Ksar gave him a flat look. “The ruling members of the grand clans aren’t the only people in the Council. Need I remind you that the royal houses have only twenty-four votes and the rest of the votes belong to elected members, most of whom are telepathically null?”
Right.
“And you think they’d use me to further their agenda?” Harry said.
“I don’t think it,” Ksar said. “I know they will. You already used your telepathy against humans. A case like this is the perfect excuse they’ve been looking for. That’s why you can’t remain unbonded, Harht.”
Harry’s heart sank. If what Ksar was saying was true, he had no choice. He would never forgive himself if his mother lost the throne because of him.
“The t-nulls should have pushed for the repeal of the Bonding Law instead,” Seyn grumbled. “One would think it’s in their best interests. Instead of being constantly bitter that they have next to no telepathy, why don’t they do something about it?”
Harry shook his head. “Because there’s no guarantee that repealing the Bonding Law would make things better for them. They must be scared that telepaths would become even more powerful if their bonds were removed.”
“Yes,” Ksar said. “Some believe that without the bond people who are now telepathically null would become just Class 1 telepaths, but the telepaths would become…something far worse.”
Harry winced. In a way, he could understand why the telepathically null Calluvians were scared. High-level telepaths could supposedly completely erase and replace a person’s memory. They could make you believe your mother was a stranger. They could make you believe anything they wanted. No mental shields would protect you from them. They could damage or block areas of your brain, rendering you paralyzed or deaf. They could make you think you were being tortured. Class 7 telepaths could supposedly kill with their minds, shutting down your vital organs with as little as a thought.
It was understandable why the telepathically null members of the Council would be uncomfortable with the prospect of having such powerful telepaths in their midst. And Harry doubted that even the telepaths in the Council would support the repeal of the Bonding Law. Some of them would likely be tempted by the prospect of unlimited power, but if they repealed the law and broke all the bonds, where was the guarantee that they would be the powerful ones? Repealing the law might completely overhaul the social hierarchy, which obviously wasn’t in the Council’s best interests. People in power never wanted change unless it benefited them. The Bonding Law would never be repealed. And Harry would be considered a threat if the Council found out about his lack of bond.
Harry slumped back against the couch. “What options do I have? Besides going back and restoring my bond to Leylen’shni’gul?”
The look his brother gave him was almost sympathetic. “None.”
“Bullshit,” Seyn said.
Harry turned his head. “What?”
Seyn’s gaze was fixed on Ksar. “You aren’t bonded to me, are you?”
Harry frowned. What was Seyn talking about?
He looked at Ksar and found his expression carefully blank.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ksar said evenly.
Seyn laughed. “Do you think I’m stupid? When you described Leylen’shni’gul’s symptoms, they sounded very familiar to me. I don’t feel you on the bond’s other end, and my bond is weak and faulty.” He cocked his head to the side. “So, how high-level are you? Class 4? Class 5? Worse? Or should I say better? I guess now we know why you’re such a high-handed ass.”
A muscle started pulsing in Ksar’s jaw.
Yet he didn’t deny anything.
Harry stared at his brother. “Ksar? Is that true?”
Ksar swept a calculating gaze from Harry and Seyn.
“Don’t even think of erasing our memories,” Seyn said, tensing. “My mental shields are too intricate and personalized for you to rebuild them perfectly. I’ll know they’ve been messed with and I’ll go to mind adepts. You wouldn’t want them to find out what you did—or the state of my bond, for that matter.”
Ksar’s lips thinned, proving that he really had been considering erasing their memories. Harry couldn’t believe him.
Seyn smiled humorlessly. “So you can go without a bond, but Harry can’t, huh? Fucking hypocrite.”
“It’s different,” Ksar said.
Seyn raised his eyebrows. “Enlighten us why it’s different.”
“Our bond never quite took,” Ksar said, his voice slower, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was because of our age difference or the fact that I was much older than the age children got bonded at. Perhaps the painful death of my first bondmate damaged my ability to form a new bond. Either way, our bond had been defective from the beginning. You could never feel me through the bond, so you didn’t know it wasn’t normal. Leylen’shni’gul’s bond to Harht had been perfectly functional, and she obviously can tell that something is wrong with the bond now. You could never tell the difference.”