At the time, Ksar had thought they were right. He could feel the child’s chaotic, mindless emotions, its need for comfort and safety. Since a child that young couldn’t communicate and had next to no telepathic abilities, it was impossible to determine that the bond had taken on Seyn’s end—or rather, on Ksar’s. Ksar had realized that something was off only months later when it became obvious that the infant couldn’t feel him at all—that and the fact that Ksar’s telepathic abilities had…changed.
The truth of the matter was that their bond was one-way: Seyn might be bonded to him, but he wasn’t bonded to Seyn. Not that Ksar had any intention to enlighten his supposed bondmate about the fact. If Seyn was under the impression that Ksar was blocking him out of his mind on purpose, so be it.
Being thought of as a neglectful bondmate was better than the alternative.
“I thought we agreed that the less we interacted through our bond, the better,” Ksar said.
Seyn made a mock thoughtful face. “Funny that I don’t remember that conversation. Actually, I don’t remember us ever having an adult conversation that didn’t involve you criticizing me for every imaginary sin.”
“For us to have an adult conversation both of us actually have to be adults,” Ksar said, returning his gaze to the reports once again.
“I’m twenty-three,” Seyn gritted out. “I’m considered an adult on most other planets of the Union.”
There were several responses Ksar could think of, but he kept them to himself. All of them would have just escalated their argument. He had more important things to do than to have another pointless, aggravating argument with Seyn, no matter how tempting it was. It was far more tempting than it should have been. He didn’t have the excuse of not being an adult.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, asshole,” Seyn hissed, his anger flaring through the bond.
Sometimes Ksar wondered what it would have been like to have a fully functional bond with Seyn—how much more distracting it would have been—and it was a good thing he would never know. Having a one-way access to Seyn’s emotions was distracting enough already.
The most aggravating part was, he had never been entirely successful at blocking Seyn’s emotions. No matter how strong his telepathic abilities were, Ksar could always feel a foreign need at the back of his mind: need for companionship, need for attention, sometimes need for comfort. Seyn had been a very emotional and needy child, and that hadn’t changed much over the years: he was an extrovert, who needed people and people’s companionship and attention to feel happy. He was Ksar’s complete opposite in that regard, and receiving the secondhand emotions of some needy child had irritated the hell out of him when he was younger. Thankfully, Seyn had learned to protect his mind better and stopped giving off so much need after their first meeting, but it was still distracting.
More distracting than it should have been.
Sometimes Ksar was tempted to break their one-sided bond completely—he could do it easily enough—but it would be foolish to do it when the consequences were unpredictable at best. Seyn might not feel him on the other end of the bond, but he would definitely notice the sudden disappearance of the bond.
After all, connecting people’s minds wasn’t the primary function of the bond.
“Stop ignoring me!” Seyn said again, and even without looking at him, Ksar knew his green eyes were blazing with fury, his pale cheeks flushed, his pink lips folded into a fierce scowl. He was the only person of Ksar’s acquaintance who managed to become more attractive the angrier he got.
Ksar slid lower in his seat, irritated with himself. “Leave,” he said curtly, his eyes on his work. “I have no time for you.”
“You—” Seyn fumed for a few moments in silence before storming out of the room.
As soon as the door shut after him, Ksar sighed.
This was unacceptable.
Chapter 3
Once upon a time, thousands of years ago, there was a queen of the Third Grand Clan called Rosxyn, and she was so extraordinarily beautiful, intelligent, and kind that she had suitors from all over the galaxy. But Queen Rosxyn kept rejecting all her suitors, declaring that she wanted to dedicate her life to ruling her clan.
Not all of her suitors accepted her rejection easily. One of them, Marvik of Clan Shieksu of the First Grand Clan, was so mindless with infatuation and rage that he kidnapped Queen Rosxyn and forced an archaic marriage bond on her, the type that was impossible to dissolve.
The fallout was unimaginable. Despite countless attempts to break the bond, the assaulter remained bonded to the Queen. In the end, unwilling to compromise her clan, Queen Rosxyn abdicated in favor of her brother.
But the story didn’t end there. When the First Royal House refused to be held responsible for Marvik’s harmful actions against the Third Royal House, the political scandal turned into a military conflict, eventually involving all of the grand clans in the greatest planet-wide war in the Calluvian history, a war that nearly wiped out the entire population.