Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Every Calluvian child was bonded at the age of two or three, usually to a child close to their age. Seyn was an exception: he had been bonded right after his birth and his bondmate was eight years older than him. Apparently Prince Ksar’s first bondmate had been infected by a deadly virus while she was on another planet. The cure hadn’t been found in time, the disease damaging her telepathic center irrevocably, and she had died a slow, painful death. That left a wound in Ksar’s mind, his broken bond bleeding and damaging other parts of his brain. The best mind adepts of the planet, known collectively as High Hronthar, had come to the conclusion that Ksar must be bonded immediately again to stabilize his mind and telepathy. But there had been no unbonded children of royal blood close to Ksar’s age, so the Second Royal House had asked Seyn’s parents to take their unborn child out of the artificial womb early for the sole purpose of bonding Seyn to their heir.
It looked like the circumstances surrounding his bond were very different from other children’s. Seyn had been the only premature baby in history who had been bonded right after his birth. The age difference between him and his bondmate probably wasn’t helping the situation, either. Maybe it would get better as he grew older. Maybe it would get better once he actually met his betrothed.
But then, a few months later, when Seyn finally met his bondmate at the ball Seyn’s family was hosting to celebrate Jamil’s marriage, that hope was completely crushed.
* * *
“His Royal Highness Crown Prince Ksar’ngh’chaali of the Second Grand Clan.”
Seyn turned around and looked toward the double doors, excitement and anxiety making his heart thud painfully against his rib cage. Finally. Come to think of it, it was more than a little strange that he’d never met his betrothed before. He’d met Ksar’s younger brother, Harht, quite often, and Seyn considered him a good friend, but Ksar had always been either out or “busy” every time Seyn had visited the Second Royal Palace. Seyn had tried not to take it personally—technically, until he turned twenty-five and married Ksar, his bondmate had no obligations toward him. Seyn tried to tell himself that he would have no interest in some kid eight years younger than him, either, but he was only partly successful at convincing himself. Coupled with his weirdly weak bond, the lack of interest from his betrothed made him feel…a little insecure. Seyn normally wasn’t insecure or shy by any stretch of imagination—he had lots of friends, and everyone seemed to like him—but his bond had always made him anxious.
That was why Seyn stared curiously at the tall man making his way through the crowd, drawing stares from all over the ballroom. Ksar was dressed formally, in gray and black colors of the Second Royal House, his white cravat the only bright touch. Ksar’s long, midnight blue hair was tied back, drawing one’s gaze to his sharp jaw and austere, handsome features. He looked more mature than his twenty-two years.
For the first time, Seyn wondered if those rumors about Ksar’s parents genetically engineering him were true. Although genetic engineering was frowned upon, it wasn’t forbidden. Ksar definitely seemed too…perfect. It wasn’t his physical appearance. Ksar wasn’t as startlingly handsome as Jamil, but he had something Seyn’s brother didn’t: the air of quiet authority and the calm, kingly dignity. Despite the fact that there were no fewer than four kings and three queens present, it seemed as though he was the king—which should have been ridiculous.
And yet…
Seyn had seen Ksar’s pictures before, of course. He’d known what he looked like. But the pictures hadn’t prepared him for the self-possessed, commanding air about Ksar or for his cold, haughty expression that suddenly made Seyn self-conscious of how young and imperfect he was.
Shaking off his self-consciousness, Seyn straightened himself to his full height. He might be just fourteen, but he was Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli of the Third Grand Clan, not some farmer’s kid.
Schooling his features into an expression of neutral politeness, Seyn made his way toward his mothers and Ksar.
When he reached them, Seyn stared at Ksar’s back uncertainly. He opened his mind, still hoping that his weird bond would finally start working.
There was still nothing.
“Your Highness,” Seyn said.
Ksar’s shoulders tensed up a little.
Slowly, he turned around and looked at Seyn with silver eyes that gave nothing away.
Remembering his manners, Seyn gave him a bow. It wasn’t a deep one—he might not be the heir of his clan, but he was still a prince, and etiquette dictated that a shallow bow was enough.
Ksar didn’t bow back, of course. As the heir apparent of the Second Grand Clan, he only had to bow to the monarchs of the twelve grand clans and to the heir of the First Grand Clan. Unlike Seyn, he didn’t even have to bow to the royal consorts. When Ksar became the king, everyone but the monarch of the First Grand Clan would bow to him. And although technically the First Grand Clan was a little larger, the Second Grand Clan was far more powerful politically.