Chapter 12

 

“Why are you always so nasty to him?” Harry said as soon as Seyn was gone.

Ksar looked at his younger brother and pursed his lips, not knowing what to say.

He knew what it looked like, of course. He was perfectly aware he behaved like a right bastard where Seyn was concerned. Partly, it was intentional. Partly, it was out of genuine irritation with the brat. Partly, it was out of frustration with the situation.

In short, it was complicated.

It always had been, though he definitely hadn’t felt any animosity towards Seyn when he was a newborn infant who was supposed to become his bondmate. At the time, he’d been dizzy with pain and nausea, and he just wanted the pain to stop. The mind adepts had been confident that bonding him again would stabilize the remnants of his first bond.

They had been correct, at least in that regard. After Seyn had been bonded to him, the pain had stopped, but while the mind adepts hadn’t noticed that the connection was-one sided, it hadn’t taken Ksar long to figure out that something was wrong. While his eight-year-old self hadn’t exactly been thrilled to be bonded to an infant who couldn’t even communicate and cried all the time, Ksar had done his part and tried to comfort the child to the best of his ability when Seyn’s undeveloped telepathy reached out to him. Except it didn’t work: the baby had never shown any sign of noticing his efforts to soothe it.

 When he realized that the infant couldn’t feel him at all and his own telepathy was off the charts, the child that was supposed to be Ksar’s bondmate had become nothing but an annoying burden—and a source of constant guilt.

Even back then, Ksar’s younger self had known that if he told someone that the bond was one-sided, the mind adepts could likely fix it—and the baby crying at the back of his mind would stop being so miserable and confused. But by that time, Ksar already knew what the childhood bond did to one’s mind and telepathy. He hadn’t been willing to be bound again.

So he hadn’t told anyone. 

Instead, Ksar had focused on controlling his telepathy. He raised his mental shields, and did his best to ignore the needy little voice at the back of his mind. (Are you there? Where are you? Please talk to me.) Except ignoring it had never been easy, and he’d resorted to shielding himself from the connection completely. At the time, he’d still been a child himself and his control hadn’t been anywhere near as good as it was now, so he had been forced to shield himself from all his telepathic connections, the ones to his family included.

Although it had been his own choice, the lonely boy he had once been had resented the needy infant for forcing him to shield himself from his familial bonds, too.

Guilt was a peculiar thing. It could twist itself into irrational resentment and dislike quite easily. 

He had managed to avoid the young Prince Seyn for as long as he could: fourteen years.

Meeting him in person for the first time had been an unwelcome reminder that the needy, hurt presence at the back of his mind was a real person—a teenager with huge green eyes full of resentment and hope, whose mind still begged for his attention.

It had been aggravating. Ksar had thought he was no longer capable of feeling guilt, and it had been irritating when the sharp-tongued boy proved him wrong in that regard. Guilt wasn’t an emotion Ksar had ever been particularly fond of.

But it wasn’t irritation that had made him be rude to the brat. His rudeness had always been carefully calculated. Seyn couldn’t find out that there was something wrong with the bond, so making Seyn think that Ksar had been neglecting their bond—and Seyn—on purpose all these years had been the only course of action he could have taken. Acting like an asshole was also supposed to discourage Seyn from wanting to be anywhere near him, which would reduce the chances of his learning the truth.

It had worked the way he had planned. His condescending, borderline rude attitude ensured that Seyn wanted nothing to do with him and remained oblivious about the state of their bond.

But there was a factor Ksar hadn’t taken into account, something he hadn’t expected at all: as Seyn grew older, he had trouble ignoring Seyn as he was supposed to.

Ksar had watched uneasily as his bondmate transformed from a mouthy boy into a beautiful, spirited young man. It was incredibly ironic that the brat who had been the bane of his existence, the one person who could ruin his life and career, the one person who hated him more than anything, the one person who would never look at him with something other than rage and hatred even if he knew the truth, was the personification of everything Ksar wanted—and couldn’t have.

It didn’t exactly help that with each passing year that brought them closer to Seyn’s twenty-fifth birthday, Ksar could no longer avoid thinking about what he was going to do when the time for their marriage ceremony came. He’d always known that his options were very limited. In fact, he had exactly one feasible option: to mess with Seyn’s mind—and the mind adept who performed the bonding ceremony—and make Seyn think their marriage bond was perfectly functional. 

