Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Rohan wanted to say no. He was loath to stoop to something the rebels were routinely accused of—to live down to their reputation. But they needed all the leverage they could get. They couldn’t afford to be picky.
“Take Sirri with you,” Rohan said. “Her gift will be useful to avoid getting caught. Grab the apprentice and return to the Blind by midnight.” Although the TNIT could be activated almost anywhere on the planet, they would obviously want to avoid detection.
“You aren’t coming?” Sirri said, narrowing her eyes.
Rohan averted his gaze. “No. I have something to check on. I’ll be here by midnight, too. Don’t get caught.” And he strode away before either of them could say anything.
Something to check on. Right. Is that what we call it now?
His lips thinning, Rohan continued walking, toward the aircraft he’d hidden in the forest all those months ago.
If it was still there.
Chapter 16
She was so tiny.
Rohan stared at the baby sleeping soundly in her white crib and didn’t know what to feel.
All this year, he’d tried not to think about it—about the child he’d given Jamil as some kind of messed-up parting gift. But of course he had. Of course he had thought about it, regretting what he’d done. A child wasn’t something that should ever be gifted. If anyone found out that he’d given up his child—his firstborn—it would be a fucking disaster, a disaster for various reasons.
What had he been thinking? Right: he didn’t think at all. Jamil had simply looked at him pleadingly, feeling lost and so very lonely, and Rohan folded. Fucking pathetic.
She looked just like Jamil.
Rohan stared at the child, still not knowing what to feel. He had known about her existence for three months, ever since the Third Royal House announced the birth of the heir to the direct line.
Tmynne. Princess Tmynne’shni’veighli. What a grand name for such a small baby.
Rohan found himself reaching down and brushing his knuckles against her soft cheek. His hand looked very dark against her creamy white skin—as dark as it looked against Jamil’s. She was Jamil’s tiny little copy, down to the perfect bow of her mouth. Rohan couldn’t see a single piece of evidence that she was his daughter.
It didn’t matter.
He could feel her, very faintly, thanks to the rudimentary familial bond they shared, a bond that was possible only between close blood relatives.
She was Rohan’s daughter.
She was his daughter.
Except she wasn’t. He had given up the right to be called her father before she was even born. As far as everyone was concerned, Tmynne was the daughter of Jamil and his deceased husband. The product of their grand love story.
Rohan felt his lips twist into a sneer and jerked his hand away from the child. He didn’t want her to feel his ugly emotions.
He shouldn’t have come here.
He still didn’t know why he had.
Liar. You know exactly why you’re here.
Rohan ignored the thought, watching the sleeping child.
He should go. He had been incredibly lucky to get into the palace without getting caught. Security was tighter than it had been last time. Had he not lived in this palace for a while, he wouldn’t have managed to get inside even with his gift for compulsion. He shouldn’t have come. He should have gone with Warrehn and Sirri. Now that he’d seen the child and satisfied his curiosity, he was going to leave.
Right. Who are you trying to fool here?
Rohan clenched his jaw. He looked at the door. He should leave now if he wanted to get to the forest by midnight.
He didn’t move.
At the back of his mind, the bond pulsed hungrily, strengthening by the moment.
Rohan watched the door, his pulse skyrocketing and his heart starting to pound.
He knew who was approaching the room. He knew it as well as his own name. He should get the hell out of here.
He didn’t move.
He waited.
The door slid open.
Jamil strode inside, locked the door, and said, looking at some point to Rohan’s right. “What are you doing here?”
Rohan drank him in.
Jamil looked awful. He wasn’t as thin as he’d been eleven standard months ago, but he looked pale and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes.
He was still the best thing he’d ever seen.
Jamil cleared his throat a little, not meeting his gaze. “I repeat: what are you doing here? If you came to take Tmynne away—”
“If you really thought that, you would have called security already.” Rohan took a step forward, and then another one.
Jamil licked his lips, getting tenser by the moment. “You still didn’t say why you’re here.”
“I’m on Calluvia with a few of my friends. We have a lead that might—”
“I’m sure you’re on the planet on some very important rebel business,” Jamil said, his lips twisting. “What are you doing here?”
Rohan said nothing.
He had no explanation.
Silence fell over the room, the air thick with electric tension, like the atmosphere before a storm. Rohan felt himself move forward until he stopped in front of Jamil.