"No," Nero said.
The grin was gone so completely it felt like someone had drawn a blade through the air between them. His purple eyes cooled first, then his mouth, then the rest of him, until the bright, theatrical prince from Saha looked suddenly and terribly like Dax's son.
"I kept my promise," he continued. "I won't reach for him. I won't message him. I won't corner him in corridors, meetings, training fields, or whatever cursed corner of Alamina fate decides to throw us into." His gaze flicked briefly to Dean, then away. "We are even in different teams for the beast season."
Dean went still.
Arion's expression did not change, but something behind his eyes sharpened. "You requested that."
"Yes."
"Nero."
"No." Nero's voice stayed level. That was worse than anger. "He wanted distance. I gave him distance. He doesn't speak to me, and I take that as refusal. That was the agreement."
Dean's fingers tightened around his glass.
