Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
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“It is not a merge,” Castien grated out, shooting him an irritated look. “What we do… is simply a deeper telepathic contact than mental probing. That is all.”
Eridan rolled his eyes with a smile. “Whatever you say, Master.” As long as he got his Master inside him, he didn’t care what Castien called it.
“Insolent brat,” Castien said, but his thumb was already pressing against Eridan’s telepathic point.
Push, and his Master was finally inside him, slipping into him with practiced ease. Eridan moaned, his hand grasping his Master’s dark tunic to keep himself on his feet. It felt incredible after so long apart, Castien’s mental touch soothing every ache inside him, the loneliness that ate him from the inside. Castien’s shields weren’t as impenetrable as they usually were, and Eridan could feel flashes of his emotions: relief mixed with greed, dark and possessive. There was the sense of finally, as if his Master was as thirsty for this as him, and Eridan felt a rush of euphoria at the thought, his body shuddering in pleasure. His knees were too weak to hold him up and he sagged against his Master, tucking his face in the hollow of his throat as Castien slipped deeper and deeper inside him. Eridan whined as Castien stroked his pulsing, hungry core, again and again. The tension in him was building, his nerves coiling with each measured stroke.
“Master,” he cried out as the pleasure finally reached its peak, sending ripples of ecstasy through his mind and his body.
Dazedly, he rode it out, and tried not to whine in disappointment when Castien pulled out, leaving him empty.
His Master pushed him away, not roughly but firmly enough.
When Eridan managed to focus his gaze on Castien’s face, it was mostly unreadable.
“Was that satisfactory?” Castien said sardonically.
Blushing, Eridan gave him a beaming smile and darted forward to brush his lips against Castien’s stubbled cheek. “Thank you. You are the best Master ever.”
Castien had a rather tight expression on his face when he pulled back. “Good night, Eridan,” he said, before striding away and disappearing into the house.
Eridan stood on the terrace for a long time, breathing in the night air and trying to calm his racing heart.
Castien had never been so deep inside him.
Eridan had loved it.
But he wanted more.
Chapter Seven: The Chapter
The sessions of the Chapter were usually closed affairs, even to the Masters’ apprentices. Eridan could count the number of times he had attended a meeting on the fingers of one hand.
That was why he was so surprised when the next morning his Master told him that he was to accompany him to the Chapter’s emergency meeting.
At first, Eridan had felt a little weird around his Master after last night, but when Castien didn’t treat him any differently during breakfast, projecting calm detachment while he read news on his multi-device, Eridan found himself relaxing. His Master’s calm tended to settle his nerves, and this time was no exception. Nothing had happened. Clearly he had imagined how intimate the whole thing was. There was no use fixating on it.
“Are you sure you want me there, Master?” Eridan said as they stepped out of the t-chamber into High Hronthar’s vast hallway.
Castien gave a clipped nod and strode toward the meeting chamber, with Eridan walking half a step behind him.
Eridan sighed. “You know I hate the Chapter meetings. They’re boring and last forever.”
“Which is why you need to get used to them if you want to become a Senior Master one day.”
“Why would I want it?” Eridan said, scrunching up his nose.
The look Castien shot him was heavy with disapproval. “Your lack of ambition is unacceptable. Regardless, you should learn more about how the Chapter operates.”
Eridan chuckled. “Admit it: it’s my punishment for choking Salah.”
“It is not a punishment. It is a privilege.”
“Privilege, my ass,” Eridan muttered under his breath. “I’d take cleaning toilets in the Initiates’ Hall over listening to the mind-numbing stuff you all discuss.”
An hour later, Eridan had to admit he had been wrong about this Chapter meeting being boring. It was anything but.
The news Castien had brought from Tai’Lehr caused an uproar among the Chapter and provoked a rather heated debate about what should be done to protect High Hronthar if Tai’Lehrians really came forward as the renegades that had once left their grand clans.
Eridan had to admit it was rather amusing to watch Senior Masters lose their cool, and seemingly unflappable, facades. He could sense that some Masters felt very uneasy, almost scared, and he suspected those would be the first to flee to one of their numerous off-world properties if the Calluvian Council were to discover what the High Hronthar really was. He made note of those Masters, knowing that Castien would later drill him with questions about what he had learned during the meeting.
A hand in his hair made Eridan go still. Glancing up at his Master, he found Castien watching the discussion carefully, his fingers threading through Eridan’s hair in an absent-minded manner.
