Rohan’s hand rubbed Jamil’s bicep as he pulled him closer with a protective arm around him. Jamil buried his face in the crook of Rohan’s neck, his eyes closing.
“He’s fine,” he repeated. “It’s just been a while. He gets clingy when we’ve been apart for a long time.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m not much better, to be honest, but I’ve had the best training in the mind arts Tai’Lehr could offer. Jamil hasn’t. The merge is more overwhelming for him while I can still maintain part of my awareness of the outside world.”
Suppressing his curiosity about the training Rohan had received—now wasn’t the time to discuss it—Seyn asked, “What did you want me here for? Jamil started talking about it before getting… distracted.”
“We want your help. Or rather, your fiancé’s help. To get the High Adept’s support, I had to promise Idhron things I’d rather not give him.” Rohan grimaced. “That man has too much power as it is. You told Jamil that Prince Ksar was able to get behind Idhron’s shields and get some dirt on him. If you could convince Ksar to share what he learned, it would be very helpful.”
Seyn frowned, his stomach clenching in discomfort as he remembered his last meeting with the High Adept of the High Hronthar. “I’ll ask Ksar. I don’t think he’ll refuse to tell you, even though he isn’t exactly your biggest fan after you all but blackmailed him to support you in the Council.”
Rohan shrugged, not looking very contrite. To be fair, he seemed to be paying the conversation only marginal attention at best, his gaze on Jamil’s face as Jamil’s eyelashes fluttered open.
“All right?” Rohan murmured, his voice significantly softer as they gazed into each other’s eyes. “Feeling better?”
Jamil gave him a smile that Seyn could only describe as smitten. “Yeah. So much better. Love you.”
Seyn turned away, beyond uncomfortable. A merge was an incredibly intimate experience and he felt like a voyeur watching it—and kind of envious. Not trusting his self-control, Ksar allowed them to merge only when Seyn demanded it during sex. Seyn’s stomach fluttered as he imagined what a merge with Ksar would feel like outside sex.
He should absolutely find out.
“All right, I’ll get on with it,” Seyn said, clearing his throat. “I’ll speak to Ksar right now. I’m sure you two will be fine without me chaperoning you—” He turned to the couple and then promptly turned away, flushing. “Could you maybe wait until I’m gone before you get into his lap, brother?”
“Go away,” came a breathless reply between the kissing sounds. “And you didn’t see anything.”
Laughing, Seyn left.
He was the best chaperon ever, wasn’t he?
Epilogue
“Mommy, look!”
Shayla looked up from the oven as her seven-year-old daughter burst into the kitchen, waving a magazine in her hand.
“What is it, Nina?” Shayla said, straightening up, which wasn’t an easy feat so late in her pregnancy.
Nina beamed at her. “Look, Mom, the prince’s wedding is in this magazine! There are so many pretty pictures!”
Shayla barely suppressed a grimace. She knew who Nina was referring to, of course: she’d talked of little else for the past month.
Personally, Prince Jamil’s wedding was one of her least favorite topics. It was still hard for her to accept that her favorite couple had broken up—and married different people.
Shayla still remembered how ecstatic she’d been when she heard the news of Prince-Consort Mehmer’s miraculous return home. She had felt so happy, as though it was her own husband who had come back to life. When a few months later it was announced that Prince Jamil and his husband were getting a divorce, there had probably been no one as shocked and upset as Shayla was. Irrationally, she had hoped it was all a mistake and her ship would get back together, except then she read the news about Mehmer’s rather sudden marriage to a renowned interplanetary magnate. And as if that wasn’t enough, the Third Royal House of Calluvia had announced Prince Jamil’s engagement to the governor of Tai’Lehr. Privately, Shayla thought it was a political match, that Prince Jamil’s family just wanted to save Jamil’s face after his former husband’s prompt second marriage. So she had ignored all articles about the engaged couple—until now.
Reluctantly, Shayla accepted the magazine from her daughter and glanced at the cover.
And then she took a longer look, her mouth falling open.
Oh.
The prince was glowing; there was no other word for it. If she had thought Prince Jamil was beautiful before, he was ethereal now, his face lit up with love and happiness as he gazed at his new husband.
As for his new husband… Shayla had to admit that Lord Tai’Lehr looked as enamored with his bondmate, his dark eyes full of tenderness and desire. They looked… they looked right together.
Biting her lip, Shayla turned the pages of the magazine, looking at picture after picture of the newlyweds and royal guests: Mehmer, on the arm of his tycoon; King Warrehn, staring intently at someone outside the camera frame; Prince Ksar and his consort, conversing with a group of some politicians; Prince Harht, sitting so close to his Terran fiancé he might as well be in his lap. They all looked so beautiful, confident, and happy.