The thought had never failed to put Ksar in a foul mood. Although he had never claimed to be a good man and had done his share of manipulating people for political gain, he’d never been keen to manipulate Seyn’s mind. It had always been an option he’d ignored. He could have manipulated Seyn’s memories and made him think that Ksar had been a perfectly nice, considerate bondmate all along, which would have been the path of least resistance if he hadn’t found the idea so distasteful. It was enough that his perceived rejection made the boy feel neglected; he wanted to avoid outright manipulating Seyn’s mind unless it absolutely couldn’t be helped.

Forcing Seyn to believe that they had a marriage bond—and forcing him to share Ksar’s bed as a result—had never been something he looked forward to. He might not be a good man, and sometimes he might have been infinitely tempted to stuff that mouthy little shit with his cock, but he wasn’t a fucking rapist. And for all intents and purposes, that would be rape. Brainwashing and rape. A man’s sexual fantasies had nothing to do with reality. 

And the reality of the situation was that Seyn had always made him feel like one sick bastard for everything he had done to him, everything he would do, and everything his body wanted to do to him. Needless to say, he’d always felt conflicted and snappish whenever Seyn was around.

But now Seyn knew the truth. Seyn was no longer bonded to him. There was no need to ever brainwash him—because there would be no marriage.

It should have been a relief. It was. And it wasn’t.

Ksar pushed the thought away, suppressing his frustration and irritation. One would think that breaking Seyn’s bond would stop making him feel so conflicted, but it had made things more complicated, just in a different way.

But it was neither the time nor the place to be thinking about Seyn. He also wasn’t going to think about the way Seyn had looked at him a little while ago: with that disgusting faith in his eyes, as if he believed there was nothing Ksar couldn’t do if he put his mind to it. That faith might have been subconscious, but it was still there, and Seyn had no business looking at him like that when he claimed that he couldn’t wait to be completely free of him so that he could have sex with people he actually wanted. For someone who loathed him, Seyn had too much faith in his ability to perform miracles.

And it would take nothing short of a miracle to find a solution for Harht’s situation.

 “That’s irrelevant,” Ksar said. “We have more important things to discuss.”

“What important things?” Harht muttered, looking down at his hands. They were shaking. They were shaking so badly Harht didn’t seem to be able to stop the tremors even when he clasped his hands.

Ksar eyed him with a small frown. Harht didn’t seem to be all there, lost in his mind, misery coming off him in waves. Ksar could catch snatches of his thoughts without even delving into his mind again, and soon it became obvious Harht was working himself up into a panic attack, his breathing getting labored and his eyes dazed and lost.

“Harht,” Ksar said sharply. “Breathe. Harry!”

His brother flinched, opening his mouth and closing it, trying to breathe and failing.

Dammit.

In a few long strides, he was by Harht’s side and was pulling him into his arms. Harht clung to him, his eyes squeezed shut, tremors racking his body. Ksar held him, his throat uncomfortably tight, his unseeing gaze fixed on the opposite wall. 

It had been years since he’d last hugged the kid. Harht had probably been seven or eight, a tiny thing with huge violet eyes full of trust and hero worship for his big brother. He’d always looked at Ksar like he could do no wrong.

And he’d let him down.

His expression resolute, Ksar pulled back. He tipped Harht’s face up and looked him in the eye.

“I can’t promise you that it will be easy, Harry,” he said, making sure to use Harht’s preferred human name. Judging by the slight widening of Harry’s eyes, he didn’t miss it. 

“It won’t be,” Ksar said. “But I promise you that I will find a solution.” He thought about what he would have to do, and his lips twisted into something ugly and bitter. “By any means necessary.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

To say the Queen was displeased by the news was to say nothing. But she didn’t say anything, standing silent as her husband comforted their youngest son.

She exchanged a look with Ksar, her face blank but her eyes glinting with fury.

Ksar shook his head and said quietly, “I’ll handle it.”

Queen Tamirs eyed him carefully, her expression inscrutable. “Can you?”

Ksar rolled his shoulders and nodded. 

