6 Chapter (1)

“Darling, may Ie in?”

Jamil flinched and hastily straightened in his chair. “Mother,” he said with a faint smile, hoping his mother didn’t see him staring into nothing instead of working. “Of course you may. You don’t have to ask.”

Queen Janesh of the Third Grand Clan smiled at him and glided into his office. She was a tall, graceful woman, still splendidly beautiful despite her age. All three of her children had taken after her, inheriting her impable bone structure and green eyes. Jamil’s younger brother looked like her the most, down to her silver-white hair, while Jamil had inherited the Queen’s height and full lips. Their sister, Gynesh, looked more like the Queen-Consort than the Queen, but she had the Queen’s grace.

“Am I interrupting?” his mother said, glancing at the reports in front of him.

“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” Jamil said, trying to gauge why his mother was here. Although they lived under the same roof, his mothers lived in another wing of the palace and didn’t like constricting their children’s freedom in any way. Jamil couldn’t remember the last time the Queen hade to his office; he usually went to hers. “Is something the matter?”

Queen Janesh sat down and studied him. “How are you, Jamil?”

He looked at his hands, at the black mourning bracelet on his left wrist. “I’m well, Mother. Is something the matter?”

The Queen was silent for a long moment. He could feel her gaze on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“I didn’t want to broach this subject,” she said at last. “But my advisers have been bringing it up lately, and I couldn’t continue putting it off without making you appear unfit to rule.”

Jamil stiffened, his gaze snapping to his mother’s, green meeting green. “What are you talking about, Your Majesty?” Clearly she was here in her official capacity.

Queen Janesh sighed. “It has been brought to my attention that our line of session is in danger while you don’t have an heir.”

Jamil swallowed.

He couldn’t say he was surprised. He had been expecting this conversation for some time.

As the Crown Prince, one of his duties was providing the throne with the heir, a duty he still hadn’t fulfilled. The Queen was thankfully in perfect health, but it was natural that their people would start worrying that there was a danger to the line of session. Jamil might have a younger sister and brother, but neither of them could ascend to the throne if something happened to Jamil: his sister, Gynesh, was going to marry the King of the Eighth Grand Clan later this year, while his younger brother Seyn was betrothed to the Crown Prince of the Second Grand Clan. Since the law prohibited the same person to be a consort of a monarch and another grand clan’s monarch, Jamil couldn’t count on his younger siblings to continue the line of session. The responsibility of providing the heir lay entirely on him.

Except he was a widower, and in their society, widowers didn’t remarry. Normally, even being a widower wouldn’t be a problem: it was custom for members of the royal family to use their late spouse’s preserved gic material to have an heir if there was none. Jamil could have used Mehmer’s preserved sperm—and his own—to create the much needed heir in any of the numerous gic centers of the pl. After all, artificial wombs had been invented for a reason.

The problem was, Mehmer had never bothered to preserve his gic material.

“I’m afraid it isn’t possible, Mother,” Jamil said, folding his hands on his lap and clenching them where his mother couldn’t see. The subject was still… rather painful. Just months ago, he and Mehmer had been talking about it, finally ready for a child. Just months ago, Mehmer had still been alive.

The Queen’s elegant brows furrowed. “Darling,” she said gently. “I know your husband is gone, but you can still have his child—”

“I can’t,” Jamil said. “You know how he was. He didn’t like the idea of making a baby in a lab. We were going to…” He bit his lip, blushing slightly. No matter how old he was, it was still awkward as hell to talk about sex with his mother. How could he tell the Queen that Mehmer had liked the idea of making a child—gathering their sperm—during actual sex instead of just masturbating into a lab container?

Thankfully, the Queen seemed to understand what he couldn’t say.

“Oh,” she said faintly, frowning. “That’s something of a handicap, I admit.”

Jamil stared at her incredulously. “Something of a handicap?”

Queen Janesh looked at him steadily. “You can still have a child with another man. If we can find a man willing to donate his gic material, no one has to know that the baby isn’t your husband’s.”

Speechless, Jamil opened his mouth and closed it. What his mother was proposing seemed… unthinkable. He didn’t want a child with some stranger.

“I can’t do it, Mother,” he finally managed. “I won’t.”

The Queen’s expression waspassionate 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 ufortably. 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 ot 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 iplete information to the Council, so your help would be appreciated.”

His mother stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Jamil, but I cannot give you up-to-date information on the colony. We do not possess it.”

Jamil frowned. “What? Why?”

Queen Janesh was frowning, too. “As you well know, Tai’Lehr has been basically cut off Calluvia by the Sh