“If it makes you feel better, you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” a sleepy voice said with a chuckle. “The fairest of them all.”
Jamil’s face burned. “Stop eavesdropping on my thoughts.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Rohan said, nuzzling into his nape. “They were very loud.”
“I thought the merge broke while we slept.”
“It did,” Rohan confirmed, yawning and showing no inclination to move. “But it looks like we’re more attuned to each other now. Not exactly surprising after such a deep merge.”
Frowning, Jamil tried to reinforce his shields. He also tried to make himself pull away from Rohan’s embrace. He failed on both counts. His limbs refused to listen to his commands, and his mind felt… different. Brighter. Calmer. Warmer.
It took him a few moments to realize what was different. There was a very thin golden thread wrapped around his core, just above his torn bond to Mehmer, so thin he could barely feel it.
“What is this?” Jamil said, his heart beating faster.
“Hmm?”
Jamil nudged him mentally toward the golden thread. “This!”
He felt Rohan freeze, his body going rigid against him.
And then Rohan cursed so elaborately it would have made Jamil blush had he not been so worried. Rohan sprang away from him as though burned and rolled off the bed.
Jamil sat up and watched him pace the room agitatedly.
“It’s a bond,” Rohan said at last, his jaw working. Gone was the teasing, infuriatingly unflappable man Jamil had come to know. He was beginning to realize he’d never seen Rohan truly angry. He was angry now. Rohan’s mouth was a thin straight line and a vein throbbed in his temple. Rohan glared at him, raking a hand through his short hair, anger rolling off him in thick, suffocating waves.
“Why are you looking at me like it’s my fault?”
Rohan chuckled harshly, turning away. “How are you so calm about this?”
Jamil shrugged, sitting up. “I’m not calm. But I don’t understand why you’re so angry. I’m sure this… accidental bond will break in no time or you will break it yourself. It’s very thin, nothing like my bond to Mehmer was.”
Although Rohan didn’t disagree with him aloud, Jamil could still feel his agitation.
“I need to get into Dalatteya’s palace as soon as possible,” Rohan said in a clipped voice. “And then I’ll be out of your hair, Your Highness.”
Jamil flinched. He crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling chilly. “All right,” he said after a moment. “I have an idea—it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a few days, actually.”
“What idea?” Rohan said, without looking at him.
He didn’t like it.
He didn’t like it when Rohan didn’t look at him.
Jamil frowned, more than a little disturbed by his own thoughts. “A few days ago, Dalatteya sent me the old reports on her nephews’ kidnapping.”
Rohan’s broad shoulders tensed. “And?”
“According to those reports, her nephews were attacked by the rebels within one tarsec of where Mehmer was killed,” Jamil said, watching Rohan carefully. “What a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Slowly, Rohan turned around. “Where are you going with this?”
Jamil cocked his head to the side, perversely enjoying the way Rohan’s eyes immediately went to his neck—to the hickeys on his telepathic point. Regardless of his constant use of dermal regenerators, Jamil always seemed to end up with an assortment of old and new hickeys there. Rohan may not want him, but he was as helpless against their unnatural connection as Jamil was. It felt oddly satisfying to know that.
“I just find it curious that out of all possible places, the two princes of the Fifth Grand Clan and the prince-consort of the Third Grand Clan were supposedly attacked by the rebels within one tarsec from each other. The Kavalchi Mountains are thousands of tarsecs long. What are the odds?”
Something shifted across Rohan’s face. “What are you hinting at? You seem to have figured it all out. Let’s hear it.” He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. His black eyes remained on Jamil, intense and penetrating.
Once again, Jamil was disturbed by how much he enjoyed it: having Rohan’s focus on him and him only.
Gods, this was getting out of hand.
“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “All I know is that you haven’t told me something. Something important. And you can’t expect me to help you if I don’t have all the information.” He was proud of how rational his voice sounded. His voice hadn’t betrayed that he felt stupidly hurt. It was ridiculous. Rohan was nothing to him. He’d known him for seventeen days. He shouldn’t be hurt by his lack of trust. It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal.
But it did.
“I already told you more than I should have,” Rohan said, his tone vaguely uncomfortable and annoyed. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“This!” Rohan gesticulated toward Jamil’s face, as if it personally offended him. “This hurt, sad kitten face you’re putting on. It makes me—it drives me crazy.”