“I can’t do it, Mother,” he finally managed. “I won’t.”
The Queen’s expression was compassionate but unmoved. “I understand that the timing is unfortunate, but we have little choice, Jamil. It is our duty to continue the line of the House of Veighli. If the direct line ends, our grand clan will fall into civil unrest.”
Jamil would like to say that she was exaggerating, but there were plenty of examples of it. Calluvian royal houses had a long history of civil wars, betrayals and assassinations, even in modern times.
“You’re still young,” he said. “You and Mother can have another child yet. I will make them my heir.”
The Queen’s lips twitched. “I may not look it, but I’m sixty-seven, Jamil. I’m not of reproductive age, and I long ago stopped preserving my egg cells.”
Jamil deflated, his mind searching frantically for another solution.
Queen Janesh sighed. “Jamil, even if I could have another heir, I wouldn’t. Your other mother and I have raised three wonderful children, and we have no desire for more.” Her gaze softened. “I want you to have children, too. I know you will be a wonderful parent, and this is your only chance at parenthood, darling.”
Jamil’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. The worst part was, he knew she was right. He would die childless if he refused to do his duty. No matter how much his entire being rejected the idea of having some stranger’s child, he would never have any children at all if he refused to do what his mother was suggesting.
“I’m not going to force you,” the Queen said, looking at him with a sad, wistful expression on her beautiful face. “Being a parent is an enormous responsibility. But it’s also a great source of joy. I do believe it is the best solution. You know Mehmer would have approved. He wouldn’t want you to die childless and alone.”
Jamil almost laughed. For all of the Queen’s insistence that she wasn’t forcing him, she sure knew how to push the right buttons to get what she wanted. It was something he’d always admired about his mother—admired and hated.
“Fine,” he said, and he didn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ll trust you to find a sperm donor, then.”
His mother smiled, relief flickering across her face. “Of course. Let me handle it, darling. No one will know that the child isn’t Mehmer’s.”
Jamil cringed internally.
Heavens, the mere idea of having another man’s child felt so damn wrong. Jamil had always thought his children would be Mehmer’s, that they would look like his husband, not some stranger.
But he really didn’t have a choice. Their clan needed an heir. Everyone expected Jamil to provide them with the heir. People didn’t care that it had been just five months since the death of his husband and that having a child was the last thing on Jamil’s mind. Truth be told, he didn’t think he could be a very good parent in his current state of mind. He wouldn’t call himself depressed, but… He wasn’t fine. There were still days it was a struggle to get up in the morning and go about his duties as if nothing happened. Sometimes he forgot and reached to the back of his mind, to the remnants of his marriage bond—before remembering that his best friend was gone.
But it didn’t matter, did it? If he turned out to be a failure of a parent, it wasn’t as though there weren’t hundreds of servants in the palace that could look after his child. Not to mention that Jamil’s mothers would dote on their first grandchild, so his kid wouldn’t grow unloved.
And maybe, just maybe, a child would give him a new reason to get up in the mornings. A purpose. Jamil wasn’t sure it would work, especially since the child wouldn’t be Mehmer’s, but he loved children. Surely he would love his own flesh and blood? Anything would be better than this empty life that consisted of nothing but duties and responsibilities.
In any case, it wasn’t a matter of want; it was a matter of need. He really needed an heir.
“Well, then,” his mother said, standing up. “I’ll inform you when I find a good donor.”
Jamil watched her turn gracefully toward the door.
“Mother, could you give me up-to-date information on Tai’Lehr?”
The Queen turned back, looking puzzled by such a strange change of subject. Of course she was puzzled: the colonies and protectorate worlds of their grand clan had always been under her purview while Jamil, as the Crown Prince, handled their mainland territories on Calluvia.
“Tai’Lehr?” she said.
“Yes,” Jamil said, not feeling particularly bad for the lie he was about to tell her. It was a necessary lie. His mother could be like a dog with a bone if she started suspecting something. “I’ve been putting together an amendment to Section 4 of the Immigration Law that I want to propose to the Council. I’ve been able to find the information on all colonies of Calluvia—every colony but Tai’Lehr. I’d rather not present incomplete information to the Council, so your help would be appreciated.”