A furrow appeared between her brows. “Be careful,” she said.

Ksar shot her a sharp look. Sometimes he wondered if she knew about him, but he didn’t make an effort to find out. If she wanted to claim ignorance, that was her choice. It was probably safer that way.

With a clipped nod, Ksar left the Queen’s office. He was glad that he hadn’t had to influence his parents’ minds to make them more…open-minded about Harry’s situation. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in the family with a soft spot for their youngest member. Not that Ksar had expected the Queen to disinherit her favorite son, but he hadn’t been certain that her love for Harht would be stronger than her prejudice against “lesser societies.” Granted, the Queen hadn’t exactly been happy to hear the news that her youngest son had taken some pre-TNIT barbarian for a life partner, but all in all, it had gone smoother than Ksar had expected. Their parents’ concern for Harry had outweighed their dismay by the situation. Harry was going to need their parents’ unconditional support while Ksar solved the problem of Harry’s bond to Leylen’shni’gul and the fact that legally Harry couldn’t have a relationship with the human.

Ksar pursed his lips. He still couldn’t say he was happy with the fact that Harry literally needed his human. Initially, he had been skeptical of Borg’gorn’s assessment of the situation until he checked Harry’s mind himself.

What he had seen in Harry’s mind was beyond disturbing. Harry’s mind had always been warm and bright, full of happy, if naive, thoughts. Now it was dull and gloomy, lifeless and devoid of any excitement. Harry’s brain was confused and sluggish, his core pulsing with such raw need that it nearly made Ksar sick. Harry was also in immense pain, but his brain didn’t seem to work correctly for him to feel it fully. The bond around Harry’s telepathic core didn’t make matters better, messing with the already suffering mind and body. Ksar couldn’t imagine constantly living with that kind of pain and unsatisfied need. He didn’t think Harry could last long without going insane or his brain finally shutting down.

So regardless of his own thoughts on the matter, he would have to get Harry what he needed: that human of his.

Ksar gritted his teeth and strode toward his office. 

He was annoyed by the situation. Though, perhaps annoyance wasn’t the correct word. Cold rage fit better. He wanted to kill that human. Harry was still a kid. It wasn’t Harry’s age that was the problem—Ksar had been on hundreds of planets and was well aware that the Calluvian age of majority was considered rather old by most races’ standards. Harht was twenty-three, old enough to make his own decisions. No, the problem wasn’t Harht’s age, per se; it was his naivety and trustfulness. Harht had been too sheltered all his life. He hadn’t even attended an off-planet school, as most Calluvian princes did. Their parents had always babied Harht too much and he had grown up disgustingly naive and nice.

Ksar hadn’t had an opportunity to observe Adam Crawford for long, but he was familiar with the type: the handsome, confident type that fucked every attractive thing. Harht deserved better.

But it didn’t matter now, did it?

Ksar pressed his hand against the scanner and the door to his office whooshed open. 

“Borg’gorn, the information I requested,” he said, seating himself behind his desk.

A hologram appeared in front of him.

The AI replied, “The data is not complete, but the initial research indicates that twenty-three percent of the Ministry’s Lord Chancellors would like for the laws regarding pre-TNIT races to be softened. Forty-six percent do not have particularly strong feelings on the matter. Thirty-one percent firmly agree with the law.”

Ksar hummed thoughtfully. Twenty-three percent was better than expected. He could work with that.

“Has the Queen-Consort of the Sixth Grand Clan accepted my invitation?”

“Yes, Your Highness. She’ll be here shortly.”

“Good.” Ksar leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His mind raced with possibilities, considering and discarding them quickly.

He wished he didn’t have to choose that route.

For a moment, he wondered again if it would have been easier to simply smuggle Harht to Earth as Seyn had suggested, but he dismissed the idea again. To do that, he would have had to completely subdue  the teleporter technicians’ wills, erasing their memories again and again each time they saw in the teleporter’s history that Harht had teleported to Earth. Even if it were feasible—which it wasn’t, because Ksar was too busy—there was nothing he could have done to keep the technicians’ bondmates out of their minds; they would have noticed immediately that something was amiss.

No, the political route was safer and less convoluted in the long run. 

He’d made the right choice.

