“This is so bizarre,” Jamil said at last, breaking the silence. There was a small wrinkle between his brows. “I think I actually believe you. But how can I be sure that I really believe you and that you aren’t just compelling me into believing that I believe you?” He made a funny face. “Ugh, my head hurts.”
Rohan found himself smiling. “If I messed with your head, you wouldn’t be wondering about it, Your Highness.”
The prince pressed his lips together as if to prevent himself from smiling. Rohan could feel his reluctant amusement anyway.
Jamil frowned suddenly, his amusement gone, replaced by something that felt a lot like guilt.
Rohan studied him. “Your husband has been gone for five months. You shouldn’t feel guilty for feeling amusement. You’re not dead.”
Jamil glared at him. “Get out of my head.”
“I wasn’t in your head,” Rohan said. “If I were, you’d know.” His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Actually, you’re the one person who shouldn’t be worried about me manipulating your memories and thoughts. If I got into your mind, I would be too distracted to accomplish much of anything.”
A faint flush appeared on the prince’s cheekbones. “You did compel me,” he said stiffly.
Rohan shook his head. “Compulsion is simply a gift for making people do something. I basically just force my will on that person, nothing more. It doesn’t require deep telepathic contact and it doesn’t last long. It’s a short-term solution.” He averted his gaze, trying to think of a way to explain it. “Take your stable master, for a example. I used compulsion on him to get an audience with him. I kept him under compulsion while I manipulated his memories to make him think that I was the perfect candidate for the job. Without the gift for compulsion I wouldn’t have had the time to do it, but compulsion alone isn’t enough: it doesn’t manipulate people’s memories and thoughts. To do that to you I’ll have to get deep in you.”
The faint flush on the prince’s cheeks became brighter. He stood up and took a step away. “Very well. I’m choosing to believe you—for now. I’ll have to think about it, away from…” Jamil winced, looking uncomfortable.
“Me,” Rohan finished for him quietly.
Their eyes met.
“Is this normal?” the prince said.
Rohan didn’t need to delve into his mind to know what he meant. But fucking hell, did he want to.
“It’s always a little distracting,” Rohan said. “But it gets easier with more exposure.” It had better get easier, dammit.
“Exposure?” Prince Jamil looked as though he’d swallowed something unpleasant.
Rohan almost laughed at his expression. “Usually people just have sex. But it’s not necessary. A simple touch can help too.” He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the prince’s wrist. His breathing hitched as the distracting need under his skin quieted a little, soothed by the contact. He lifted his eyes back to the prince. “See? Better, isn’t it?”
Jamil stared at him, his gaze a little glazed, his lips parted as he breathed through his mouth. “This is unnatural,” he said. “I don’t like this.”
“On the contrary, this is very natural,” Rohan said, brushing his thumb against the inside of the prince’s wrist. “This was how it was supposed to be before the Council decided to bind everyone by artificial bonds and took people’s agency away.”
Jamil gave him a pinched look. “I don’t feel like I have a lot of agency right now.” He glared down at their hands, though he wasn’t pulling his wrist away. “Stop—stop that.”
Rohan released his wrist, his fingers dragging down the prince’s palm before pulling back. Immediately, the need was back, though a little less urgent. Touching did help—not as much as he would have liked, but it did.
Jamil licked his lips. “I have to go.”
Rohan looked away. “Go,” he said shortly, irritated with himself for his inexplicable belief that the prince wouldn’t call for security the moment he was out of the room. “I will appreciate your help, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to give it. Just don’t make things harder for me, all right?” Don’t sic security on me.
The prince was silent for a while, just looking at him, before quietly slipping out of the room.
Rohan let himself fall back on his mattress, groaning on the inside.
Warrehn was going to kill him.
Chapter 7
Jamil looked at the Captain of the Royal Guard seated across his desk and said, “I wish to know details of my husband’s death.”
Although Captain Zetht’s expression didn’t change, Jamil could still feel his faint surprise. He tightened his mental shields, his mind still involuntarily shying away from any telepathic contact after yesterday’s confrontation with Rohan. Not that the rebel had truly touched his mind—not deep enough at least—but it still felt odd to feel another person’s mental presence. Jarring.
Jamil suppressed a scowl, annoyed by his thoughts. It felt like he had been incapable of thinking of anything else for the past few days but him. It was… disconcerting. No matter what Rohan had claimed, Jamil wasn’t convinced he wasn’t influencing him in some way—because such behavior wasn’t normal, not for him. Seyn was the one who tended to obsess and fixate; Jamil was the rational one. Supposed to be.