Sebastian escaped the reception shortly before midnight.
Escaped was the correct word.
By then, his patience had survived three official speeches, two rounds of diplomatic congratulations, a dessert presentation he hadn’t requested, several relatives who apparently believed marriage permitted them to touch his sleeves, and enough photographs to document the event from every possible angle.
He had smiled through all of it.
Orin accompanied him out of the ceremonial wing with the solemn concentration of a man transporting state property. Melanie walked on Sebastian’s other side carrying two tablets and tomorrow’s preliminary schedule, while Rowan followed with one of the garment attendants. Duncan brought up the rear, silent and watchful despite having spent most of the day within three meters of Sebastian.
Their first destination was the private dressing suite.
Sebastian stood beneath the warm overhead lights while Madame Celestine’s staff dismantled his ceremonial clothing layer by layer. The white robe disappeared first, lifted carefully from his shoulders before two attendants spread it across a padded table and inspected the silver embroidery for loose threads. The deep-purple sash went into its own case. The ornamental chains were catalogued. Even the fitted black coat received enough attention to make Sebastian wonder whether the palace intended to preserve him along with it.
He waited in his undershirt and trousers, arms folded.
Orin glanced toward him.
"We are almost finished, Your Highness."
"You said that fifteen minutes ago."
"This time it is accurate."
Melanie lowered one of her tablets. "Tomorrow’s schedule is already in your rooms."
Sebastian looked at her.
"Burn it."
"I can remove the morning briefing."
"Now you’re negotiating."
Duncan’s mouth twitched.
Sebastian caught it immediately.
"You’re enjoying this."
Duncan returned his attention to the tablet in his hand with suspicious speed.
Rowan coughed softly into his fist.
Sebastian considered fighting all of them.
Unfortunately, he was too tired.
By the time the last garment case was closed and transferred into secure storage, the muscles between his shoulders ached from the weight of the robe, his feet hurt, and his face felt strange after maintaining appropriate expressions for people he would struggle to identify tomorrow.
He dismissed everyone from the outer sitting room.
Melanie left the schedule on the table despite his earlier instructions.
Orin promised breakfast at a humane hour.
Rowan wished him good night with the kind of smile that suggested he remembered Nero as a child and found the entire day privately hilarious.
Duncan remained longest, confirming that Sebastian had experienced no further cramps and reminding him where the medication was kept before finally accepting that Sebastian intended to sleep rather than spontaneously collapse.
The bedroom was quiet when Sebastian entered.
Nero was already there.
He had showered and apparently grown impatient with the process of drying several feet of white-blond hair. It fell completely dry over his shoulders and down his back, faint residual warmth from his pheromones lingering around it. His formal clothes had vanished, leaving him in black boxers and absolutely nothing else.
Sebastian stopped inside the doorway.
Nero looked over from beside the bed.
Sebastian pointed at him.
"We are not having sex."
Nero’s eyebrows rose.
"I haven’t asked."
"You’re standing there almost naked."
"I sleep almost naked."
"You also weaponize it."
A hint of amusement appeared in Nero’s violet eyes.
Sebastian kicked off his shoes and started undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt as he crossed toward the bathroom.
"Tomorrow will probably involve another twelve hours of relatives, diplomats, photographs, food I won’t have time to eat, and people congratulating me as though I personally discovered marriage. I refuse to begin it sore."
Nero leaned one hip against the bedpost, his gaze following Sebastian without making any attempt to approach.
"You look exhausted."
"I am."
That erased most of the amusement from Nero’s face.
Sebastian paused at the bathroom door and looked back.
Nero had been touching him almost constantly throughout the reception, yet now he stayed exactly where he was, giving Sebastian space without needing to be told.
Some of Sebastian’s irritation drained away.
"Bed," he said.
Nero inclined his head.
Sebastian disappeared into the bathroom before the sight of him could weaken his resolve.
The shower helped.
Hot water worked slowly through the tension across his neck and shoulders, washing away hair products, the perfume of too many people who had hugged him, and the lingering heat trapped beneath several layers of ceremonial clothing.
He stayed beneath the water until his thoughts finally quieted.
He was married.
The fact still felt strange.
Tomorrow evening would be different.
No officials standing beside them. No diplomatic language. No legal clauses involving military authority and inheritance. No hundreds of people watching their faces.
Just Nero and their vows.
The part of the marriage they had deliberately kept for themselves.
Sebastian closed his eyes beneath the water.
For no reason he could identify, a faint pressure settled beneath his ribs.
It lasted only a moment.
A strange unease, too brief to call fear, followed by the distant impression of red that vanished before he could catch hold of it.
Sebastian opened his eyes.
Nothing.
He had experienced enough fragments over the years to know better than to chase one that barely existed.
Exhaustion, probably.
He shut off the water.
When Sebastian returned to the bedroom in loose sleep trousers and an old dark shirt, Nero was sitting against the headboard with a tablet resting across one thigh.
Niva occupied the rug beneath the windows.
Sebastian pointed toward her.
"She is staying there."
Niva lifted her head.
Nero glanced at the tiger. "Agreed."
Her purple eyes moved between them with obvious skepticism.
Sebastian climbed into bed and stretched onto his back with a long groan.
Nero immediately put the tablet aside.
"Cramping?"
"Wedding."
Nero’s shoulders relaxed.
"That is not a medical diagnosis."
"It should qualify after today."
He shifted closer, stopping before his hand reached Sebastian.
Sebastian noticed the hesitation and rolled onto his side.
"You can touch me. I prohibited sex, not contact."
Nero needed no further invitation.
One long arm slid around Sebastian’s waist and drew him against a warm bare chest. Sebastian settled with his back against him, Nero’s legs fitting behind his beneath the sheets.
A kiss landed softly against his damp hair.
Sebastian exhaled.
Much better.
Nero’s palm rested over his abdomen at first, careful and warm where the cramps had struck days earlier. After several minutes, it drifted higher, settling over Sebastian’s chest.
Directly above his heart.
Sebastian opened his eyes in the darkness.
Nero’s fingers moved once against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady beat beneath them.
"You’re being strange."
"I married you today."
"That does seem to have affected you."
Nero pressed his face briefly into Sebastian’s hair.
Sebastian covered Nero’s hand with his own.
Tomorrow night, Nero would probably become unbearable again. There would be private vows, whatever wedding gift he was obviously hiding, and at least one obscenely expensive object Sebastian would have to pretend not to like immediately.
The thought made him smile.
"I still expect an explanation for whatever you bought me."
"You’ll get it tomorrow."
"That sounds expensive."
Silence.
Sebastian groaned.
"Nero."
A quiet laugh warmed the back of his neck.
Sebastian squeezed his hand and closed his eyes again.
Tomorrow evening belonged to them.
For tonight, the palace had finally gone quiet, Nero’s arm was around him, Niva was breathing steadily near the windows, and Sebastian was too tired to worry about a fleeting sensation he could no longer remember clearly.
He fell asleep with Nero’s hand still resting over his heart.