Chapter 2

 

 

Calluvian Society Gossip

 

Prince Harht’ngh’chaali banished to a pre-TNIT planet!

 

The Second Royal House issued a press release stating that Prince Harht has been temporarily exiled to Sol III, a primitive planet half a galaxy away, as punishment for his “transgression.” The press release did not elaborate about the extent of the prince’s transgression, but there’s no doubt that it must be something serious if Queen Tamirs and the Crown Prince have decided to punish a member of their own family so harshly…

 

* * *

 

“Your Highness?”

Ksar frowned at the report in front of him. “I’ve requested no interruptions, Borg’gorn,” he told the AI.

“I apologize, Your Highness, but Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli is refusing to leave until he sees you.”

Ksar pinched the bridge of his nose. What did the brat want?

“Very well. Let him in.”

His lips thinned as Seyn strode into the room, all pale hair, flawless skin, and unnatural grace. For once, Seyn’s hair was pulled into a simple side braid that looked like it would fall apart from the slightest touch.

Ksar returned his gaze to the report in front of him. “What do you want?” he said coldly, checking his mental shields and finding them to his satisfaction. Being in the same room as Seyn was always aggravating, for several reasons.

“Are you crazy?” Seyn growled, marching to his desk and slamming his hands on it. “How could you do that to Harht, you sick fuck? Don’t you care about him at all?”

“Mind your foul tongue,” Ksar said. “And it wasn’t my decision to punish Harht that way. It was the Queen’s idea.”

Seyn scoffed. “As if she wouldn’t have changed her mind if you disagreed with her.”

“I’m flattered that you think I have so much influence over my mother, but the point is moot because I fully support her decision.”

Seyn glared at him from across the desk, his eyes full of fire and hate. “Are you out of your mind? Sending Harht to a pre-TNIT planet like Sol III is a recipe for disaster! He has zero survival skills! He thinks that nasty people don’t exist and he trusts everyone! He’s never been on another civilized planet, and you send him to some barbarian planet half a galaxy away, a planet with inhabitants that think aliens want to abduct them or some other stupid shit! He’ll give himself away or starve to death.”

“Are you done?” Ksar said. It irked him that Seyn thought he was being careless with his brother’s safety. The decision might have been the Queen’s, but he had carefully chosen the planet for Harht’s banishment. Sol III, or Terra, was diverse enough for Harht’s odd behavior to be written off as quirkiness. Harht had also been dropped in one of the most civilized countries of the planet. He should be fine. “First, the Queen’s decision isn’t up for discussion. You don’t even belong to our grand clan, so our affairs are none of your concern. Second, it’s a suitable punishment for Harht’s transgression. We all coddled him too much. It’s time for him to grow up and learn some life lessons. He’s on his own now. The distance between Calluvia and Terra is too great for familial bonds to work. It will make him appreciate his telepathic bonds and never abuse them again.”

Seyn met his eyes. “It’s hilarious that you, of all people, are talking about appreciating one’s telepathic bonds. I know our bond is pretty pathetic, but you don’t exactly strengthen it by blocking me off.”

Ksar held his gaze unflinchingly, wondering what Seyn would do if he knew the truth. He didn’t block Seyn out of his mind. There was no need. There had never been any need to do it.

Ksar still remembered the day of their bonding, all those years ago. He had been an eight-year-old, his mind an open wound from the death of his first bondmate, his senses dazed and disoriented. He could still remember with perfect clarity the moment he had been told to take a newborn infant into his arms as the mind adepts attempted to establish a bond between them. Seyn had been a tiny thing, born premature by two months, and it had taken the mind adepts four attempts before they finally concluded that the bond had taken.

At the time, Ksar had thought they were right. He could feel the child’s chaotic, mindless emotions, its need for comfort and safety. Since a child that young couldn’t communicate and had next to no telepathic abilities, it was impossible to determine that the bond had taken on Seyn’s end—or rather, on Ksar’s. Ksar had realized that something was off only months later when it became obvious that the infant couldn’t feel him at all—that and the fact that Ksar’s telepathic abilities had…changed.

The truth of the matter was that their bond was one-way: Seyn might be bonded to him, but he wasn’t bonded to Seyn. Not that Ksar had any intention to enlighten his supposed bondmate about the fact. If Seyn was under the impression that Ksar was blocking him out of his mind on purpose, so be it.

Being thought of as a neglectful bondmate was better than the alternative.

 “I thought we agreed that the less we interacted through our bond, the better,” Ksar said.

Seyn made a mock thoughtful face. “Funny that I don’t remember that conversation. Actually, I don’t remember us ever having an adult conversation that didn’t involve you criticizing me for every imaginary sin.”

“For us to have an adult conversation both of us actually have to be adults,” Ksar said, returning his gaze to the reports once again.

“I’m twenty-three,” Seyn gritted out. “I’m considered an adult on most other planets of the Union.”

There were several responses Ksar could think of, but he kept them to himself. All of them would have just escalated their argument. He had more important things to do than to have another pointless, aggravating argument with Seyn, no matter how tempting it was. It was far more tempting than it should have been. He didn’t have the excuse of not being an adult.

“Don’t you dare ignore me, asshole,” Seyn hissed, his anger flaring through the bond.

Sometimes Ksar wondered what it would have been like to have a fully functional bond with Seyn—how much more distracting it would have been—and it was a good thing he would never know. Having a one-way access to Seyn’s emotions was distracting enough already. 

The most aggravating part was, he had never been entirely successful at blocking Seyn’s emotions. No matter how strong his telepathic abilities were, Ksar could always feel a foreign need at the back of his mind: need for companionship, need for attention, sometimes need for comfort. Seyn had been a very emotional and needy child, and that hadn’t changed much over the years: he was an extrovert, who needed people and people’s companionship and attention to feel happy. He was Ksar’s complete opposite in that regard, and receiving the secondhand emotions of some needy child had irritated the hell out of him when he was younger. Thankfully, Seyn had learned to protect his mind better and stopped giving off so much need after their first meeting, but it was still distracting.

More distracting than it should have been.

Sometimes Ksar was tempted to break their one-sided bond completely—he could do it easily enough—but it would be foolish to do it when the consequences were unpredictable at best. Seyn might not feel him on the other end of the bond, but he would definitely notice the sudden disappearance of the bond. 

After all, connecting people’s minds wasn’t the primary function of the bond.

“Stop ignoring me!” Seyn said again, and even without looking at him, Ksar knew his green eyes were blazing with fury, his pale cheeks flushed, his pink lips folded into a fierce scowl. He was the only person of Ksar’s acquaintance who managed to become more attractive the angrier he got.

Ksar slid lower in his seat, irritated with himself. “Leave,” he said curtly, his eyes on his work. “I have no time for you.”

“You—” Seyn fumed for a few moments in silence before storming out of the room. 

As soon as the door shut after him, Ksar sighed. 

This was unacceptable.