Chapter 6

 

 

Ksar struggled to maintain the expression of polite interest as Councilor Xuvok talked his ear off about the bill he intended to propose in the next session of the Council. Normally, he had little patience for the man, but the alternative—exchanging small talk with members of high society—was even less appealing.

Taking a sip from his drink, Ksar glanced around the crowded ballroom of the First Royal Palace and suppressed a grimace, catching blatant stares from all over the room. He attended such social gatherings rarely for a reason. Or perhaps the fact that he attended them so rarely was the main reason he seemed to attract more stares than any other member of the royal families. A miscalculation on his part.

“…I hope I’m not overstepping, but I have to say I admire your restraint, Your Highness,” Councilor Xuvok said. “I’m not certain I’d be as indifferent if my bondmate appeared so…taken with another individual.”

Ksar gave him a flat look. “I beg your pardon?”

Xuvok fidgeted, his face reddening under his gaze. “Prince Seyn has been dancing with Ambassador Denev all evening. Surely you’ve noticed that?”

Ksar took another sip from his drink. He didn’t look Seyn’s way. “Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli can dance with whoever he wishes to dance. It’s of no consequence to me or our bond.”

“Of course,” Xuvok said hurriedly. “I meant no offense, Your Highness. Just…” He tugged at his tight cravat. “I hold you in very high esteem, and I strongly dislike the malicious gossip people—some other people, not me, of course—spread about Prince Seyn—Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli. I simply wanted to make sure that you were aware of it.”

Ksar barely held back a scathing comment. He would have to be blind and deaf to miss all the “malicious gossip” about Seyn’s behavior and their bond. It was hardly a secret that he and Seyn didn’t get along. Ksar was always careful to be polite when he talked about his supposed bondmate in public, but the fact that he largely ignored Seyn when they attended the same social events certainly wasn’t missed by the gossipmongers.

Ksar glanced at the other end of the ballroom where Seyn was holding court, surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and had to make an effort to keep his expression blank.

Seyn was still smiling at Ambassador Denev and touching his arm. Ksar didn’t need to read the Ambassador’s mind to know what he was thinking as he stared at Seyn’s mouth while Seyn chatted with him animatedly. Like most people in Seyn’s little entourage of admirers, Ambassador Denev was a foreigner, his biology—and sexual libido—not suppressed by the bond that most Calluvians had. One day that flirty little shit was going to end up in trouble.

But he wasn’t Seyn’s minder. Ksar wasn’t his anything. Contrary to what everyone thought, he wasn’t actually Seyn’s bondmate. There was no reason for him to pay any attention to what Seyn was doing. 

No reason at all.

Except Seyn was starting to cross the line of propriety, more than he usually did. If even an old, self-absorbed politician like Xuvok noticed Seyn’s behavior tonight, it would inevitably reflect poorly on Ksar, too.

“Speaking of my bondmate,” Ksar said. “I believe I promised him a dance. If you’ll excuse me, Councilor.”

Councilor Xuvok’s eyes widened. “Of course, Your Highness, of course,” he said quickly, failing to hide his surprise.

With a short nod, Ksar headed toward Seyn, projecting a mild compulsion not to engage him in conversation.

The crowd of Seyn’s admirers quieted down as he approached, their emotions a mix of surprise, apprehension, and discomfort. So they did remember that Seyn was betrothed. How nice of them.

As for the object of their affections, either Seyn was pretending not to see him or he was genuinely engrossed in his conversation with Ambassador Denev. Both options were equally irritating.

Hasty bows followed by a chorus of “Your Highness!” finally made Seyn turn his head. 

He stared at Ksar as conversations around them came to a halt.

After a significant pause that felt like an intentional slight, Seyn greeted Ksar with a shallow bow. “Yes?” he said, his face giving nothing away. He somehow managed to make a single word sound extremely aggravating.

Ignoring the stares and whispers, Ksar said, “I believe you promised me a dance.” Seyn had promised him no such thing, but Ksar didn’t expect him to call him out on his lie in such a public setting.

Seyn cocked his head to the side, his dark-red cravat loose enough to reveal the graceful curve of his neck to the greedy eyes of his hanger-ons. The color should have made him look pale and washed out, but to Ksar’s irritation, it only made those green eyes appear even deeper and more vibrant.

“A dance?” Seyn said, as if he’d never heard the word before, which was rich considering that he’d been dancing all evening with his legion of “friends.” Seyn looked around demonstratively before giving Ksar a sweet smile. “Sorry, but there’s no music. No one is dancing.”

