“I thought the drug would have been out of your system by now,” Rohan said, keeping his expression neutral. There were always eyes on them, and he couldn’t afford to look concerned.
Warrehn shrugged.
This time Rohan struggled to keep his expression blank. It was very unlike Warrehn to be so noncommittal and careless about a situation he hated.
Disconcerted, Rohan followed Warrehn’s gaze to Prince Samir.
The prince certainly was beautiful. He was almost as gorgeous as Jamil, and that was the highest praise a man could receive for his looks—or a woman, for that matter. Objectively, Rohan could see the appeal, but it was very unlike Warrehn to let his cock do the thinking. Warrehn hated Dalatteya. Utterly loathed her. Rohan had thought that would be enough to make Dalatteya’s son as loathsome in Warrehn’s eyes.
Perhaps he had thought wrong.
“If you don’t quit looking at him like you want to eat him, people will notice,” Rohan said.
Warrehn flinched and looked away, scowling. That expression was much more familiar, but it failed to ease Rohan’s concern, considering that Warrehn’s gaze almost immediately returned to Samir, as if… as if he couldn’t help himself.
Fucking hell.
Now he was more than just concerned. He was very much alarmed.
“I’m simply observing him,” Warrehn said, his voice as stiff as his posture. “He’s acting odd.”
Rohan decided to humor him. “In what way?”
“He’s been off for a few days. He spaces out often, and when he realizes that I’ve noticed, his telepathic presence gives off guilt and misery.”
“That’s it?” Rohan said.
Warrehn looked back at Samir, loosening his cravat. “No,” he said in a clipped voice. “When he isn’t distant, he’s been kind of—needy.”
“In what way?”
Warrehn didn’t answer for a while. At last, he said, without looking at Rohan, “He wants to be held. He spends every night in my bed and gets awfully clingy in the morning, not letting me leave. I had to cancel multiple morning meetings lately.”
Rohan eyed his friend curiously. “Had to? You don’t have to indulge him, you know.”
A muscle twitched in Warrehn’s jaw. “You don’t understand,” he said. “The drug is—it’s impossible to resist. It’s…” He trailed off, his shoulders tensing and his expression darkening.
Rohan followed his gaze.
Prince Samir was speaking to his mother. Although both of them had polite smiles on their faces, even Rohan could tell that something about the interaction was off. They seemed to be arguing, with Dalatteya speaking fast, and Samir’s body language getting defensive.
Rohan turned to Warrehn, but his friend was already moving toward the pair.
Curious, Rohan followed him. He hadn’t really seen Warrehn interact with Dalatteya and her son since the drug debacle had started. He hoped Warrehn wasn’t about to make a scene.
He struggled to catch up to Warrehn: he didn’t have Warrehn’s ridiculous shoulders to push his way through the crowd, nor his unfriendly scowl to deter people from speaking to him. When he finally caught up to his friend, Warrehn had already reached Dalatteya and her son.
“Is something wrong?” Warrehn said.
Rohan couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he could see Samir’s and Dalatteya’s. The woman stiffened, her expression becoming more closed off. Samir’s body language was a study in contradictions: the tension in his shoulders eased and his body swayed toward Warrehn at first, before he glanced at his mother and seemed to become more anxious.
“Everything is absolutely fine,” Dalatteya said with a beautiful smile. “I was just discussing with Samir how wonderful it is that you’re back to your normal selves. I’m sure you were delighted when Samir informed you of that days ago. Weren’t you? Your Majesty.”
Warrehn’s body became absolutely rigid. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his head turning to Samir, who flushed, projecting misery and anxiety.
“What is she talking about?” Warrehn said, his voice flat but full of tension. “Samir.”
Rohan cocked his head to the side, curious. It was extremely unlikely that Warrehn somehow hadn’t understood what Dalatteya had said. Knowing his friend, Rohan had expected him to explode at Dalatteya’s words, not to be patient enough to ask Prince Samir for clarification. Judging by the frown on Dalatteya’s face, she had expected the same. Warrehn’s composure, no matter how feigned it was, was really surprising. Warrehn hated being lied to. The fact that Prince Samir hadn’t told him that the alien substance was out of their systems should have made him angry enough to lose his composure in public—which was probably Dalatteya’s aim, come to think of it.
Prince Samir stepped closer to Warrehn and made an aborted move, as if he intended to touch his hand. “I can explain,” he said, looking Warrehn in the eyes beseechingly. “Please let me explain.”
Warrehn’s throat bobbed, his telepathic presence exuding anger, disbelief, and confusion. He looked like he’d been hit with a truck, as if he had hoped Samir would say that Dalatteya was lying.