“What about Mehmer’s killer?” he said.
Rohan’s lips thinned. “I don’t know. She really didn’t know about it. I have… an idea about what might have happened, but I’ll have to confirm a few things first. It’ll take time.” He smoothed the line between Jamil’s brows with a thumb. “Don’t fixate on finding Mehmer’s murderer, okay? He’s dead. He doesn’t care if he’s avenged or not.”
Jamil glared at him half-heartedly. “Your flippant attitude toward Mehmer’s death is offensive, you know.”
Rohan had the nerve to shrug. “Avenging his death is the least of my worries, to be honest. Dead can’t be hurt.” He looked into Jamil’s eyes grimly, cradling his nape. “Promise me you’ll leave it alone. Don’t try to investigate it yourself.”
“I can’t just ignore the issue when my husband’s murderer is still out there, unpunished and—”
“Promise me,” Rohan said forcefully, something fierce and anxious in his eyes.
That made Jamil pause. He could feel Rohan’s concern, strong and gut-wrenching. Concern for him.
“If my suspicions are correct, the prince-consort’s death is only the tip of the iceberg,” Rohan said. “It’s not as simple as finding a single murderer, Jamil. Trust me. Stay away from that mess.”
His stomach in knots, Jamil could only nod.
“Thank you.” Rohan leaned in and kissed him on the cheek gently. “And thank you for your help,” he murmured, his arms slipping down Jamil’s shoulders to give him a brief but tight hug. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Jamil stared at the opposite wall and realized that this was a goodbye.
Rohan was leaving, and he was probably never coming back.
Jamil pressed his lips together, his throat suddenly tight.
He didn’t know why he felt like… like this. He’d known Rohan would leave as soon as he learned what he was there for. He’d known that. This was for the best. He was starting to become attached.
Starting?
Jamil almost laughed at himself. What was wrong with him, seriously? They weren’t even friends, not really. They certainly weren’t lovers, either. Rohan was… He was something else, his not-quite-friend, not-quite-lover, not-quite-bondmate, not-quite-servant.
Even if Rohan could stay, what would they be to each other? How long could it stay secret that Jamil was hopelessly addicted to having his manservant’s mind in him? That Jamil had something of a perverse bond with him? The scandal would be enormous. Even if he were willing to risk it, Rohan clearly had no intention of staying. He probably hadn’t even entertained the idea. While he did seem somewhat attached to Jamil, he was a heterosexual man. Rohan would never want such an intimate relationship with another man—not that Jamil wanted it, either. He didn’t. The mere idea was… ridiculous: they were from different social circles, different cultures, and different sexualities. They had no future together, in any capacity.
It was a good thing this was ending before it could become something disastrous. More disastrous than it already was.
“I have to go,” Rohan said roughly, his gaze searching as it roamed over Jamil’s face. His hands squeezed Jamil’s shoulders. “If there’s anything I can do for you before I go…”
Jamil opened his mouth to say that he didn’t need anything when an idea occurred to him. At first it seemed too insane to entertain, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it.
“Give me a baby.”
Rohan flinched.
“What?” he said, his eyes wide and his muscles visibly tense.
Jamil moistened his dry lips with his tongue. “The Queen… She’s pressuring me—” He cut himself off. No, that wasn’t right. “My people are worried that there’s no established line of succession. I need an heir. Mehmer—he didn’t leave his genetic material, so my mother says I need a donor to be the other biological father. But I…” He bit his bottom lip, averting his gaze before meeting Rohan’s again. “I don’t really like the thought of having the child of a total stranger.”
Rohan’s jaw worked. He shook his head slowly. “Jamil, I can’t just give my child to other people to raise as another man’s. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Jamil’s stomach dropped. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned his back to Rohan, not confident that his face wouldn’t betray his disappointment. “I wasn’t asking you to give a child to other people,” he said tonelessly. “I was asking you to give it to me.” He shrugged. “But I guess there isn’t much of a difference for you.”
Rohan swore and grabbed his shoulders. “Don’t say that,” he said harshly, his stubble scratching the skin of Jamil’s neck from behind. “You’re—fuck, you’re the most confusing thing that has ever happened to me—I have no idea what the fuck this is, but…” He sighed. “I want you to be happy,” he said hoarsely. “I want you to be safe and happy, I want to give you anything you want. Because you deserve it. But I really can’t do what you’re asking me to do. There are reasons—”