Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Nero waited until the military conference room had emptied before calling Dean.

Dax had already left with two generals, taking the political map of Draxil and most of the room’s remaining patience with him. Staff moved quietly through the dark command chamber, shutting down projection screens one by one until only the map above Nero’s tablet remained illuminated.

He should probably have allowed Otto to inform Arion first.

That would have been respectful.

It would also have been considerably less entertaining.

Nero loosened the collar of his black shirt, left his jacket over the back of the chair, and opened the secure line.

Dean answered on the third ring.

His pale face appeared far too close to the camera.

"Nero."

"You look tired."

Dean immediately moved the tablet farther away. "You called after midnight."

"That does not explain your neck."

Dean’s violet eyes narrowed.

Behind him, Nero could see the pale stone and warm wood of one of the island villas. A fire burned along the far wall, and Boreas occupied most of the rug in front of it. Arion sat at the table several meters away with a collection of maps spread before him.

He looked over the moment he heard Nero’s voice.

"Nero," Arion greeted.

"Cousin."

Dean adjusted the collar of the black shirt he was wearing. It was very obviously Arion’s.

"What do you want?"

"I received Thomas’s and Sylvia’s wedding invitation."

Dean stared.

"That is why you called?"

"No. But apparently I received mine before you."

Dean’s expression sharpened with immediate offense.

Arion looked down at the maps, hiding absolutely nothing from anyone who knew him.

"When?"

"This afternoon."

"That traitor."

"Which one?"

"Sylvia. Thomas has always been unreliable."

Nero smiled and picked up the ivory invitation resting beside his tablet. The formal crest of Rohan was embossed across one side, with Palatine’s smaller mark beneath it for Sylvia’s family.

"They are planning it quickly."

"Thomas has probably had the wedding planned since Sylvia agreed to speak to him for more than five minutes."

"That was my assumption."

Dean leaned back into the sofa. "When is it?"

"Six weeks."

Dean’s brows rose. "That soon?"

"Apparently Thomas considers waiting unnecessary."

"That also sounds like him."

Nero set the invitation down.

"Which means you should probably find your missing prince."

Dean became suspicious.

Arion looked up fully this time.

Nero continued, "A royal wedding in Rohan will become inconvenient if my father invades Draxil immediately beforehand."

Silence.

Then Dean’s expression flattened.

"He said that?"

"He was very clear."

Arion reached across the table and turned the tablet slightly so he could see Nero directly.

"Otto has not called yet."

"I know."

"You decided to get ahead of him."

"Yes."

Dean gave Nero a long look. "You are enjoying this."

"A little."

Arion’s gaze remained more serious. "How far did Dax go?"

"Far enough that the generals are already discussing routes."

Dean stopped looking amused.

Nero did not exaggerate. There was no need.

"He will wait until you assess Amaru. If Amaru is alive and capable, Father is willing to let you pursue the succession route. If he is dead, incapable of governing, or refuses to return, Father considers negotiations with the other two brothers finished."

"And then Saha enters Draxil," Arion said.

"Yes."

Dean rubbed one hand over his face. "Wonderful."

"My father used less enthusiasm."

"I imagine he used more threats."

"Mostly logistics."

"That is worse."

Nero agreed.

Dax making an angry statement could be managed.

Dax asking generals which roads could carry armored units through winter meant the anger had already become policy.

Arion shifted several papers aside and rested his forearms against the table.

"Did Otto object?"

"To the consequences. Not entirely to the principle."

Dean looked toward his husband.

That mattered.

Alamina had spent months attempting diplomatic access to Claudia’s Palace. Otto was unlikely to approve an invasion casually, but if the beasts moved and Draxil continued refusing cooperation, the distinction between invasion and emergency intervention would become increasingly academic.

"What about Hendrik?" Dean asked.

"He wants Claudia’s Palace if there is any indication the dormant state is connected to Claudia’s work."

