Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
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Despite the late hour, Eridan and his Master still encountered a lot of people in the corridors of the monastery, Masters and apprentices alike. Wherever they went, they attracted looks, for different reasons. Eridan smiled crookedly to himself. He was rather infamous for his “outrageous” behavior as an initiate, while his Master was easily the most respected mind adept in the Order: admired and feared in equal measure. Eridan knew his age-mates envied him. His Master was the youngest Master in the Order’s history, the youngest Master to have a seat on the Chapter. Although most members of the Order didn’t know that Castien was a Class 7 telepath, everyone knew he was one of the most powerful. Castien was incredibly powerful, intelligent, and influential. Every initiate wanted to study under Master Idhron.
But he was just his, Eridan’s.
Flushing, Eridan reinforced his mental shields, hoping to hide his possessive thoughts from his Master. He had long given up trying to get rid of them.
They finally reached the nearest t-chamber and got into it. Castien put his hand on the control panel and said, “Hangar bay 14.”
The transportation room started moving, jumping through the teleport channels.
Eridan tried again. “Master, I—”
“Not now.”
Pursing his lips, Eridan hung his head.
At last, they arrived and stepped out of the t-chamber into the hangar bay. He followed his Master to his aircraft and climbed into the seat next to him. Castien entered his access codes and the hatch overhead opened, revealing the darkening sky.
Castien lifted the aircraft into the clearing in the forest.
Eridan breathed deeply in the clean, moist air, the mountains looming over them menacingly. He quickly did some calculations and estimated that the travel from this hangar bay to Hronthar would take at least half an hour. The magnetic field around Hronthar might be incredibly useful to mask its location, but it was also a pain in the ass, forcing them to use aircraft to travel there.
Eridan winced a little. The long ride was going to be terribly uncomfortable if his Master continued ignoring him.
“Was it really necessary?” Castien said, setting course for the town.
Eridan breathed out. At least he was talking to him. “Well, you know me, Master,” he said in a light tone. “I can’t help myself when people say stupid shit.”
Castien continued to look straight ahead, even though it wasn’t actually necessary now that the autopilot was on. His expression was a little tight. “Tethru is right. I am too lenient with you.”
“That prick deserved it. Didn’t you teach me that an insult should never go unpunished or they’ll start thinking I’m weak?”
“Brute force isn’t the answer, Eridan. All you managed to prove was that your emotions still rule you.”
“Can we not do this?” Eridan said with a sigh. “You have been gone for thirty-nine days.” He added softly, “I missed you, Master.”
Castien’s jaw tightened. He still wouldn’t look at Eridan.
Eridan folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. He didn’t exactly regret saying it—he wasn’t ashamed of his emotions—but his Master’s strange reaction to his words always confused him. Castien didn’t tolerate displays of affection and never was one to engage in them. Although he had expressed his disapproval numerous times, he hadn’t actually forbidden Eridan from expressing his affection. He could have, but he hadn’t. It was rather baffling, this strange middle ground.
“How was your trip?” Eridan said when the silence stretched.
A barely noticeable frown appeared on his Master’s face. “Eventful,” he replied. “The reports have been confirmed.”
Eridan looked at him in surprise. “You mean Tai’Lehr really wants to come clean to the Council?”
Castien gave a clipped nod. “It is troubling.”
That was an understatement. If the Tai’Lehrians came forward as the renegades that had once fled their grand clans after refusing to conform to the Bonding Law, and the Council of Twelve Grand Clans forgave them their transgressions, it would most likely draw unwanted scrutiny to the Order. As far as the rest of the Calluvians were concerned, the Bonding Law was introduced to protect them. But the renegades knew the truth: that the Bonding Law was introduced to give the High Hronthar ultimate power over the planet, since its members were the only telepaths on the planet not bound by it. If the Council discovered that the Order was not actually an apolitical organization of mind healers…
Eridan frowned. “What are you planning to do?”
“There will be a meeting of the Chapter in the morning,” Castien replied. “The Chapter will decide how to handle the issue, not me.”
Eridan snorted. “Please, Master. Let’s not pretend the Chapter doesn’t listen to anything you suggest.”
“I am not the Grandmaster. Tethru is.”
Eridan’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Did you know about the Tai’Lehrians? Is that why you didn’t want to be the Grandmaster when Kato died? So that Tethru takes the fall if the worst comes to the worst?”
Castien’s face was inscrutable. But he didn’t deny it, so Eridan took it as confirmation. He shook his head to himself, marveling at how his Master was always two steps ahead of everyone. It was a quality that had always annoyed Eridan a little. He always felt terribly transparent, while it was incredibly difficult to get a read on his Master.
“But how did you know about it before everyone else?” Eridan said. “We hadn’t yet gotten those reports about Tai’Lehr when Grandmaster Kato died.”
Although Castien’s face remained unreadable, some emotion flared in their bond, too quickly for Eridan to recognize it. “I have my own sources.”
Eridan shot him an exasperated look. “Don’t you trust me, Master?”
Castien’s posture was very straight, his eyes fixed on the mountains. “As much as I trust anyone,” he said.
