Alamina’s imperial palace was alive with servants, guards, officials, aides, military personnel, and nobles attempting to appear important in the presence of people who were actually doing important work. But the sharp tension from the campaign that had settled over the halls during the fighting had eased into something steadier now that the lines held and the infected zones had been pushed back.

Nero walked through the western corridor beside Hale with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat, his long white-blond hair still slightly damp from a rushed shower after the final debriefing.

General Hendrik’s last words lingered somewhere in the back of his mind.

’Effective season.’

’Acceptable losses.’

’Improved containment.’

’Pending review for next year.’

Which, translated from Hendrik into ordinary language, meant:

’Congratulations. Nobody catastrophically failed.’

Nero considered that a touching emotional speech.

"You’re smiling again," Hale observed.

"I survived thirty-seven hours of Hendrik discussing logistics. I deserve rewards."

"You started a fire in briefing room three."

"It was symbolic frustration."

"It was a scented candle."

Nero looked thoughtful. "Still symbolic."

Hale sighed like a man who had accepted suffering as a career path years ago.

They turned another corridor, sunlight spilling through the high windows in pale gold strips across the marble floor. Nero’s mood had improved steadily since the last report had been signed. The season was over. Saha’s delegation would return home soon. Dax would pretend not to interrogate him for six hours straight. Chris would absolutely interrogate him emotionally within the first fifteen minutes.

And Hale...

Nero’s smile widened slightly.

Hale was still here and accepted formally as chief of security.

"You’re planning something," Hale said immediately.

"That accusation lacks trust."

"That accusation has evidence."

Nero opened his mouth to reply.

Then stopped.

Someone was approaching from the opposite corridor.

Sebastian.

He looked cleaner than he had during the campaign, but not fully rested yet. His long black hair was tied back loosely, his dark uniform exchanged for formal black clothing that still carried the stiffness of someone who had not entirely left command mode behind.

For one brief moment, something ugly and instinctive inside Nero sharpened with immediate hunger.

’Mine.’

He buried it before it reached his face.

Sebastian slowed when he saw them.

Nero watched the exact second calculation settle behind those green eyes: Sahan prince. Hale. Corridor etiquette. Distance. Safety.

Then Sebastian bowed his head politely.

"Your Highness."

Perfectly appropriate.

Perfectly controlled.

Nero inclined his head in acknowledgment with equal perfection.

"Marquis Sebastian."

And then he kept walking. There was no teasing smile, no getting too close, and no intentional pheromone pressure.

Nothing.

Just the polished calm of royalty passing another noble in a corridor.

Beside him, Hale stayed silent.

Behind them, footsteps remained still for exactly one second longer than necessary.

Then Nero heard it.

A soft exhale of relief.

Relief that Nero had not approached him, that the promise was still respected, and that there was no trick to make them have a reason to talk.

The sound hit Nero harder than any insult Sebastian had ever thrown at him.

His jaw tightened, teeth almost cracking from the pressure.

Hale heard the sound too.

Unfortunately.

He did not look back. That alone was an act of loyalty.

Nero kept walking with the same measured pace expected from a prince raised under cameras, court tutors, military instructors, and enough diplomatic disasters to qualify as psychological warfare. Only the slight tension along his shoulders betrayed anything at all.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then Hale said carefully, "That was mature."

Nero’s smile became terrifyingly pleasant.

"Should I kidnap him and finish this petty game?"

Several nearby aides immediately accelerated their walking speed.

Hale sighed like a man punished personally by the entire Sahan pantheon and continued beside him without visible concern. "You promised me you would wait and do this smartly."

"I am being smart," Nero replied. "I haven’t committed any felonies in at least..." He checked an invisible watch. "Two weeks."

"That is not the reassuring timeline you think it is."

Nero’s smile sharpened. "You wound me."

"No, Sebastian apparently already handled that."

That landed cleanly.

Nero’s expression flickered for half a second before smoothing again into princely perfection.

Hale grinned.

"You know what the worst part is?" Nero asked lightly.

"I suspect you’re going to tell me regardless."

Nero’s smile turned faintly crooked, softer around the edges in a way that somehow looked more dangerous than the sharp version.

"He doesn’t hate me," he said. "His pheromones are warm under all that tight little control every time I meet him."

Hale looked genuinely disturbed by that statement.

"You terrify me with how you can smell that through suppressants."

Nero looked offended. "Please. I’m not uncivilized. I don’t ignore suppressants."

"That is not the reassuring part of the sentence."

"The point," Nero continued with the patience of a prince explaining obvious things to lesser mortals, "is that Sebastian’s body reacts before his pride does."

Hale rubbed a hand down his face. "You are talking about him like a military weather report."

"I’m talking about him accurately."

"You’re talking about him like you’ve memorized his heartbeat."

Nero’s expression remained perfectly composed.

That silence answered enough.

Hale made a quiet, exhausted sound. "Oh, that’s catastrophic."

Nero ignored him elegantly.

"He bows properly every time," Nero continued. "He maintains distance. He follows etiquette. He avoids being alone with me." His mouth curved slightly. "And every single time, his scent still warms."

Hale glanced sideways at him. "Did you tell your parents about this new skill of sensing pheromones even under suppressants?"

Nero grinned. "No."

Hale immediately looked suspicious. "That smile means the answer should concern me."

"It probably would," Nero admitted cheerfully. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Hale stared at him for a long second. "Nero."

Nero’s grin widened.

"I merely discovered," he said with terrible elegance, "that suppressants are less effective when the alpha in question matters enough to you."

Hale’s expression flattened instantly. "You are speaking about pheromones like a man conducting illegal theology."

"Thank you."

"That was criticism."

Nero ignored him smoothly. "Father would absolutely weaponize this information within six minutes. Chris would become emotionally invested. Rowan would call three doctors and one geneticist."

"And your grandfather?"

Nero’s eyes gleamed with open malice now. "Sahir? He would ask whether Sebastian’s scent destabilizes around other dominant alphas too."

Hale went silent.

"...You already checked."

Nero looked deeply offended. "I am not insane."

A pause.

Then, with unbearable innocence, "I simply observe him during social events."

"You are a biological threat."

"You say the sweetest things."