Ksar glanced toward the musicians and tilted his head slightly.

They scrambled for their instruments, and a few moments later, the familiar opening notes of a traditional sanguinn sounded.

“Aren’t they?” Ksar said, offering his gloved hand to Seyn.

Seyn slipped his hand into Ksar’s, hissing, “Arrogant ass,” just for Ksar’s ears.

“Language,” Ksar murmured.

“Fuck you,” Seyn said with a sweet smile for the benefit of the other people watching them. “You are an arrogant ass. This is not your grand clan. You aren’t supposed to give orders here. The First Queen might take exception to your bossy attitude toward her subjects.”

“I’m the Lord Chancellor of the planet,” Ksar said, leading him to the center of the ballroom as other couples hurried to join them. “Technically, subjects of all grand clans are my subjects.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” Seyn said with a snort.

Ksar settled his hand on Seyn’s lower back. A sanguinn wasn’t a dance Ksar would have chosen himself—it was a little too intimate—but now they had no choice in the matter. 

“Since when do you dance with me?” Seyn said. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop making a spectacle of yourself,” Ksar said, leading him through the steps of sanguinn. “You were all but groping Denev all evening.”

“Groping?” Seyn said. “I touched his sleeve, you insufferable ass—” He cut himself off, and stared at Ksar. “All evening? I had no idea you were paying such close attention to me.”

Bowing to him, Ksar shot him a flat look but couldn’t refute it, because they had to switch their dance partners with the couple to their right.

When Seyn took his hand again, Ksar said, “I don’t need to pay any attention to your appalling conduct. There are always more than enough well-meaning people eager to tell me about it. You’re making me the laughingstock.”

Seyn smiled. “If you don’t want my ‘appalling conduct’ to reflect poorly on you, break my bond to you.”

Ksar looked over his shoulder. “It’s not that simple. I already told you that.”

“It’s been ten days,” Seyn said, gripping his shoulder harder. “You’ve had more than enough time to find a solution.”

Ksar said nothing.

“You know what?” Seyn said softly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you don’t want me to be free of you.”

Ksar gave a sharp laugh. The couples around them turned and stared at them, not even pretending anymore that they weren’t gawking. “Yes, that must be it,” Ksar said dryly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not that ridiculous,” Seyn said, his voice becoming honey sweet. Smiling, he met Ksar’s eyes. “I have ample evidence that you want me.”

Ksar struggled to keep his face expressionless. He didn’t appreciate being reminded of his lapse of self-control. “On a very superficial level. No more than I would want any passably good-looking man.”

“Passably good-looking?” Seyn glared at him, rage coming off him in searing waves. “I felt how much you enjoyed yourself when I…” He flushed, glancing around, and whispered into Ksar’s ear, “You loved making me suck your cock. You loved sticking your cock in me. You can’t deny it.”

Ksar licked his dry lips. “I’m not a slave to my baser instincts,” he said, even as his hand on Seyn’s lower back tugged him closer. “I assure you I don’t allow them to control me.”

Warm breath tickling the shell of Ksar’s ear, Seyn said in a low voice, “Are you saying that if I offer to suck your cock right now, you’ll say no?”

The cock in question twitched, and Ksar felt a twinge of disgust with himself. He wasn’t a slave of his body. He would be damned if he let his cock—and Seyn—manipulate his actions. Seyn didn’t want him. Seyn wasn’t physically capable of wanting. All he wanted was to manipulate him to achieve his goals.

Rationally, Ksar could almost admire Seyn’s shrewdness. The irrational part of him wanted to wring Seyn’s pretty neck for daring to play him.

“No,” he said coolly, looking Seyn in the eye. “But I won’t say no if Prince Aedan makes the same offer. Or Lord Zayne. Or your precious Ambassador Denev. I’m not particularly picky about where I put my cock. Even you will do.”

A look of pure hatred flashed across Seyn’s face. “Heavens, I hate you so much.”

Ksar bowed to him mockingly and strode away as the last notes of sanguinn sounded in the ballroom. 

He refused to be bothered by Seyn’s words. Seyn’s hurt pride was of no consequence to him. It was nothing the brat didn’t deserve for attempting to lead him by his cock. That should teach Seyn that trying to manipulate him was an exercise in futility. 

Ksar ignored the small voice at the back of his mind that said,

But why won’t you let him go?