Eridan pouted.
“Stop putting on that face,” Castien said.
“You aren’t even looking at me, Master. How do you know what face I’m putting on?”
Castien didn’t deign to reply.
Eridan scowled, his fingers playing with his thaal absent-mindedly. He had learned to navigate other telepaths’ minds without the grounding help of his thaal a while ago; the gemstone was more of a comfort thing at this point. Sometimes, when Castien was particularly distant and their bond was too quiet, Eridan just needed a reminder that his Master had chosen him, chosen him out of hundreds of initiates.
But did that really mean anything?
***
Eridan’s mood lifted a little when they arrived at his Master’s mansion. He followed Castien into the house, immediately at ease in the familiar surroundings.
This was home. Or at least the closest thing to a home Eridan had ever had. Well, it was likely he’d had a real home before he’d been given away to the Order, but his memories of his early childhood were nearly nonexistent. Eridan thought he remembered a beautiful woman with golden hair, who kissed him goodnight and called him “my little angel.” He also thought he remembered an older boy, a brother, but memories of him were even more confusing.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. Those people had given him up. The Order was the only home he had ever had.
Not the Order, his inner voice corrected him snidely. Your Master.
Pushing the uncomfortable thought out of his mind, Eridan looked around the living room. He hadn’t been here in over a month. Castien lately insisted that when he was away, Eridan should stay in the house Castien had bought for him in the Apprentices’ district, but Eridan still couldn’t think of that house as home. Granted, it probably didn’t help that he barely spent any time there, preferring his Master’s mansion. To his surprise, Castien didn’t seem to object to his presence, only ordering Eridan to go to his own house in his absence.
Eridan wandered out onto the terrace. He tried not to look down. He wasn’t very good with heights, and the cliff the house was imbed
ded in was almost a straight-up, rock wall tarsecs high. The view was awe-inspiring, the setting sun coloring the clouds and the sea golden and pink. Eridan knew it was the best view in Hronthar, his Master’s house the only one besides the castle that offered such a view. He suddenly wondered how much this mansion had cost Castien. That said, Eridan doubted the beautiful view was the reason his Master had acquired it: owning the best house in District Four was likely a power play of some sort.
Eridan smiled softly, thinking about how the rest of the world viewed mind adepts of the Order. Everyone thought the “monks” lived in austere conditions and didn’t care for material things or power. Granted, it was the way of thinking that was carefully cultivated by the Order, but it was still amusing how clueless the rest of the planet was. Castien alone owned numerous estates and companies on and off Calluvia, and he knew other Masters did, too.
“Tell me why you lost control of yourself,” Castien said, coming to stand next to him. He looked not at the sun disappearing into the horizon, but at the water far below them. His Master wasn’t afraid of heights—he wasn’t afraid of anything, as far as Eridan was aware. He was so damn perfect. Perfectly in control. Sometimes it made Eridan want to scream and do something ridiculous, just to see that icy composure shatter.
Eridan pursed his lips, hating that Castien still wouldn’t look at him. They had been apart for more than a month. Surely he deserved one look.
“There’s nothing to explain,” he said sullenly. “Salah was a dick.”
“Language.”
Rolling his eyes, Eridan stepped closer to his Master. “I don’t want to talk about Salah when I just got you back.” He leaned his shoulder against his Master’s, enjoying how solid it felt and breathing in his familiar scent. I missed you. He didn’t dare say it aloud again.
Eridan glared at the sky, suddenly feeling a little bit pathetic. What if Salah was right and he really was delusional? What if his Master didn’t care about him at all?
He pulled away and leaned against the railing, looking into the horizon. “Grandmaster said he might reassign me to another Master.”
He felt Castien stiffen. “What?” he said sharply.
Eridan studied him, a little surprised by such a visible reaction. Normally, his Master was very difficult to read, even for him—and they had shared a telepathic bond for years.
Eridan shrugged, watching Castien’s profile carefully, hope stirring in his heart. Did his Master care after all?
“He said he might take me on as his apprentice himself.”
Castien’s face was like stone as he ground out, “I didn’t waste years on teaching you to give you to someone else.”
Oh.
Eridan deflated. He looked away, fighting the sudden tightness in his throat. He didn’t know why he felt like this. Castien had never lied to him about this. He had never pretended to care for him. He had always been clear that he was incapable of deep emotions.
“I was away for less than two months, but of course you managed to get in trouble,” Castien said, a touch of irritation lacing his words. “Have I not told you to stay away from Tethru?”
“But I’m twenty,” Eridan said. “Surely too old.”
“You will be too old for him when you start looking old enough. Tethru does not care for your biological age.” Castien sighed. “I have been keeping you away from him for a reason, Eridan. Once he sets his sights on someone, he fixates. He obsesses. The fact that you are mine—my apprentice—will only make you more desirable for him. You would be a prized trophy for him.”
“But what can he do?” Eridan said, frowning. “Can he actually take me from you?”
Castien was quiet.
His gaze on the water below, he said, “I do not know.”
Eridan stared. He had never heard his Master admitting that he didn’t know something. Never.