“The Queen-Consort of the Sixth Grand Clan is here, Your Highness,” Borg’gorn said.

Ksar opened his eyes and straightened in his chair. “Let her in.”

The door opened and Queen-Consort Zeyneb’shni’waari strode in confidently.

Ksar didn’t stand up. It would be the polite thing to do, but it certainly wasn’t required or expected of him. As the Crown Prince of the Second Grand Clan and the future king of his clan, Ksar’s social standing was higher than Lady Zeyneb’s and they both knew it. Lady Zeyneb was neither a friend nor an ally—yet—and any false courtesy would only make her suspicious. He couldn’t appear too eager.

“Ksar’ngh’chaali,” she said with a smile. “I was pleasantly surprised to receive your message, given that you declined to support my bill last time.”

“Were you?” Ksar murmured, looking her in the eye. A quick look into her thoughts revealed nothing he hadn’t expected: she was curious and eager to use this opportunity to further her political goals. She was also wary of him. She didn’t trust him.

Good. She wasn’t completely foolish. He didn’t need foolish allies.

“It’s actually the reason I requested this meeting,” Ksar said. “I’m willing to reconsider my stance.” 

Zeyneb cocked her head to the side. “And what changed your mind?”

Ksar smiled.

She shifted, looking a little uneasy.

“You adopted brother is the Lord Chancellor of Planet Kiwufhi,” he said. “I have heard that he’s going to propose a bill in the next session of the Ministry.”

She frowned, looking confused but intrigued. Ksar knew she wasn’t interested all that much in intergalactic politics.

“What kind of law?” she said.

“Repeal of the 156th Ministry law,” Ksar said.

She stared at him. “I’m sure you must have heard wrong,” she said slowly. “That would be political and social suicide. It would never pass.”

“Just like the bill you want to propose in the Council,” Ksar said amicably. “But politics can be so unpredictable. You never know.”

Her eyes narrowed. She gave him a long, assessing look.

“Perhaps,” she said at last. “Perhaps we should speak plainly to avoid confusion.”

Ksar smiled and leaned back in his chair. “If your adopted brother proposes the bill I mentioned in the Ministry’s next session, the Queen will support the bill you intend to propose in the next session of the Council.”

Her nostrils flared. Ksar didn’t need to read her mind to know that she was interested.

“Your mother the Queen is very influential,” Lady Zeyneb said slowly. “But even that won’t be enough for the bill to pass. There are too many telepathically null cowards in the Council.”

Ksar looked at her steadily. “Let me worry about it.”

She studied him. She did seem a bit skeptical, but she knew better than to question him. That would give her plausible deniability if he were caught. And she wanted the bill to pass too much. It was hardly a secret. Lady Zeyneb had been pushing for the amendment to the Bonding Law for years. Her motives were transparent: she was acting on behalf of her son, who was bonded to the former heir to the Fifth Grand Clan. The match had been perfectly eligible, except her son’s bondmate had disappeared decades ago, presumably kidnapped by renegades. However, nothing was confirmed. Although the lost prince’s identification chip was deactivated, the bond to Lady Zeyneb’s son remained, suggesting that the lost prince was alive…somewhere. In any case, Lady Zeyneb’s son needed to get rid of the bond if he was to marry the King of Planet Zicur, whom he had met at the off-planet school he had studied at and who had been courting him for years, which was the source of endless gossip in the society. If the King of Zicur weren’t such an eligible bachelor, the situation would have been far more scandalous, since technically Lady Zeyneb’s son was bonded. It was no wonder Lady Zeyneb wanted to break her son’s bond to the absent prince and marry him off to his prestigious suitor. Ksar would do the same.

So he waited patiently for her to accept his conditions. She would not refuse.

At last, Lady Zeyneb nodded and stood. “Very well. I will contact my brother. I’m looking forward to hearing good news from you.”

“You will,” Ksar said, getting to his feet out of politeness.

She smiled at him and left.

As the door slid shut after her, Ksar sat down. Closing his eyes, he reached with his mind toward the woman’s. Since she was alone now and supposedly safe of any telepathic prying, her mental shields were down and her mind was an open book.

He seems too interested in repealing the 156th law. That’s a weakness I can exploit. Perhaps I should demand more things from Ksar in exchange for my brother’s support. Hmm.

