Free Web NovelChapter 368: Chapter 368: Cooped Up
Nero entered his private rooms already unbuttoning his cuffs.
The doors sealed behind him with a soft electronic click, carved wood hiding modern locks, scent filters, pressure sensors, and enough surveillance shielding to make half the continent paranoid. Saha liked beauty, but it trusted reinforced systems more.
Tonight, Nero appreciated that.
He crossed the outer sitting room without turning on the full lights, letting the city glow through the dark glass wall. Saha stretched beneath him in ribbons of gold and violet, traffic moving through the royal district like veins under skin.
His fingers reached the first button of his shirt.
Stopped.
Then continued.
One button.
Then another.
Controlled.
Perfectly controlled.
He was not spiraling. He was not shaking. He was not flooding the room with pheromones or breaking furniture or proving everyone right about what an enigma became when too much truth was pushed under his skin.
He was simply furious.
The temple had turned the possibility of Sebastian becoming his into a warning. Arion had turned it into a tether. Sebastian, if he ever learned Nero knew, would turn it into another wall.
Nero reached the dressing room, pulled the shirt loose from his trousers, and let it hang open.
A bitter smile touched his mouth.
At least one thing had been confirmed.
He could do it.
That should have satisfied something in him.
Instead, it made him angry enough to taste blood.
Because Sebastian would hate it.
Nero slid his cuff links free and placed them carefully on the counter instead of throwing them.
He really wanted to.
His reflection watched him from the mirror: pale hair still tied back, shirt open, violet eyes calm enough to frighten anyone who did not know what that calm cost.
A soft chime sounded.
The inner door opened after Hale’s authorization.
Nero did not turn. "If this is about tomorrow’s coastal oversight brief, it can wait until morning."
"It is not," Hale said with the bored air of a man who had known Nero long enough to survive most of his moods. "Queen Christopher wants to see you. I swear he has a detector for when your mood goes to shit."
Nero threw the shirt onto the carpeted bench for the staff to collect later. "You heard what Arion said."
"Unfortunately, a very odd day to have good hearing."
Nero looked at him through the mirror.
Hale stood near the doorway, perfectly composed, hands clasped behind his back, earpiece still in place, expression bland enough to be insulting. He had not been inside the dining hall. He had not heard everything. The room had been sealed against ordinary listening and guarded against deliberate intrusion.
But Hale had been Nero’s shadow since Nero was old enough to be dangerous.
He did not need full sentences when he had fragments, posture, silence, and the way Nero removed his cuff links as if he were resisting the urge to bury them in a wall.
"How much?" Nero asked.
"Enough to know Arion came here carrying something he should not have given you."
"That is a broad category."
"And enough to know it involved Sebastian."
Nero’s smile was thin. "That is not broad at all."
"No."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The city glittered behind the glass. Somewhere in the district below, guards changed posts. The ventilation shifted quietly, drawing away even the smallest trace of Nero’s anger before it could settle in the room.
Hale’s gaze moved once over him, half-dressed and with no pheromones.
That last part worried him most.
Nero knew it.
"You are looking at me like Chris," Nero said.
"Then perhaps listen."
"I always listen to Chris."
"You selectively obey Chris."
"That is different."
"It is one of your worst habits."
"One of?"
"I am being polite."
Nero huffed, but the sound did not quite become laughter.
Hale did not push.
That was why he was still alive and why Nero had not replaced him despite having threatened to do so at least twelve times since turning fifteen. Hale knew when to speak and when to stand there like a locked door until Nero chose which part of himself he was willing to let out.
"Queen Christopher only wants to see you," Hale said after a moment. "He said you have been cooped up in your district too much."
Nero’s expression changed before he could stop it, but Hale saw it.
Of course Chris would phrase it like that. Not I miss you. Not come here, I am worried. Not whatever sentimental thing Dax would say and then disguise with arrogance. Chris was gentler than that when he wanted to be, and more dangerous because of it.
You have been cooped up.
As if Nero were still a child spending too many hours in his rooms.
As if the Crown Prince district were not an entire administrative wing with offices, guards, training rooms, briefing chambers, and a private residence larger than some noble estates.
As if all of that meant anything when Chris simply wanted his son nearby.
Nero looked away.
"I planned to shower."
"He said after you shower."
"I planned to read."
"He said the report can wait."
Nero’s gaze snapped back.
Hale’s face remained bland.
Nero narrowed his eyes. "You heard too much."
"I heard enough."
"That is becoming a habit."
"Your habits are worse."
Nero smiled.
Then he turned toward the bathroom. "Where is everyone?"
Hale understood the question because Hale had a gift for surviving royal families.
"His Majesty is in the east residence with Sahir and the authority-transfer files. Princess Nayra is in her own building. She sent word that she will see you at breakfast if you are emotionally tolerable."
Nero’s mouth curved despite himself.
Nayra, at eighteen, had moved into her own building with the composure of a princess who believed independence should have better windows, stricter privacy, and a kitchen that did not answer to anyone else’s diet plan.
"And Jax?"
"In the west wing of the main palace. He refused sleep until Chris promised you would visit tomorrow."
Nero’s expression softened again, more obviously this time.
Jax was seven, still small enough to be shameless and loved enough to weaponize it. He treated the main palace as his kingdom, the west wing as his fortress, and Nero’s schedule as an irritating suggestion made by adults with no imagination.
"I will see him after the meeting."
"I will tell him."
"Do not let him wait outside the chamber."
"I will try."
"Hale."
"He is seven and royal. I said I will try."
Nero laughed briefly; it helped more than he wanted to admit.
Hale watched the sound fade. "You should go to Chris."
"I said I would."
"No. You said many other things around the answer."
Nero gave him a flat look. "Twenty-five minutes."
"Twenty."
"I am not arriving at my mother’s rooms half-dressed."
"He has seen you worse."
"Hale."
"Twenty-five," Hale conceded, because sometimes winning meant pretending the other person had negotiated successfully.
Nero stepped into the bathroom, then paused with one hand on the doorframe.
"Hale.
"Yes?"
"If Arion asks whether you heard anything—"
"I heard nothing useful."
Nero’s smile returned, sharper now. "Good."
"And if Chris asks why you look like you want to murder a priest?"
Nero tilted his head. "Tell him it is a natural expression."