“There are provisions for reassigning apprentices that he can use. It happens very rarely, but there are precedents.”
“But would he really bother to go through all the hassle?” Eridan said, still skeptical. “I mean, there are plenty of young unclaimed initiates he can get his creepy hands on much easier.” He cringed—he hadn’t meant to make it sound that way—but it was the truth, nonetheless. Eridan was far more protected than the hundreds of unclaimed initiates, and he didn’t flatter himself by thinking he was all that special.
A cold smile touched Castien’s lips. “Of course there are. But he will want mine. It is a power play, Eridan. Tethru’s power is not as absolute as he would like. He does not have a fraction of the respect Grandmaster Kato commanded. If he can take my apprentice for himself, that would certainly make the Chapter respect his authority more.”
Eridan pulled a face. Of course. It always was some power play. In the years as Castien’s apprentice, he had learned that the Chapter was pretty much a pit of poisonous snakes, all determined to seize more power and backstab each other. Though, maybe he was being unfair. There were a few decent Masters among the Chapter members, maybe even more than a few. The problem was, it was hard to tell if there were decent people behind those cold, formidable facades.
“I still think you’re being paranoid, Master,” Eridan said as the sun finally disappeared into the horizon. The twin moons were already visible against the darkening sky. “I’m sure Tethru has more important things to do thanks to the situation on Tai’Lehr.”
Castien hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps. And perhaps it will only make him more fixated on the idea. There is little we can do about Tai’Lehr besides planting seeds of distrust toward the rebels, but those things would be delegated to lesser Masters. Tethru will want a distraction, and you just might be one.”
Eridan made a skeptical sound, unconvinced.
He felt Castien’s gaze on him, at last.
Turning his head, Eridan found his Master watching him with a strange, intense expression.
Castien lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over Eridan’s cheek.
Eridan shivered and held himself very still, stunned. It was so rare for his Master to touch him voluntarily instead of simply tolerating his affections.
Eridan licked his dry lips. His skin felt prickly, too tight. “Master?”
“You should grow a beard,” Castien said, with faint irritation in his voice.
“A beard?” he repeated blankly, looking into Castien’s eyes. The blue of them seemed so dark at the moment they looked almost black.
“Yes.” Castien brushed Eridan’s jawline with his thumb, a displeased twist to his lips. “You do not even have stubble. Your face is still disgustingly pretty and boyish. No wonder Tethru wants you.”
Eridan scoffed, trying not to lean into the touch like some touch-starved animal. “Well, I’m sorry, Master, for having the audacity to be born with my face.”
“Don’t give me attitude, Eridan,” Castien said, his eyes flashing.
Eridan dropped his gaze. Although his Master wasn’t easily angered and was surprisingly tolerant of his attitude, sometimes his patience was worn thin and his displeasure could be very unpleasant.
“You know I’m right, Master,” he said in a more neutral tone of voice. “I can’t help it. I’m a throwback, remember?” He wasn’t exaggerating: throwbacks were physiologically different from the rest of Calluvians. Most throwbacks had softer, more refined features, and were usually incapable of growing any facial hair. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t look his age.
“Yes, a throwback,” Castien said, as if he were tasting something foul. “Which undoubtedly only feeds Tethru’s fascination. He likes them.”
Eridan glared at him. “I’m not sure what’s worse: people who fetishize us or people who find us disgusting.”
A wry smile touched Castien’s lips. “I am not disgusted with you, Eridan. I am many things about you, most of them not nice, but disgusted is not one of them.”
Eridan blinked, unsure how to take it.
As always, when he felt confused, he found him
self in need of reassurance.
Tell me you care. I need you to tell me you care. I need you to care. I need you.
He leaned into his Master’s hand, rubbing his cheek against it.
Castien allowed it, staring at him with an unreadable, fixated look in his eyes.
“I missed you, Master,” Eridan murmured, his eyelids becoming heavy from the rush of endorphins.
“You should make friends your age,” Castien said in a clipped voice. “You are touch-starved.”
“You don’t have any friends, either,” Eridan said.
“I do not need them. But you are not me.” Castien’s finger brushed against his telepathic point, and a whine slipped out of Eridan’s mouth, his telepathic core pulsing with need.
Fuck, it had been too long.
“Please,” he whispered, meeting his Master’s gaze. “Just a short one?”
A muscle twitched in Castien’s jaw. “You always say that, but it’s never a ‘short one.’ You are addicted, Eridan.”
He shook his head with a faint smile. “I’m not. If I were addicted to the merge, I would have been a wreck after a month and a half away from you. But I was fine, Master.” That was a bit of a lie—he had been very far from fine—but he wasn’t a wreck, either. Eridan was sure he was getting a little better at controlling himself when it came to having his Master’s mind inside his.
Or at least, he wasn’t getting worse. Having Castien inside him was just his favorite thing in the world. He never felt more connected to his Master than when Castien was touching his telepathic core. It was the only thing that made him feel like Castien really cared for him. And although Eridan knew Castien still held back, keeping some of his shields, it was still the closest thing to honesty and affection Castien allowed.