midnight.

"Tell the flight crew to prepare the sleeping cabin."

Idris sounded genuinely surprised.

"You intend to sleep on the aircraft?"

"Sebastian will ask."

"And you would like to answer honestly."

"Precisely."

The secretary remained silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Very well, Your Highness. I will revise the schedule."

Nero ended the call and headed toward the bathroom.

By seven, he had showered, dressed in a black formal jacket with restrained purple embroidery, and tied his white-blond hair neatly at the nape before joining the household staff for breakfast.

He opened the Southern Command reports beside his coffee.

Within fifteen minutes, he had identified two discrepancies the commanders had apparently hoped would disappear beneath the revised inventory summaries.

By seven thirty, Nero had decided several officers were going to have an exceptionally unpleasant afternoon.

Then his phone vibrated.

Sebastian.

Nero picked it up immediately.

Good morning, love. Did you sleep?

The tension in his chest loosened.

He smiled at the message, imagining Sebastian sitting against the pillows of his observation bed, dark hair disheveled from sleep while the monitoring equipment continued its quiet work around him.

Nero had spent the last month watching Sebastian recover in that room.

He knew the pattern of the amber lights above the bed, the soft electronic tones from the adjoining monitoring station, and the precise angle at which Sebastian preferred the headrest raised when he wanted to read.

He also knew that Sebastian still slept there every night.

Roberta had refused to discontinue continuous monitoring until his new secondary-gender system became sufficiently predictable, which meant that despite Nero’s increasingly creative attempts to negotiate alternative arrangements, Sebastian had yet to spend a night in his bed.

An outrageous situation.

One Nero intended to correct as soon as the physicians stopped behaving as though moving the monitoring equipment into his private suite constituted a threat to medical civilization.

He typed his reply.

Five hours. I am being exceptionally responsible.

Sebastian answered almost immediately.

Good. Stay that way.

Nero’s smile widened.

The temptation to tell Sebastian about his revised schedule was considerable.

Unfortunately, Sebastian would immediately begin explaining why flying through the night was unnecessary, why Nero should remain in Altera, and why a man capable of managing military operations should apparently also be capable of understanding that his fiancé would not die from spending another night without him.

Nero had heard the argument yesterday.

It had been reasonable.

He disliked it anyway.

I will see you soon, my moon.