25 Chapter (1)

Rohan walked a step behind Jamil, trying to look as subservient as possible.

The Fifth Royal Palace was obnoxiously luxurious. Everything about it seemed to scream look how rich and powerful we are. Rohan found he much preferred Jamil’s home—the Third Royal Palace was far more tastefully decorated. He idly wondered if the decor reflected the regent’s taste or the deceased Queen’s.

They stopped in front of the tall door, and the droid butler announced Jamil.

If Rohan were a real manservant, he would have stayed outside, waiting for his master to emerge. But he wasn’t confident in his ability to ess the regent’s mind without eye contact, so he followed Jamil in.

“Your Highness,” Dalatteya said, bowing gracefully. Her sharp gaze assessed Jamil before flicking to Rohan. “I would appreciate it if you have your servant wait outside.”

“Do as the lady says,” Jamil said without even glancing at him.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Rohan murmured, bowing deeply and catching Dalatteya’s eyes. It lasted a fraction of a moment, but it was enough for him to get under her shields. He backed out of the room and let the doors close behind him.

Turning his back to the security camera, he closed his eyes, concentrating. As was typical for Calluvians, Dalatteya’s telepathy was limited by the remnants of her bond to her late husband. In her bonded state, she was a Class 1 telepath, her shields not particularly good. Rohan was exponentially stronger than her. Still, navigating her mind without her noticing was harder than he had expected—mostly because he kept getting distracted by the shiny, brilliant warmth of Jamil’s mind. It was frustrating as hell. It was like trying to focus on a candle and ignore the sun.

Quit getting fixated and do what you’re here for.

Dalatteya had a strange mind. It took him a while to understand why her mind didn’t make much sense, why her motivations seemed off. When he did, he stiffened.

Her memories had been tampered with.

It wasn’t obvious, but there was a faint trace of wrongness about some of her memories that Rohan recognized only because he’d studied the mind arts extensively for years. But it wasn’t what made him alarmed. When he tried to undo the tampered memories, he couldn’t do it—that was the alarming part. He was a well-trained, high-level telepath. This shouldn’t have been possible. To make matters worse, he could feel a gut-wrenching fear every time he tried to undo her tampered memories. Her fear.

She was scared.

She was scared of the person who’d done this to her.

It was quite clever, Rohan mused. Dalatteya’s subconscious remembered just enough to do that person’s bidding, their manipulations hidden deep in her psyche without giving her any proof of who was manipulating her and why.

He felt almost sorry for the woman—now her paranoia made a lot more sense—before remembering the crimes she’dmitted. Because she hadmitted them. He couldn’t find any evidence of her mind being manipulated back when she’d tried to kill her own nephews. That was all her, no one else. The third-party manipulation started much later, though Rohan wasn’t sure when.

Dalatteya also wasn’t in any way responsible for Mehmer’s death. She didn’t know anything about it. She didn’t seem to know anything about the rebels, either.

As for Tai’Lehr—

Something sprang out of the corner of her mind and lunged for his telepathic core. Rohan barely managed to bring his shields up in time.

Breathing hard, he pulled out of her mind and opened his eyes, unease making his stomach churn.

A mind trap. It was a mind trap.

He’d been taught about them, but he’d never actually encountered one before. It was a very hard skill to master. Mind traps were extremely dangerous. They couldpletely destroy the mind of the trespasser who triggered it. They didn’t practice mind traps on Tai’Lehr.

But Rohan knew who did.

* * *

Jamil bowed slightly to Dalatteya and turned to leave, glad the ordeal was over. Playing the role of a paranoid, revenge-thirsty widower had been rather tiring. As expected, Dalatteya hadn’t offered any insight. She was a master of saying a lot without saying anything of substance. But her sharp, watchful gaze on him didn’t match her meaningless chatter. It made him uneasy.

He found Rohan waiting for him outside Dalatteya’s office.

One look at Rohan’s blank face and grim eyes told him everything he needed: Rohan had found what he was looking for in Dalatteya’s mind.

Jamil could barely contain himself. He was dying to ask, but it was neither the time nor the place. He would have to wait until they returned home.

“Well?” he said as soon as they were finally back in Jamil’s rooms.

Rohan just looked at him for a long moment, his black eyes inscrutable. But Jamil could sense something like unease through their idental bond. Unease and a sense of great urgency.

“I need to go home.”

Jamil stared at him. “Why?” A part of him, the rational one, knew it was the wrong question to ask. Of course Rohan would go home. If he’d really learned everything he needed to know, there was no damn reason for him to stay.

