Chapter 20

 

 

“Pardon?” the High Adept said.

Seyn dragged his eyes from Ksar’s inscrutable face and looked back at the High Adept. “I would like to have a word with my bondmate in private,” Seyn said. “It won’t take long.”

A tiny wrinkle appeared between the High Adept’s brows, but he nodded and left the room with an unimpressed air about him. Seyn scowled at his back, realizing the monk likely thought that Seyn had asked for the delay so that he could beg Ksar not to break their bond.

“What is it?” Ksar said, his gaze sharp as his silver-gray eyes scanned the walls.

Seyn inhaled deeply, and for the first time, tried to initiate telepathic communication with Ksar. Without the bond, it should have been impossible, but he was a high-level telepath, so he gave it a try. If Ksar could get into his mind and communicate, there was no reason he couldn’t do the same.

Reaching Ksar’s mind wasn’t a problem; the ugly impenetrable barrier blocking the way was. Seyn touched it tentatively, his stomach in knots. He suddenly felt fourteen all over again, bracing himself for rejection.

But the barrier gave in, letting him inside, not deep, but deep enough for communication.

“Do you think it’s safe to talk aloud?” he asked, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. Ksar’s mind felt disconcertingly familiar. Too familiar.

It took him a moment to realize why. He’d been doing his best not to think about the illicit telepathic merge he’d begged for the last time they’d had sex. But it was hard to pretend it had never happened now that even the shallow touch of their minds made him shiver with eagerness for more.

Fuck, this had been a terrible idea.

“I can’t sense anyone else nearby, but communicating telepathically is probably safer,” Ksar replied, walking to him. “What do you want?” he said aloud, stopping in front of Seyn. He was so close Seyn could smell the earthy, masculine scent of his aftershave. Ksar’s cravat was a little loose.

Seyn moistened his lips with his tongue, his heart beating so fast and hard he felt a little dizzy. “Are you sure we should do this?” he said aloud in case anyone was eavesdropping. “Are you sure you can handle the High Adept? Are you stronger than him?”

Ksar’s expression changed a little. “I don’t know,” he said, his gaze intent on Seyn. “There are whispers among the Council that he achieved his high rank using some very dubious methods. Not to mention that the old High Adept’s death certainly raised a few eyebrows. He had been in perfect health, so his sudden death was rather suspicious, even though there was no proof that his successor had anything to do with it.”

Seyn found himself taking an involuntary step closer, his eyes locked with Ksar’s. “Yeah? So you think he’s a high-level telepath?”

“It seems likely,” Ksar replied, watching him intently. “You want to suggest something?”

Seyn looked away before returning his gaze to Ksar.“You bonded Harry to Leylen without any trouble. Maybe you should…it would make sense for you to bond us now to avoid suspicion.” He bit the inside of his cheek, his stomach clenching as he waited for Ksar’s reaction. He hated how insecure he felt. It wasn’t as though he was offering something outrageous. It was a perfectly logical thing to do to ensure that everything went smoothly. Sure, he would be tied by the bond again, but it would be for a very short time until the High Adept broke it officially. It wasn’t as though he wanted to be bonded to Ksar again.

“No,” Ksar said.

Seyn’s insecurity shifted into annoyance. “Why not? It’s perfectly reasonable!”

“We can’t risk establishing a deep telepathic connection like the bond.”

Seyn lifted his chin stubbornly. “Enlighten me why not.”

Ksar glared at him. “Merging minds is dangerous, you little idiot. It can create something akin to addiction.”

Flushing, Seyn glared back. “I assure you I’m not addicted to your vile mind.”

Ksar stepped even closer, looking at Seyn with intensity that had Seyn’s cheeks burning and toes curling. “Are you absolutely sure that’s not why you want me deeper in you right now?”

Seyn’s hands curled into fists. He hissed aloud, “You arrogant ass—”

The door opened, and the High Adept walked back into the room.

Seyn stepped away from Ksar, his hands still trembling with rage.

