Once Upon a Time

第19章 Chapter (2)

in front of the door to his office and took a moment to arrange his thoughts in some semblance of order. He re-built his mental shields, taking care to hide any thoughts of Rohan di’Lehr at the deepest corners of his mind.

At last, feeling as ready as he could be, Jamil entered his office.

The sole upant of the room turned away from the windows and looked at him, his face expressionless.

Although the man was around Jamil’s age, not old by any stretch of imagination considering that Calluvians generally lived over one hundred and fifty years, he seemed… not older, exactly, but dignified. Stern. Silver-white straight hair fell to the man’s shoulders, not softening his broad, classically handsome face. Ice-blue eyes met Jamil’s, their expression unreadable.

Although it was Jamil’s eighth meeting with him since Mehmer’s death, this man still remained a mystery to him.

To be fair, it was probably a job requirement, considering who this man was.

Master Castien Idhron, the High Adept of the High Hronthar, the Grandmaster of the P’gni Order, the Head Mind Healer: this man held many titles. He was one of the most powerful men on the pl, recently promoted after the death of his predecessor. Although there were rumors that he’d achieved his high position by dubious means, Jamil had never been afraid of him.

But now he was. Because this man was likely the most skilled telepath on the pl, and he was going to look into Jamil’s mind. And for the first time, Jamil actually had something he would like to hide.

“Your Highness,” the High Adept said with a shallow bow that seemed more like a nod. Although Jamil was the Crown Prince of the third largest grand clan of Calluvia, the High Hronthar had always stood apart from the regular social hierarchy. The monks of the Order seemed to care very little for politics, their lives dedicated to the mind arts. It was said that they strove to achieve total control over their bodies and minds, purging all emotion.

Frankly, the monks had always made Jamil a little uneasy.

“Your Grace,” he said evenly, bowing deeper. “My apologies for my tardiness.”

Master Idhron didn’t bother to assure him that he didn’t mind waiting. Jamil winced inwardly. The High Adept was a very busy man. Of course he had better things to do with his time than wait for him. Really, it was an incredible honor that such a high-ranking mind healer was handling his case personally.

“Is there a marked improvement in the state of your bond?” Master Idhron said, his eyes so emotionless it was a little disturbing. Although Jamil had been called emotionless in the past, this was emotional repression on a whole new level.

“I think so, Your Grace,” Jamil said, suppressing his nervousness. While it was true that the headaches from his torn bond had abated recently—ever since he’d started merging with Rohan—he didn’t know if Master Idhron would find his sudden improvement strange. He also wasn’t sure he would be able to hide his memories of Rohan if the mind adept got suspicious and decided to actually look for them.

“Let me see,” Master Idhron said, gesturing for him to kneel in front of him.

Jamil almost grimaced. He didn’t understand why kneeling was necessary. Master Idhron was a tall man, as tall as him. Jamil would suspect that the mind adept secretly enjoyed feeling superior, except he was pretty sure this man couldn’t feel a thing.

But he did kneel in front of the monk, and Master Idhron pushed Jamil’s cravat down a little to reach his telepathic point—and went still.

Jamil’s eyes widened in horror as he realized that he still hadn’t found time to use a dermal regenerator. Trying not to panic, he breathed deeply and dropped his gaze. Widowers weren’t supposed to live like monks. Although people didn’t speak about it in politepany, it was widely known that many widowed people slept around—with other widowers or outworlders. So what if the Grandmaster thought he was loose? It didn’t matter, as long as he didn’t guess the truth. Master Idhron didn’t strike Jamil as someone who would gossip about the few hickeys on Jamil’s neck.

“Drop your shields, Your Highness,” Master Idhron said evenly, as if nothing had happened.

Jamil swallowed and did as he was told.

The mind adept’s mental probing was different from a telepathic merge. It wasn’t as intimate, but it was as invasive. If Jamil had topare two experiences, this was the equivalent of a rectal examination by a physician as opposed to the intimacy of prative sex.

To Jamil’s relief, it was over pretty soon.

When Master Idhron pulled out of his mind, he was frowning slightly. “Your bond to your deceased bondmate is weaker now,” he said. “How peculiar.”

Jamil’s stomach dropped. “Isn’t it normal? You told me it would get better with time.”

Master Idhron stared at him impassively. “No. Normally the torn bonds do not weaken after the death of one’s spouse. After a while, the raw edges scar over and hurt less, but the bond itself does not weaken. Yours has.”

Swallowing, Jamil said, “It’s not a problem, is it?”

The High Adept eyed him, but before he could say anything, the door opened and an unfamiliar male voice said, “Master, are you done? Can we go already?”

Idhron’s gaze snapped to the neer. His lips pursed slightly, his eyes flashing with some emotion Jamil couldn’t identify. But it was an actual emotion. “I told you to wait for me outside, Eridan.”

Jamil got to his feet and turned around, just in time to see the young man pout. As in, an actual pout, with pouted lips and sad eyes. They were beautiful eyes, too, large and violet, on a beautiful young face, with a halo of dark golden hair framing it.

“My apologies for my apprentice, Your Highness,” Master Idhron said, shooting the young man an unimpressed look. “Where are your manners, Eridan?”

“Oh!” The young man gave Jamil a sheepish smile, his lovely face flushing. He bowed gracefully to Jamil. “Health and tranquility, Your Highness.”

“You are Master Idhron’s apprentice?” Jamil said, incredibly surprised. He’d known that senior mind adepts of the High Hronthar had apprentices that they taught personally, but he’d never thought that the perfect, emotionless Grandmaster of the Order would have such an emotional apprentice. This kid didn’t look like a stoic monk at all.

Eridan flashed him a crooked grin. “I am, and I’m the bane of his existence. You’re even more stunning in person, Your Highness.”

Jamil blinked.

“Eridan,” Master Idhron snapped. “Wait for me outside.”

Eridan rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master,” he said, obediently enough. “But hurry up, would you? I’m bored. You know that me and boredom are never a goodbination.”

As the door shut after him, Jamil looked at Master Idhron with new eyes. He couldn’t imagine this man actually choosing that emotional mess of a boy as his apprentice.

“I apologize for my apprentice,” Idhron said tersely. “He’s still learning. As for your bond, if it doesn’t keep deteriorating, I do not foresee a problem. Your mind is healing. I do not think it is still necessary for me to monitor your bond. But if you noticeplications, you can alwayse to the High Hronthar for assistance.”

Jamil nodded and watched the monk leave.

Only when the door closed after him did he let himself relax. He was reasonably sure the High Adept hadn’t noticed anything amiss—anything other than his weakened bond.

Jamil refused to think about why it could be weakened.

Guilt filled his chest as his gaze landed on the small portrait of Mehmer on his desk. He’d barely thought about Mehmer over the past few days.

Jamil picked up the portrait and stared at his husband’s dear face, grief washing over him.

Somewhat relieved, he set the portrait down. He still loved his husband. He hadn’t betrayed him. His perverse mentalpatibility with Rohan di’Lehr had changed nothing. He didn’t have to think about Mehmer all the time to love him—that would be obsession, not love.

So you admit you’re obsessed with Rohan?

Scowling, Jamil pushed the thought away. He needed toe up with a good reason to go to the Fifth Royal Palace. The sooner he got to the bottom of it, the sooner he would be rid of Rohan’s invasive presence in his life—which was what he wanted.

It was.