Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I believe you haven’t seen Seyn’ngh’veighli since he was a tiny, red newborn,” Queen-Consort Faryda said, glancing at Seyn with a mild but indulgent smile. “I think our boy has changed quite a bit since then, don’t you think?”
It was probably blatantly obvious how much his mothers doted on him, and Seyn flushed from embarrassment. As the youngest in the family, he’d always been the focus of his mothers’ doting love, which Seyn shamelessly used to get his way, but it was mortifying when they coddled him in front of an audience. Especially when the audience was his seemingly perfect betrothed. He didn’t want to look like a kid.
Ksar’s gaze swept slowly over Seyn’s less-than-formal attire. He raised his eyebrows a little.
Seyn narrowed his eyes. “Yes, Mother,” he said, refusing to look embarrassed. It was none of that ass’s concern what he chose to wear. There was nothing wrong with his clothes, anyway. He was fourteen, not forty, and he didn’t have a stick up his ass. “We have never met. His Highness seems to be a very busy person. He’s always otherwise engaged when I visit his brother.”
Queen Janesh cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Seyn…”
Seyn could perfectly hear the warning in his mother’s voice. He could feel his mothers’ disapproval through their familial links to him. He ignored it. He glared at Ksar, who stared back at him impassively, as though Seyn was a strange, irritating creature that had just performed an unexpected trick.
Ugh! Seyn’s hands practically itched to…to mess up that perfectly tied cravat, or maybe punch that top-lofty ass in the face; anything to wipe that superior expression.
“You will make no such scene,” an unfamiliar voice said in his head.
Seyn froze, staring at Ksar, wide-eyed. He had never spoken to Ksar, but that voice could belong only to him. Only bondmates could communicate in actual sentences through telepathy—or if one was a high-level telepath, but since both of them were mere Class 2 telepaths, the bond was the only explanation for his ability to hear Ksar’s voice.
Despite his shock, a very large part of Seyn was relieved. His bond actually worked. There was nothing wrong with him.
“He has indeed changed,” Ksar said aloud, his voice a deep monotone that sounded nothing like the scathing voice in Seyn’s head.
Seyn did a double take and frowned slightly. He wasn’t an expert on telepathy, but as a rule, people’s telepathic voice sounded exactly like their real voice. Weird.
“He definitely isn’t quite as red,” Ksar said in the same flat voice, and Seyn’s mothers laughed, as though Ksar had said something incredibly witty. Ha fucking ha.
Seyn had no idea how to communicate through their bond—it wasn’t like he’d had any practice—so he thought as loudly as he could,
“Very funny. And don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
Ksar flicked his gaze to him for a moment before returning it to Seyn’s mothers. He engaged them in some small talk that gradually shifted into a more serious discussion about politics.
Seyn scrunched up his nose. Ugh, politics. Boring.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a prince? Perhaps you should try paying attention.”
Seyn flinched. “Are you eavesdropping on my thoughts?” He glowered at Ksar’s profile. One would never guess Ksar was anything but attentive as he listened to Queen Janesh. “Also, I could never hear you before. Why?”
There was a small pause before Ksar replied.
“Your mind is undisciplined and chaotic. Your excited childish gibberish has always been extremely distracting, so normally I block you.”
Seyn took a deep breath and counted to ten, telling himself that murdering the Crown Prince of the Second Grand Clan would surely start another Great War.
“Why does no one know what a two-faced asshole you are? A perfect gentleman, my ass!”
“That’s the last time I’m letting you get away with such language, boy.”
“Don’t you call me boy! And you aren’t the boss of me. You are in my house, not yours. I will talk how I want, I will dress how I want, and I will—”
Ksar pulled out of his mind.
It was such a strange feeling. Suddenly he was just aware of the absence of something that he hadn’t even noticed until then. Glaring at the asshole’s nape, Seyn focused hard and tried to follow the mental footprints that Ksar had left in his mind. It took an incredible effort, but finally, he managed it.
He wished he hadn’t.
Because now he could feel it: a thick, impenetrable wall, blocking the way and making him physically nauseous and dizzy every time he touched it. It emanated wrong-not wanted-keep away.
Seyn staggered back, hurt and rejection welling up in his chest and making it hard to breathe.
Ksar turned his head. Something flickered in his eyes before they became unfathomable. He could undoubtedly see that Seyn was crushed by his rejection, and Seyn fought the tears of anger and utter humiliation threatening to spill from his eyes.