Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
It took decades to recover from that war and its consequences.
To prevent something like that from ever happening again, the Council of the Grand Clans had proposed a solution: to bond all children’s telepathic cores from an early age. Such a childhood bond worked differently from any other telepathic bond, digging itself deep into the child’s psyche and making it impossible for someone to force a marriage bond. Any other time such a proposal would have undoubtedly led to a debate on consent issues, since children couldn’t give their consent, but after years of bloodshed and decades of rebuilding, no one wanted something like that to happen again and most were relieved by the solution.
But every now and then, there were people who rebelled against the bond, everything it represented—and everything it had stolen.
* * *
Seyn walked down the familiar corridor leading to Harht’s quarters, excited and impatient to see his best friend for the first time in five months. He had been off-planet when he’d gotten the news of Harht’s return from Terra. Seyn hadn’t been able to return to Calluvia sooner, no matter how much he worried for his friend. And he was worried. Harht had seemed off when Seyn called him. He had told Seyn they’d talk when Seyn got back—as if Harht was afraid that someone would overhear what he had to say. That had certainly piqued Seyn’s curiosity.
“His Highness is expecting you, Your Highness,” the palace AI said in its neutral voice.
“Is Ksar home, Borg’gorn?” Seyn said before he could stop himself. He hadn’t seen Ksar in twenty-four days and he was perfectly happy about it. He just…he just needed to know if Ksar was in the building. He felt off-kilter if he didn’t know for sure.
“No, the Crown Prince is at the Ministry, Your Highness.”
Seyn pursed his lips, wondering if it was true or if Ksar had told Borg’gorn to tell him that. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as though he wanted to see the asshole, either.
The door to Harht’s quarters slid open and Seyn strode in.
The familiar room immediately put him at ease. He’d always liked Harht’s rooms for their floor-to-ceiling transparent walls with spectacular views of Pheriana Bay. The Second Royal Palace was located in one of the most beautiful places on Calluvia, surrounded by Pheriana Bay and Baldur National Park. Sometimes Seyn almost wished to live here—his parents’ palace was surrounded by foggy swamps and the Gray Mountains and it was nowhere near as pretty—but then he remembered what living here would entail. No pretty views would compensate for Ksar’s presence under the same roof.
Shaking the thought off, Seyn focused his eyes on the single occupant of the spacious room.
Harht was seated on the couch, and there was a hologram of some planet in front of him, but his violet eyes were focused on Seyn. Harht smiled at him, his face as dear and kind as ever. Truth be told, Seyn had no idea how they had become such good friends when they couldn’t be more different. Harht was a gentle soul: kind, trusting, and a little naive. He always believed the best in people. Harht liked everyone. His only flaw was his relatives.
“Harht,” Seyn said, reaching out with his mind to his friend’s. To his surprise and concern, Harht’s mind didn’t feel as tranquil and welcoming as usual.
“I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped by the barbarians on Sol III,” Seyn said, eyeing Harht discreetly. There was something different about him. Something off.
Harht frowned and gave him a telepathic smack. “Humans are not barbarians. Don’t be a snob. And I’ve been back for ages already. Not my fault you were off-planet.”
Seyn scrunched up his nose and gave Harht a sheepish smile. “Ugh, I was being a snob. Good thing I have you to tell me when I act snobbish and top-lofty.”
“Ksar must have rubbed off on you,” Harht said with a smirk that didn’t quite look natural.
“Don’t even joke about it,” Seyn said, flopping down on the couch next to Harht. He scowled. “You have permission to kill me the day I start acting like Ksar.”
“Sorry,” Harht said, patting Seyn’s shoulder. “He’s not a monster, you know.”
Seyn scoffed. “He’s your brother. Of course you’d say that. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about that asshole.” He met his friend’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Harht?”
“Harry,” Harht said, his voice wavering a little. “I got used to the name and I like it very much.”
Seyn’s curiosity flared, but he just nodded, having a feeling that this was somehow important to his friend. If Harht wanted to be called Harry, he could do that. Harry suited him better, actually. It sounded softer. “So, what’s wrong? You’re giving off some really negative vibes.”
Harry waved his hand to remove the hologram and opened the security settings of the room.