"That is not surprising."

"No."

Dean went quiet.

Nero watched his cousin’s expression change as the humor disappeared and the problem behind the conversation returned.

Snake Island.

Amaru.

An unknown man hidden for eight years who had suddenly become one of the few barriers between Draxil and a Saharian army.

"You do not need to make Amaru viable because Father is impatient," Nero said.

Dean looked at him.

Neither he nor Arion answered immediately.

"I know," Dean said eventually.

"I mean it."

"We already decided that," Arion said. "We assess the man we find, not the man we need."

Nero nodded.

That was what he had expected from them.

Dax’s deadline changed the political consequences. It could not be allowed to change their judgment.

Dean pulled his legs beneath him on the sofa. "And if Amaru is perfectly sane but wants nothing to do with Draxil?"

"Then I suggest you respect his answer before my father attempts to solve the problem with several divisions."

"You are very helpful."

"I called personally."

"To threaten us with your father."

"To warn you."

"With enjoyment."

Nero considered that. "Both can be true."

Dean’s mouth finally curved again.

Arion leaned back in his chair, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

"When did you become the reasonable member of your family?" Dean asked.

"I have always been reasonable."

Arion and Dean both stared at him.

Nero raised a brow. "That reaction is insulting."

Dean opened his mouth to escalate, but Nero immediately redirected him. "Thomas’s wedding."

"That was transparent."

"And effective."

Dean sighed and allowed it.

"Six weeks gives Dax plenty of time to invade somewhere and make the guest list complicated."

"That was my concern."

"Your concern was the guest list?"

"My suit has already been ordered."

Arion closed his eyes briefly.

Dean laughed.

"That is the most Saharian concern imaginable."

"I refuse to attend a royal wedding surrounded by military maps."

"You could wear your uniform."

"No."

"You look good in it."

"That is irrelevant."

"It is extremely relevant at weddings."

Nero smiled despite himself.

The conversation had become easier again, exactly as he intended.

They all understood the seriousness beneath it.

Nero cared whether Dean and Arion walked onto Snake Island and came back safely. Dean cared that Dax did not drag Saha into a war that would cost thousands of soldiers their lives. Arion cared enough about Nero to understand that another accusation from Draxil would not remain merely political while Dax was already looking for an excuse to act.

None of them needed to say it directly.

Dean glanced toward the clock beyond the camera.

"We are leaving for the next island tomorrow morning."

"I know."

"Of course you know."

"You published the itinerary."

"That was the point."

"And Snake Island?"

Dean looked toward Arion before answering.

"Soon."

Nero nodded once. "Be careful."

The simplicity of it quieted Dean for half a second.

Then he smiled, smaller this time.

"We will."

Arion inclined his head. "Keep Dax occupied."

Nero glanced toward the closed conference-room doors.

"That may be the more dangerous assignment."

Dean laughed again.

"Tell him he cannot invade before the wedding."

"I will explain that Thomas would find it inconsiderate."

"Thomas might invade with him."

Nero paused.

That was unfortunately plausible.

"Then find Amaru quickly."

Dean pointed toward the screen. "Do not put that on me."

"I am protecting the wedding."

"You are protecting your suit."

"That too."

Arion reached for the tablet.

"Goodnight, Nero."

"Goodnight."

Dean leaned toward the screen before Arion could end the call.

"And send me the invitation."

"No."

"Nero."

"I received mine first. I intend to enjoy that fact for another day."

The connection ended before Dean could answer.

Nero sat alone in the dim command room for a moment, looking at his reflection in the darkened screen.

Then he picked up Thomas’s and Sylvia’s invitation again.

Six weeks.

Enough time, theoretically, to find an exiled prince, prevent an invasion, access a palace everyone denied contained anything useful, and discover why thousands of infected beasts had suddenly gone dormant.

Nero ran his thumb across the embossed crest.

The wedding was going to be interesting.

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