“So you used my obliviousness against me while all my life I wondered if there was something wrong with me.” Seyn’s voice wavered a little, but Harry didn’t think Ksar noticed. Seyn chuckled. “Nice. And here I thought I couldn’t dislike you more. Just out of curiosity, what were you going to do in two years’ time? Fake the completion of the bond? Mess with my head and make me think our bond was fine?”
Ksar’s face was awfully blank. Harry had a horrible suspicion that Seyn wasn’t wrong.
“I haven’t come to a decision yet,” Ksar said. “But that was one of the options.”
Seyn paled with fury.
Ignoring him, Ksar moved his gaze to Harry. “In any case, it’s irrelevant for you. Leylen’shni’gul would definitely notice—she already has. And before you ask, she’s not bonded to me, so I can’t exactly ‘mess with her head’ and make her think her bond is fine, at least not indefinitely. It’s not feasible.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped. Messing with Leylen’shni’gul’s head would be a terrible thing to do anyway. Harry told himself he was glad it wasn’t an option.
Ksar said, “If you don’t come back, her parents will go to the Council. The consequences…you can’t even imagine them. You have no choice, Harry.”
Harry.
For some reason, the use of his human name by his brother hurt. It finally made it real. He was going back. He had no choice.
Harry swallowed the hard lump in his throat, and said, “Just let me write him a note, then. I can’t disappear without a word again. I can’t do that to him, Ksar.”
His brother studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Keep it brief. Don’t say anything that’ll get you into trouble. Hurry up. We’re wasting time.”
Harry turned and disappeared into Adam’s bedroom. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the drawer in Adam’s room. He had to concentrate hard to make sure his handwriting was in English. The translating chip was a bit of a hit or miss when it came to writing.
It didn’t help that his vision was blurry with tears and his hand was shaking as he wrote a short, inadequate message.
By the end of it, Harry could barely see the letters—or anything else, for that matter.
He dropped the paper on Adam’s bed and wiped at his eyes.
Looking around the room, his gaze fell on the photograph of Adam with his arms around his parents. He was smiling widely, handsome and happy.
Harry’s eyes welled with tears again.
Harry bit his wobbling lip before removing the picture from its frame, folding it carefully, and hiding it in his pocket.
“Are you ready, Harht? We’re leaving,” Ksar said from the doorway. Seyn stood beside him, a sullen expression on his face, his wrist firmly gripped in Ksar’s hand.
“Take my hand,” Ksar ordered, offering Harry his other hand.
Harry stared at it.
He looked around the room for the last time, at the note on the bed, and took a step toward his brother.
If Ksar noticed that his eyes were wet, he didn’t comment on it as their hands clasped and the world—Earth—faded away, taking them away.
This time for good.
CHAPTER 22
Adam knocked on the door impatiently. When there was no answer, he told himself to get a grip. There was no reason to be anxious.
But no matter what he told himself, the niggling feeling that had been bothering him the entire afternoon only increased. Adam blamed Harry’s brother. The whole encounter had been off—kind of bizarre, actually. Adam couldn’t remember why he let Harry leave with his brother when he had been determined not to. He could only remember Harry promising him that he’d wait for him at home. Harry had told him that.
Adam pulled out his keys and opened the door.
His fingers were steady. His stomach wasn’t tied into hard knots. He had no reason to feel that way. Maybe Harry was in the shower. Maybe he had headphones on and couldn’t hear his knocking.
Adam pushed the door open.
The living room was empty.
The kitchen was empty, too.
A sickening sense of deja vu made it hard to breathe.
“Harry?” he called out roughly, his chest growing tight when silence was the only answer.
He strode to Harry’s old bedroom. It was empty.
His heart beating somewhere in his throat, Adam went to his room.
It was empty, too. There was no sign of Harry anywhere.
Adam’s gaze fell on the piece of paper on the bed.
He stared at it for a few seconds before slowly crossing the room.
He picked it up.
The handwriting was shaky and irregular, the letters slanted to the left instead of to the right.
Dear Adam,
I’m sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me and, looking back, say you were happy to have met me. I know I am. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel so lucky to have met you. I just wish... I wish a lot of things, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Please believe me when I say that never at any point did I lie to you about my feelings. You made me feel so very happy and loved.