Wincing, Seyn sent him a wave of reassurance and comfort. Perhaps his voice hadn’t been as firm as he had thought.
Sighing, Jamil reached out to his little brother through their familial bond. “I’m fine, kid.”
Seyn hugged him back telepathically, his touch tentative and a bit awkward. As the baby of the family, Seyn wasn’t used to giving comfort, and the mere fact that he was attempting to do it was as adorable as it was uncalled for.
Jamil reinforced his mental shields, focusing his thoughts on Mehmer.
“Are you, really?” Seyn said, his voice tinged with genuine concern.
Jamil shrugged, feeling a pang of guilt. “I still reach for his mind sometimes, but it’s getting easier, I suppose. The mind adepts said the bond would heal in time and all I would feel is absence.” That part was true at least, even though it had been months since he’d last seen a mind adept. After Rohan’s strange warning about them, Jamil couldn’t help but feel wary. He had tried to research the ancient Order but found nothing incriminating. The monks of the High Hronthar were peaceful learners of the mind arts, who historically stayed away from the petty politics of the twelve royal houses of Calluvia. It made no sense that they would be involved in Mehmer’s death.
“I still don’t get why they don’t remove the bond from your mind,” Seyn grumbled half-heartedly.
“It’s against the law,” Jamil said. “Besides, the High Adept said the bond has been in my mind too long and it isn’t safe to remove it. It’s interwoven with everything by now.” The High Adept had really said that right after Mehmer’s death, but Jamil couldn’t help but wonder if it was still true. Lately he could barely feel his bond to Mehmer. Only when he took time to meditate could he see the pitiful remnants of his torn bond woven around his telepathic core. The sight was unsettling. He could have never imagined that less than a year after Mehmer’s death, he would barely be able to feel the bond between them—the bond they had shared for most of their lives. It felt like an end of something. An end of an era.
“And to be honest…” Jamil said, watching his daughter, a daughter who would look nothing like Mehmer. “I want to keep it. I still feel him that way, a little. Like an echo. I don’t want to pretend he never existed. He did.” The pitiful remnant of their marriage bond was the only thing he still had of Mehmer. It was bad enough that Mehmer would never be the man he would see when he looked at his daughter.
Jamil cut that train of thought off.
“You still didn’t tell me why you were hiding here,” he said, turning to Seyn.
His brother blinked innocently, putting on a confused look that he probably thought was convincing. “I wasn’t hiding.”
Jamil snorted. Did Seyn think he was born yesterday? “And I suppose you weren’t declining all invitations, either.”
Seyn winced, looking genuinely surprised.
Jamil was amused despite himself. Had Seyn thought that Jamil was so absorbed in his grief that he’d failed to notice that his normally very sociable little brother was avoiding society like the plague? Jamil might be rarely attending social functions himself, but it was one of his jobs as the Crown Prince to make sure his family wasn’t the subject of malicious gossip. He closely worked with their press officer, and she had recently informed him that people were starting to wonder why Prince Seyn had turned into a hermit.
“Just not feeling it,” Seyn said, avoiding his gaze.
“You?”
Laughing, Seyn rolled his eyes. “I can get tired of socializing, too.” He went silent for a moment. “I had a fight with Ksar,” he admitted at last, scowling. “Now I’m avoiding him, because I won’t be responsible for my actions if I see his stupid face.”
Jamil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He should have known. Seyn was absolutely impossible when it came to his betrothed. “For heaven’s sake, Seyn. You should try harder to get along with your bondmate. Every relationship needs work, bond or no bond. Personally, I don’t get why you dislike him. He’s highly intelligent, and he’s perfectly reasonable and polite—”
“To you, maybe,” Seyn said with a scoff. “You’re the Crown Prince of our grand clan. He sees you as his equal.”
“Not really,” Jamil said, shaking his head. “His social standing is quite a bit higher domestically, and a lot higher in the intergalactic political scene. We aren’t really equals, so that can’t be why Ksar’ngh’chaali is perfectly civil to me.”
“It isn’t exactly comforting, you know,” Seyn muttered, scowling again.
Jamil chuckled and stood up. Grazing his fingers against the gestation cube’s outer wall, he turned to the door but then paused as he realized something. After Mehmer’s death, it had been hard for him to be around Seyn when his brother bitched and whined about his own bondmate, but now… there was no pain anymore. There was no envy.