“My apologies for the interruption, Your Highnesses, but I have other duties waiting for me, so I cannot delay your appointment any longer,” the High Adept said neutrally. If he had heard them arguing, he gave no sign of it, his face an emotionless mask.

“That’s quite all right,” Ksar said. “Let’s proceed. I have other matters that require my attention, as well.”

The High Adept inclined his head slightly and walked to the ceremonial rug in the middle of the room. “Please kneel beside me and lower your mental shields.”

Seyn hesitated, but did as he was told. He lowered his shields—after carefully tucking away all the compromising thoughts and memories he had no wish to share. He also dialed down his powers to the best of his ability, trying to pass for the Class 2 telepath he was supposed to be.

Still pissed off, he pointedly didn’t look at Ksar, who sat down across from him.

When the High Adept laid his hands over their napes, his thumb pressing against the point just below Seyn’s ear—his telepathic center—Seyn braced himself.

He could feel the pressure of a foreign mind pushing into his and had to curb the instinct to throw it out. The High Adept’s mind felt invasive, forceful, and alien—wrong. It was strong, too strong, overwhelming and disorientating. It felt like the worst kind of violation, and Seyn fought back the wave of nausea. Ksar’s mind had never felt like this. Did that mean the High Adept was a stronger telepath than Ksar?

He didn’t know what Ksar’s plan was, but it sure as hell wasn’t working, because Seyn could feel the moment the mind adept discovered that there was no bond in his mind. The emotionless, cold pressure on his mind changed to suspicion, then anger, then suspicion again—before the invasive presence suddenly disappeared from his mind.

Gasping for breath, Seyn snapped his eyes open. Trying to ignore the splitting headache and nausea, he focused his gaze with some difficulty on what was happening in the room.

The High Adept was kneeling now too, as if his knees had given out. He was shaking faintly, his face deathly pale. His once emotionless eyes were wide with shock and something like horror as he struggled for breath, staring at Ksar.

Ksar, who had a look of intense concentration on his face, a bead of sweat running down his forehead.

Seyn’s skin prickled with goosebumps. He could literally feel the power pulsing in the room, one mind trying to subdue the other. He could feel that the High Adept was putting up one hell of a fight, his training in mind arts clearly superior to that of Ksar. But it still wasn’t enough. Although Ksar had told Seyn that raw power wasn’t everything, it obviously was in that particular case. Seyn could feel the force of Ksar’s telepathy crushing the other man’s, over and over, one blow after another.

At last, the High Adept whimpered, blood trickling out of his nose as he fainted, slumping to the floor.

Ksar exhaled, his face losing the look of concentration, but his shoulders remained tense as he regarded the unconscious monk with a grim expression in his eyes.

“What did you do?” Seyn whispered, glancing at the door, afraid of someone walking in. If they had been observed, they were screwed.

And then he almost laughed. What was wrong with him? He was afraid of the wrong thing here. If Ksar could reduce even the best mind adept on the planet to a heap on the floor, then he could easily fuck with Seyn’s mind ten times over and make him believe anything he wanted. It should have scared him. It didn’t. He felt a lot of things around Ksar, but fear wasn’t one of them, had never been.

Maybe he was an idiot.

Ksar shifted his eyes to him. “Your nose is bleeding,” he said in a clipped voice. “Did he hurt you?” 

Seyn touched his own nose and wiped the few drops of blood he found. “What happened?”

 “I dismantled his defenses while he was distracted, but he was stronger than I expected. He’s at least Class 6.” Ksar got to his feet and, taking Seyn’s wrist, hauled him up. “Does your head hurt?” he said, without looking at him.

Seyn stared at him. “Does it matter to you?”

A muscle flexed in Ksar’s jaw. “I wouldn’t waste my time asking about something that didn’t matter. He’s a high-level telepath. A prolonged telepathic contact with one is always dangerous.”

