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.