“I’ve found something in the regent’s mind. Something very worrying. I need to go home.”

Jamil pursed his lips and turned his face away. “Really? That’s all you’re going to tell me? After everything I did to help you?” He tried to sound angry, not hurt. He wasn’t sure he seeded.

Rohan stepped to him and, taking him by shoulders, forced him to look at him. “Jamil.”

Jamil shivered. He hated how Rohan said his name: with an almost silent ‘l,’ soft like a warm embrace.

“What?” he said stiffly.

Rohan’s gaze was searching. “If I could tell you what I learned without endangering you, I would. But your bond to Mehmer still binds your telepathy. You can’t sufficiently protect your mind.”

“I can.”

“Not from high-level telepaths.”

Jamil’s stomach dropped. “There are no high-level telepaths on Calluvia.”

Rohan’s expression became pinched. “Officially.” He squeezed Jamil’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but stay away from the mind adepts of the High Hronthar.”

Jamil’s brows furrowed.

He stared at Rohan, and Rohan stared back.

Jamil nodded slowly. What Rohan was implying seemed unbelievable, but Jamil trusted him.

He trusted him, a man he knew pretty much nothing about, a man who’d used underhanded means to get into his home, a man who wasn’t even telling him what he’d learned from Dalatteya.

Was it crazy?

Maybe.

Hell, there was no maybe about it.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” Rohan said, probably reading his thoughts. Although his face remained mostly blank, his dark eyes burned with raw honesty, his hands traveling up the slope of Jamil’s shoulders to settle on his neck. Rohan cradled it gently, his fingers pressing against his telepathic core, which pulsed longingly for him.

Jamil made a face, pulling back a little. “Don’t do this.” I can’t think when you do this.

Rohan smiled wryly. “Yeah. Probably not a good idea. We will lose hours if we merge.”

“Will you break the bond now?”

Rohan grimaced. “Unlike artificial bonds, it’s difficult to break a natural bond intentionally. But it’s a new bond. It’s still very thin and fragile. It should break on its own with distance and time, and it will probably be less painful that way.”

Jamil knew he should probably insist on Rohan doing it anyway, but something in him instinctively shied away from the idea. Maybe a gradual breaking really would be better.

“What about Mehmer’s killer?” he said.

Rohan’s lips thinned. “I don’t know. She really didn’t know about it. I have… an idea about what might have happened, but I’ll have to confirm a few things first. It’ll take time.” He smoothed the line between Jamil’s brows with a thumb. “Don’t fixate on finding Mehmer’s murderer, okay? He’s dead. He doesn’t care if he’s avenged or not.”

Jamil glared at him half-heartedly. “Your flippant attitude toward Mehmer’s death is offensive, you know.”

Rohan had the nerve to shrug. “Avenging his death is the least of my worries, to be honest. Dead can’t be hurt.” He looked into Jamil’s eyes grimly, cradling his nape. “Promise me you’ll leave it alone. Don’t try to investigate it yourself.”

“I can’t just ignore the issue when my husband’s murderer is still out there, unpunished and—”

“Promise me,” Rohan said forcefully, something fierce and anxious in his eyes.

That made Jamil pause. He could feel Rohan’s concern, strong and gut-wrenching. Concern for him.

“If my suspicions are correct, the prince-consort’s death is only the tip of the iceberg,” Rohan said. “It’s not as simple as finding a single murderer, Jamil. Trust me. Stay away from that mess.”

His stomach in knots, Jamil could only nod.

“Thank you.” Rohan leaned in and kissed him on the cheek gently. “And thank you for your help,” he murmured, his arms slipping down Jamil’s shoulders to give him a brief but tight hug. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jamil stared at the opposite wall and realized that this was a goodbye.

Rohan was leaving, and he was probably nevering back.

Jamil pressed his lips together, his throat suddenly tight.

He didn’t know why he felt like… like this. He’d known Rohan would leave as soon as he learned what he was there for. He’d known that. This was for the best. He was starting to be attached.

Starting?

Jamil almost laughed at himself. What was wrong with him, seriously? They weren’t even friends, not really. They certainly weren’t lovers, either. Rohan was… He was something else, his not-quite-friend, not-quite-lover, not-quite-bondmate, not-quite-servant.

Even if Rohan could stay, what would they be to each other? How long could it stay secret that Jamil was hopelessly addicted to having his manservant’s mind in him? That Jamil had something of a perverse bond with him? The scandal would be enormous. Even if he were willing to risk it, Rohan clearly had no intention of staying. He probably hadn’t even entertained the idea. While he did seem somewhat attached to Jamil,