“You’re a high-level telepath, too,” Seyn murmured, watching Ksar curiously. “I’ve survived having you in me multiple times just fine.” Immediately, Seyn regretted his choice of words. Ugh. “He got pretty deep, but I’ve had you much deeper.” Seyn flushed, mortified by the stuff coming out of his mouth. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he keep reminding Ksar of what they’d shared?

Thankfully, Ksar’s still wasn’t looking at him, so he didn’t see his blush. His gaze was averted, his face hard as stone. Only his grip on Seyn’s wrist tightened. “That was different,” he said. “He isn’t me.”

Before Seyn could process what that was supposed to mean, Ksar released Seyn’s wrist and walked over to the unconscious man. He pressed his hand below the High Adept’s ear and closed his eyes for a moment.

Stroking his own wrist, Seyn stared at Ksar’s profile, his eyes trailing over Ksar’s strong jaw and the firm, arrogant curve of his lips. 

He dragged his gaze away.

“Act a little disoriented and overwhelmed,” Ksar said, straightening up. “Like you just had your bond broken.”

Before Seyn could say anything, the High Adept opened his eyes and sat up, frowning.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Ksar said, sounding embarrassed, of all things. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

The High Adept’s face cleared up, as if Ksar’s words made total sense. “I understand. I have been told the sudden lack of the bond can be disorienting.” A wrinkle suddenly appeared between his brows. He looked between them sharply as he got to his feet.

Seyn’s stomach dropped. Did he suspect something, after all?

The High Adept looked at Ksar. “As you are a Lord Chancellor of the MIA, I’m sure I do not need to remind you to retake the Standard Telepathic Test within the next two days, Your Highness.”

Ksar nodded. “And I’ll make sure that Seyn’ngh’veighli does the same.”

The monk looked at Seyn. “Are you well, Your Highness? You look pale.” 

Seyn winced. “Just a little overwhelmed. Everything feels…so much more.” 

He must have sounded pretty convincing, because the High Adept actually seemed sympathetic. “It was to be expected,” he said. “But if you experience any difficulty handling your heightened senses, you are welcome to return to the High Hronthar. I will make time for you.”

“I’m sure it won’t be necessary,” Ksar said flatly. “Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Seyn followed Ksar out of the room. He felt the High Adept’s unnerving gaze on his back until the door closed behind them.

“I think he suspects something,” Seyn whispered.

Ksar didn’t say anything.

“Did you hear me?” Seyn said.

“Yes,” Ksar said, looking straight ahead.

“And?” Seyn went silent, waiting until the few monks heading the opposite way passed them. “Aren’t you worried?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ksar said. He still wasn’t looking at him.

Seyn glowered at him, starting to get really pissed off. Nothing pissed him off as much as Ksar’s ignoring him and making him feel like he didn’t matter.

“Why not?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He won’t dare do anything against me,” Ksar said. “Even if he is suspecting something, I just got enough dirt on him to make him very agreeable.”

“You watched his private memories?” Seyn wasn’t sure what it said about him that the emotion he was feeling was exasperation, not outrage or disgust.

“Of course I did,” Ksar said, shrugging slightly. “I could hardly miss the opportunity to get leverage against one of the most powerful individuals on the planet. I’m a politician.”

“You’re a terrible person,” Seyn said without much heat. 

“Yes.”

Seyn chuckled despite himself and turned his head away so that Ksar couldn’t see his smile.

He could feel Ksar’s eyes on the side of his face. It figured; of course the asshole would look at him now that Seyn didn’t want to be looked at. 

“You’re underestimating him, you know,” Seyn said, running a hand through his hair. “He’s…extremely powerful. I’ve never felt anything like that. He’s very, very strong.”

A flare of annoyance that came off Ksar took Seyn by surprise. Ksar usually had an incredible control over his mental shields, rarely allowing his emotions to be felt—unless Seyn was touching him—so his sudden lapse of control was very surprising.

“I overpowered him easily enough,” Ksar said evenly.

“Only because you took him off-guard! He’s dangerous.”

