“We aren’t extracting anything from Odelm,” V’dim defended the musician. “Look at him. He wouldn’t be able to handle it!”
“Then calm him down, because we need answers, and he was the only one who was with her.”
V’dim nodded, knowing that Z’fir would pick up his acceptance.
He sat down next to the forlorn male, offering him his hands. If he was going to comfort his brother, contact was the best way of doing so.
Odelm flicked his pale-green gaze toward him and sucked in a quick breath as a shiver passed through him.
"It's all my fault," he murmured, his voice almost inaudible above the infirmary's noise.
"What happened?"
Odelm grabbed V'dim, wrapping his arms around him as he buried his head into his prince's shoulder.
Circuli were biologically incapable of crying, which made the concept hard for V’dim to understand, but at that moment, he wished he could. The amount of distorted sadness radiating from his nestqueen's unofficial Second stunned V'dim into silence.
In his entire military career, V’dim had never been sought out for comfort. He had experienced many deaths, felt each soldier severed from his crew's mental web, but a leader could never allow the loss of a mental strand to affect him. If he did, his distress would spill over to the others within their web, potentially costing the lives of more warriors by distracting them mid-battle.
This was why it was so difficult for him to allow himself to feel.
Growing up bonded to Z’fir as a brother had only strengthened his mental shields, allowing him to hide from the influence of his peers. When Prince Zirene had requested they join him in the war front, Z’fir and V’dim had asked to leave their mother’s presence and lead the Circuli fleet.
The first losses in the war only hardened their resolve. As most of their bonded crew died one by one, their mental threads became so brittle; they could barely hold on until they were able to return to Circul. Most surviving warriors had been able to rekindle their connection with their nestqueen, strengthening their mental health and recovering from their body’s weakened state. Those who’d been too far gone slowly disintegrated into madness.
That was a life lesson that had forever changed him.
And now, here in his arms was his nestqueen’s Second, the most fragile Circuli he had ever come across in his lifetime.
Nestqueens among the Circuli had to be strong enough to lead the clans, communities, and kingdom. He and Z’fir were never supposed to lead, but their royal bloodline and unique bond made them stronger than all the males and most of the females within their species.
When Selena had accepted them as a pair into her clan, to save their crew from being recalled to Circul in disgrace, she had lifted a significant burden from their shoulders. Even though they’d initially planned to ask Prince Zirene’s Aldawi scientists to find a suitable planet within his territory, the troubles they might have faced building a colony from the ground up would have been demoralizing, especially with the nestqueens aboard the Destiny unable to cycle.
He and his brother would’ve had to bond with separate nestqueens to increase their chances of siring an heir. The colony needed a princess to take over their rule once she reached maturity and they were comfortable with retiring.
But that was in the past, along with all the old possibilities and what-ifs that had plagued their minds while they tried to do right by their people.
With Selena as their nestqueen, they were able to step back and lead only when needed, but more importantly, they weren't alone. Selena's clan provided the support they’d always craved—and needed. Her mental shields protected them from most of Destima’s Circuli community’s chatter, muting it to a constant low hum in the back of their minds, easy to ignore.
Holding his anguished nestbrother in his arms caused him to spiral deeper into his own despair. What could have happened to Selena to render the musician so inconsolable?
“Tell me, Odelm, what happened to our nestqueen?” V’dim said in soothing tones, sending pulses of calm through his fingertips. “Everything felt fine through our clan’s connections up until a few moments ago. How did she fall unconscious?”
Odelm sucked in a breath, his fingers slowly loosening their grip.
“We were—I was—” Odelm croaked, shaking his head. “I was performing a song I dedicated to her. I wanted to tell her how I felt through my music, and everything between us felt...” He pulled away and stared directly into V’dim’s eyes. “I connected to her during my performance, allowed myself to direct her emotions, and echoed hers with mine. We danced like lovers do in the heat of passion, riding each other’s bliss, until I realized what we . . . what I was doing. From that moment on, I smoothly transitioned into the original piece I’d arranged for her on the Destiny and withdrew my control on her emotions, and she just . . . fell.”
The horror reflected in the musician's pale-green eyes told him everything he needed to know. Somehow, Odelm felt responsible for Selena’s condition, even though V’dim wasn’t sure he’d had anything to do with it.
“When did you notice she wasn’t there with you?”
“I had closed myself off from her—from everyone—to prevent any outside forces from interfering with the originality of the song,” Odelm murmured, flicking his gaze toward the medical staff members surrounding Selena. “I felt it was important to keep the song in its purest form, for if I felt her reactions, I may have unintentionally altered the melody, falling into a trap of my own making.” He gripped V’dim’s shoulders, shaking his head aimlessly as he continued, “You don’t understand how addicting our nestqueen’s mind can be. I could bathe in her thoughts all day, getting lost in her aura as I float in our pool . . . or play one of my instruments...” he trailed