If Ksar had any lingering doubts—not that he had any—over what he was about to do, they would have been gone now.

Carefully, he planted a thought deep in her mind. Nothing radical. Nothing she would notice or consider uncharacteristic for her. It was simply a suggestion that she should do as Ksar wanted for the time being and that she could always turn the situation against Ksar at some point in the future—a very remote future.

She didn’t notice anything.

But then again, why would she when everyone knew it was impossible to plant thoughts without eye contact?

Ksar smiled.

Infinite power corrupts, a voice said scathingly in the back of his mind. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Seyn’s.

Ksar frowned and checked his mental shields, but they were impenetrable as always. He had imagined it.

Or perhaps it was the voice of the conscience he’d thought he no longer had.

Pressing his lips together, Ksar discarded the thought. He had no time for this. He had a busy day ahead of him. More people in need of persuading. 

Persuading was a good word. It could mean a number of things. 

Ksar drummed his fingers on the armrest.

But first, he had a special meeting before he could return to the political negotiations.

“Borg’gorn, is Lady Leylen’shni’gul here already?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Ksar schooled his face into an amicable expression as the door whooshed open again, admitting Harht’s bondmate.

Ksar studied her. She was pleasant to look at, pleasant in manner and appearance. Harht was lucky. She was definitely less of a bother than Seyn.

A flash of irritation at the thought of Seyn made it more difficult to put on a smile for the girl.

“Lady Leylen’shni’gul,” he said. “Please, take a seat.”

Blushing slightly, she did. “Your Highness. Is there a reason you requested my presence?”

“There is,” Ksar said, dropping his gaze. For a moment, he considered simply forcing her to do his bidding, but he dismissed the idea. It would be too risky. A skilled mind adept could discover that she was being influenced—and if everything went as he planned, a skilled mind adept was going to examine her mind for a very specific reason.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time, so I’ll speak candidly,” Ksar said, softening his voice. “In a few months, an amendment to the Bonding Law will be passed. From then on, anyone who has reached the age of majority would be able to request the dissolution of their bond. You reach the age of majority in three months.”

She stared at him. He could practically see her mind working. She wasn’t a stupid girl. “You want me to request the dissolution of my bond to your brother?” she said slowly. “Why would I do that? I’m perfectly content with my bond.”

Of course she was. While she was of noble blood, and her family owned one of the biggest deposits of korviu, the invaluable chemical element necessary for the use of transgalactic teleporters, her family’s social standing wasn’t very high. A prince was a catch for her. She would never willingly dissolve the bond to Harht.

Not for the first time, Ksar wished he could simply break Harht’s bond to the girl himself—he was more than capable of it—but it wouldn’t solve Harht’s problem. It wouldn’t make him free in the eyes of the law.

Ksar also wished he could simply wait until Harht reached the age of majority and could request the dissolution of the bond himself, but after seeing the state of his brother’s mind, he didn’t think Harht had that much time. Of course Ksar could have pushed for a complete repeal of the Bonding Law, but the Council would never vote for it, and it would be highly suspicious if everyone suddenly changed their mind.

So negotiating with Leylen’shni’gul was the only option. Luckily, Ksar knew something she would be more than willing to break her bond for. 

Ksar met the girl’s eyes. “And what if I offered myself in my brother’s place?”

Her eyes widened. She blushed. “I... I’m afraid I don’t understand, Your Highness. I thought you were bonded to Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli.”

Suppressing another surge of annoyance, Ksar forced a pleasant look on his face. “Soon, I won’t be.”

She smiled.

When the door closed behind her, Ksar sagged back in his seat, staring blankly at the wall.

It was a perfect solution for everyone involved. Harry would be free and could eventually reunite with his human after the pre-TNIT law was repealed, Seyn would get what he wanted—freedom from him—and Ksar…He would just exchange one unwanted bondmate for another, significantly less annoying one. And he had far less qualms about manipulating Leylen’s mind than he had about manipulating Seyn’s.

It really was a perfect solution. 

It was. 

The knot of unease in his stomach was irrational, so largely irrelevant.

“Borg’gorn, tell Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli to come here at his earliest convenience.”