“No more than me.”

Seyn blinked. He cocked his head to the side, eyeing Ksar’s stony expression. Was Ksar actually annoyed that Seyn considered him inferior to the High Adept?

“I don’t know,” Seyn said casually. “He felt a lot stronger than you when he was in me.”

Ksar’s jaw clenched.

Seyn suppressed a grin, utterly delighted. He couldn’t believe Ksar was really getting worked up over something so ridiculous. Like, he knew Ksar strove for perfection in all that he did, but surely he wasn’t such a control freak that he wanted to be the very best at everything? It was unrealistic. It was utterly insane.

“He felt stronger only because he didn’t know how to handle you,” Ksar said in a clipped voice. “Brute force is the easiest route when the mind is unfamiliar. The lack of finesse is hardly something that should be praised.”

Seyn almost laughed.

“I wouldn’t say he lacked finesse,” he said with a shrug. “He was just very, very strong.”

Ksar’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Seyn looked at him blankly.

Jealous? As in jealous over him?

The mere idea of Ksar being jealous over him was…utterly ridiculous. He’d spent years flirting outrageously with every semi-attractive person, and Ksar hadn’t even batted an eye. Sure, he’d gotten angry with him for acting “unbecomingly,” but he’d never been jealous. Ksar didn’t get jealous over him.

Could he be jealous now? Just because another man had entered Seyn’s mind? Un-fucking-likely.

“Of course not,” Seyn said, looking away from Ksar with a crooked smile that felt wooden. “I’m not delusional.” 

Ksar didn’t say anything as he followed Seyn into the t-chamber.

Seyn pursed his lips as something occurred to him. “You said he wouldn’t do anything against you. What about me? I don’t have dirt on him.”

“Just keep away from him,” Ksar said. “If it’s not possible, keep your shields up when you’re around him. You’re strong enough to hold him off for a while—long enough to contact me. I will deal with him if he bothers you.”

Seyn’s eyes snapped to him. He frowned in bewilderment. Had he heard that right? Why would Ksar protect him?

“Why?” he said, trying to ignore the stupidly warm feeling in his stomach. Ugh. What was wrong with him? He didn’t need to be protected. He could take care of himself.

Ksar’s eyes were unreadable. “Just let me know if he approaches you. You have no idea what that man is capable of.”

That’s not an answer, Seyn almost said, but then he thought better of it.

Why did he care? Ksar and he were done. They were going separate ways, nothing binding them together anymore. He was supposed to stop giving a damn about why Ksar did or didn’t do something. It wasn’t supposed to matter. Ksar didn’t matter. The sooner he stopped caring about every little thing in Ksar’s behavior, the sooner his…obsession with this man would go away. It had to. Because it was just an obsession. Nothing more. He was entirely capable of not giving a damn about Ksar.

He was.

Let it go. His mother’s voice sounded in his mind.  He’s nothing to you anymore. Let it go, darling.

Locking his jaw, Seyn fixed his gaze on the wall. He hated this, hated that he felt…fragile, stretched thin at the edges. He wanted to go home before he could say or do something stupid.

“Are we moving or not?” he said tightly. “I’m sure you have more important matters that require your attention. Drop me off at home first.”

In his peripheral vision he could see Ksar press his hand against the console. The t-chamber’s doors closed. 

But then…nothing. Ksar didn’t tell the computer their destination. He let go of the console and stepped closer, his silver eyes roaming all over Seyn’s face.

Seyn licked his lips, his heart thundering somewhere in his throat.

Ksar put his hand on the wall beside Seyn’s head and leaned in, his breath brushing against the sensitive spot under Seyn’s earlobe. “Do you know how to pass for a low-level telepath on the STT?”

Seyn swallowed. It was a completely reasonable question. He knew that. But was it really necessary for Ksar to be so close to him? Was it really necessary to whisper the question into his ear? Or was it just a reasonable precaution? Unlike the ancient monastery, the t-chamber could be monitored. Most modern means of transport were.

