And now he could do it. Tai’Lehr was granted an exemption from the Bonding Law, and divorce was now legally possible on Calluvia. Part of him still couldn’t believe that he’d accomplished all of this in just a little over a month, but it definitely helped that he’d had the support of the two arguably most powerful men on Calluvia: the Lord Chancellor and the High Adept of the High Hronthar. Neither of them was what Rohan would call a friend, but they were excellent allies, because they both had a lot to lose if the truth came out. Rohan was more concerned about Idhron—he could tell that Ksar, for all his ruthlessness, was a fairly decent man. Idhron was a power-hungry bastard, who didn’t seem to care about the means to achieve his ends. Rohan still had no idea what the High Hronthar had wanted with Mehmer and Idhron wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the information.
Tearing Rohan away from his thoughts, Sirri grinned, running a hand over his chest. “I think today calls for some celebration sex. Don’t you?”
Snorting, Rohan pushed her back gently. “I’m flattered, but I told you: I’m taken.”
Sirri laughed. “Are you still persisting with this? You can’t be taken by a married person.”
“That will change soon,” Rohan said curtly.
Sirri gave him a look that could only be described as pitying. “Darling, don’t get me wrong: you are a catch, and a great fuck, but do you really think the Ice Prince will mire himself in scandal for you?”
“He can get divorced now.”
“He can, but it doesn’t mean he will.” Sirri sighed. “Look, I want you to be happy, but… You are not naive, Rohan. The law doesn’t matter. Divorce is still very far from being socially acceptable on Calluvia, especially for such a high-profile marriage. It will be a scandal like no other if Prince Jamil suddenly decides to quit his fairy-tale romance and ditch his husband for someone who barely has a legal standing on Calluvia.”
Rohan’s jaw clenched. “We’ll see. What time is the ball that Dalatteya is throwing in Warrehn’s honor?”
Sirri stared at him. “Please tell me you don’t intend to deal with your relationship problems at such a public ball. We need to be there for Warrehn to make sure his dear auntie doesn’t poison him.”
Rohan shrugged. “No reason I can’t do both.”
Sirri shot him an exasperated look, shaking her head. “Men. Please tell me you’re actually thinking with your head now.”
Rohan said nothing, turning away.
He was self-aware enough to realize that he wasn’t thinking with his head. But he had waited long enough, dammit.
He was done letting another man call his family his.
Chapter 36
“His Royal Highness Crown Prince Ksar’ngh’chaali and His Highness Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli.”
Jamil glanced toward the entrance to the ballroom as the butler announced his brother and his fiancé. Seyn’s fingers were linked loosely with Prince Ksar’s, his head held high as he and his fiancé made their way through the crowd. Seyn was smiling at Ksar as they spoke quietly, his silver head leaning close to Ksar’s dark head. They made a beautiful couple— arrogant and proud, but beautiful nonetheless. It was also embarrassingly obvious how in love Seyn was. Ksar was harder to read, but Jamil was pretty sure he didn’t look away from Seyn’s face even once as they spoke. If the crowd didn’t part obligingly to let them through, they might have stumbled and fallen, but of course it didn’t even occur to Ksar that people wouldn’t part for him. Arrogant prick. Jamil wasn’t sure what Seyn saw in that man.
You’re just jealous, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. You’re jealous of your little brother’s happiness, of the fact that he can hold his man’s hand in public.
Jamil swallowed and looked away, his stomach clenching. He was suddenly acutely aware of how alone he felt in this crowded ballroom. He probably knew every single person in this ballroom, but he felt utterly alone, like an outsider, watching other people smile, laugh, and dance.
What was he doing here?
He should have stayed home, with Tmynne. He had wanted to, but his mothers insisted that he accompany them to Dalatteya’s ball, arguing that he’d become a recluse. They didn’t know anything yet.
“Darling, why are you hiding behind this plant?” a familiar voice said exasperatedly.
“I’m not hiding, Mother,” Jamil lied, forcing a faint smile as he turned to the Queen-Consort. “The plant just happens to be here.”
His mother quirked her eyebrows skeptically.
Jamil laughed. “All right, fine: I just didn’t feel like socializing.”
His mother didn’t smile. She eyed him strangely. “I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you laugh in a long time. Walk with me, darling?”
Jamil offered her his arm obligingly, wondering what it was about mothers that made one feel like a little boy despite being a grown man.