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?
Chapter 20
Calluvian Society Gossip
Intergalactic Union Date: 18768.209
It has been just three days since Crown Prince Ksar’ngh’chaali and Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli had their bonds dissolved, but there are more curious rumors floating around.
It appears our Lord Chancellor left the planet immediately after his bond’s breaking, taking his younger brother with him. Prince Harht, who is rumored to be mysteriously ill, had his own bond to his childhood betrothed, Lady Leylen’shni’gul, broken just a day prior to his brother’s. It is rumored that Prince Ksar took his ill brother to the pre-TNIT planet Prince Harht visited last year, Sol III [native name: Earth]. What could be the reason?