“I’m not sure,” Seyn managed.

He felt rather than heard Ksar sigh. “Fine. Then listen carefully. I will not repeat myself.”

Seyn nodded.

Ksar started talking, giving his instructions in a very low voice. The instructions were weirdly long-winded, and Seyn had trouble keeping up. It was hard to focus on Ksar’s words when the proximity of him, his voice, and his subtle, masculine scent were quickly overwhelming his senses. Seyn felt like a bundle of nerves ready to go off at any moment, breathing shallowly and staring dazedly at the opposite wall of the t-chamber.

“...think of your telepathic core as a light beacon. You need to learn to dim it at will so that a test program doesn’t...” Ksar’s lips brushed against Seyn’s earlobe and Seyn shivered violently, a whine rising in his throat that he managed to stifle.

“...do you now understand how to do it?”

Seyn blinked a few times. He had no idea what Ksar was talking about.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Go on.”

Ksar continued. He talked and talked, his voice unbearably low and intimate. They were so close. Close enough that their chests and stomachs brushed. Ksar’s cheek was warm against Seyn’s, his stubble rough but in a way that wasn’t unpleasant at all. He smelled so good that Seyn found himself breathing deeper and deeper, his eyes slipping shut involuntarily. He forced them open when he realized that he was behaving like a crazy person, like an addict greedily getting his fix before it was taken away.

“You suck at giving instructions,” Seyn said hoarsely, hating how unsteady his voice sounded, hating how badly he wanted to pull Ksar closer and have Ksar’s mouth on his. Just one more kiss. Just one.

Heavens, this was pathetic. He was pathetic.

Furious, with himself more than with Ksar, Seyn jerked away and slammed his hand on the console. “The Third Royal Palace, second entrance.”

The t-chamber started moving.

“Thanks, I think I can figure it out,” Seyn said tightly, trying to hide his anger, frustration—and worst of all, formless what-ifs and a hollow sense of longing. Longing he had no business feeling.

The t-chamber opened to the familiar hall of the palace.

Seyn got out.

He came to a halt, his back to Ksar, resisting the urge to run away and hide. He was a scion of the Third Royal House. He was above such immature behavior. He would be damned if he let Ksar see how much this affected him.

With as much dignity as he could muster, Seyn turned around and gave Ksar a shallow, perfectly polite, and perfectly impersonal bow. “Your Highness.”

As he straightened up, their eyes met, silver locking with green.

Seyn felt a lump lodge in his throat. They weren’t bondmates anymore. They had never been real bondmates, but they had been betrothed for all of Seyn’s life. His birthday was two months earlier than it should have been because of Ksar. He’d grown up with the knowledge that this man was his, for better or for worse. He had always been Prince Seyn, the betrothed of Crown Prince Ksar’ngh’chaali. 

Did he know how to be just Prince Seyn? 

Seyn swallowed hard and the lump lodged in his throat eased, but the hard knot in his chest remained.

He stared at Ksar, feeling utterly lost.

Something flickered in Ksar’s eyes. His throat moved, his jaw tightening infinitesimally.

Ksar opened his mouth, and said, “The Second Royal Palace, the left wing.”

Seyn had never felt such disappointment in his life.

He didn’t watch the t-chamber’s doors close.

He turned away and headed for his room.

Once there, he stopped in front of the shiny new table that replaced the one he’d broken. He stared at it unseeingly, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu.

But this time he didn’t feel like breaking things.

He wanted to get in his bed, curl up with his pillow, and sleep until he stopped feeling so…hollow. Empty. Wrong.

“This is ridiculous,” he whispered. “You hate him. This is what you’ve always wanted. You’re supposed to be happy, you idiot!”

Seyn threw himself on the bed and buried his face in his pillow, groaning as hot, angry tears stung his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he happy? He hated Ksar. He loathed him. He hated everything about him.

A small, unwelcome thought squirmed its way into his mind,

Do you?