To the Sun, To the Stars, To the Sky

8: A Grave To Accompany The Name Nico di Angelo

Nico POV

For some reason, my name seemed to truly be the only thing any of the others found important. They drilled me about it like their lives depended on it. I kept dodging the question, changing the subject, or, when I was feeling brave, just blatantly ignoring them.

The ride back was long, but the rebels kept me busy when the prince ran out of things to talk about. They sang, and one of them had a ukulele, and we were all laughing so hard there were several plunders where we almost fell off our horses. I had had to save W—the prince once, pulling him back on before it was too late.

The prince. I don't know what to say about him. Maybe another test, but it was unlikely. There weren't many rules about love in the army, and none that seemed to apply to him. I was terrified of him still. I had almost kissed him. I had looked him right in the face (what is it with me and breaking the most basic rules of the army?) and almost kissed him.

And aside from that, Thalia had tricked me into talking without permission this morning. Everything was falling apart; all the things I'd worked so hard to learn well as a soldier were crumbling before me and these rebels seemed to be excited about it. Of course they'd be excited. Jerks.

The prince shifted behind me, causing his arms to brush mine. My heart sped up and I shivered.

This is what I'm talking about. This is not Nico di Angelo—I was supposed to be fierce and bloodthirsty, and yet here I was, sharing a horse with the prince, shivering when his skin brushed mine, and almost kissing him by the river. Whatever this test was, I was failing miserably and I had better figure out how to turn that around again before this all catches up to me.

The singing rebels began a new song, but they were laughing too hard for me to make out the lyrics. I swore we only had water in these bottles we'd been given, but this group really acted otherwise. You'd think rebels would be scary. But then again, you'd think a soldier would be at least a little intimidating and yet that little girl, Hazel, had just fallen asleep on my last night. Figures that I would soften up like this right as I enter the rebel camp.

And what the hell was I supposed to do when we do get into the camp? This was something that had bothered me since the beginning. If I betray the camp, I betray my superiors and my prince, which isn't allowed. If I don't, I'm betraying my king and queen and the army, which is even more terrifying.

The rebels' song turned somber; it was a mourning song, about mourning both those who are lost and those about to be lost. I couldn't help but think I was definitely one of the ones about to be lost. With all these rules being broken, it didn't seem to make sense to hope that I could survive this whole thing unharmed.

Will—no, the prince nudged me, smiling, as the song changed again. A love song. He sang under his breath. I didn't.

I didn't think about how his voice actually sounded pretty nice. And I also didn't think about how attractive he was, what with the whole "sun-god" aesthetic he's got going on.

We arrived at the rebel camp and the cold dread sitting in my stomach refused to budge as I unmounted the horse and walked with the prince to take it back to the stables. He was still smiling, humming that song. It was quiet otherwise. I avoided looking at him.

"Can I ask you a question? It might be kind of personal."

I glanced at his feet and back over to the sky, which was dark and filled with stars again. "Sure, your majesty."

He led the horse into the stall. "Is—" He pauses, doubting himself. Then he starts again, and his uncomfortable tone tells me he knows this might be an awkward question: "Is the not looking at people, is that a soldier thing, or a you thing?"