Eridan dropped his gaze to his folded knees, trying not to lean into the touch too much. He hoped no one noticed where his Master’s hand was. A quick glance around assured him that everyone was too worried to care. He relaxed and let himself enjoy Castien’s extremely rare public display of affection.
Though it wasn’t necessarily a display of affection. Perhaps his Master simply wasn’t aware of what he was doing. Sometimes Eridan thought his Master regarded him as an amusing pet—his pet. Considering that Eridan was sitting on the floor at his Master’s feet, the comparison probably wasn’t all that far-fetched. Eridan knew he probably should mind more. If he were forced to sit at anyone else’s feet, it would have rubbed him the wrong way. His pride wouldn’t allow it. But kneeling for Castien was something he had gotten used to over the years. Truth be told, he found… strange comfort in it. When he was kneeling, he was his Master’s. He had no agency, didn’t have to do anything Castien didn’t tell him. It felt oddly good.
The hand in his hair stopped moving, and Eridan almost made a disappointed sound. Frowning, he focused on what had his Master’s attention.
The debate seemed to have settled. Grandmaster Tethru was speaking. “…We need something that would remind the rest of Calluvia that the rebels are criminals. A high-profile crime that would get them arrested immediately if the Tai’Lehrians were to approach the Council. A murder.”
A ripple of murmurs met his statement.
Beside him, Castien was quiet.
“Who do you suggest?” Master Amara said, her sharp eyes narrowed on Tethru.
“Tai’Lehr is technically still the Third Grand Clan’s colony. I think disposing of Crown Prince Jamil’ngh’veighli and framing the rebels would be the perfect solution,” Tethru said. “That would be a huge blow to the Third Royal House, since Prince Jamil does not have an heir yet. It also has the added benefit of alienating Queen Janesh: she would never support people who are behind her son’s death.”
“I like it,” Master Zaid said, his gray eyes gleaming with malice. Eridan shivered and leaned closer to his Master. He had always found Master Zaid more than a little disturbing.
Eridan looked around and, to his unease, he found that most Masters were agreeing with Tethru, too. It made him feel a little bit sick. How could they just decide to take someone’s life in cold blood? He had never liked the Chapter much, but now he knew he would never want to be part of it, no matter how prestigious it was.
“Master, you have to do something,” he murmured, just for Castien’s ears.
Castien sighed. “You need to get over your squeamishness, Eridan. Your bleeding heart is going to be your downfall one day.”
Eridan met his eyes. “Please, Master,” he said, taking Castien’s hand and pressing his mouth against it.
Castien’s lips thinned. He just stared at Eridan for a long moment.
/> At last, he said quietly, “If you can give me a good, rational reason why I should stop them, I might indulge you.”
Eridan shot him an exasperated look. Everything was always a test with his Master. Luckily, after years of apprenticeship under Castien, he was used to it.
He frowned, his mind racing. “Killing the heir to the throne is unnecessary,” he said. “And needlessly risky. Why not simply make it look like he was killed? Disintegrating his vehicle would work just as well. There could be other opportunities he could be used for if he is kept alive.”
“Such as?” Castien said, his face inscrutable.
Eridan hummed in thought, nuzzling into his Master’s hand absent-mindedly. “His security clearance, for one thing. His familial bond to the Queen would also give you a key into Queen Janesh’s mind, make her more easily influenced.”
“Passable,” Castien said. When Eridan smiled at him, his Master murmured, “But you will work on not allowing your emotions to affect your judgment, Eridan.”
“Of course, Master,” Eridan said innocently.
Shooting him a somewhat exasperated look, Castien removed his hand and turned his attention toward his fellow Chapter members.
“Let us not be hasty,” he said.
He had raised his voice just a little, but it seemed enough for all conversations to cease and everyone’s attention to turn toward him.
Eridan dropped his gaze, trying to look like a quiet, obedient apprentice. He could feel someone’s stare on him, and he reached out with his senses a little. He suppressed a grimace as he realized it was Grandmaster Tethru.
“What do you mean, Master Idhron?” someone asked. Eridan didn’t recognize his voice.
Castien said, “Master Asai reported to me this morning that Prince Jamil’s husband, Prince-Consort Mehmer, came to her, complaining about his abnormally heightened senses and telepathy when he is away from his husband. He was concerned that there was something wrong with his marriage bond.”
A murmur went through the Masters.
“Why is Master Asai reporting this to you and not to me?” Tethru said sharply.
Meeting his gaze, Castien shrugged. “I wondered the same thing, Grandmaster,” he said mildly.
Tethru’s face reddened.
Eridan bit his lip hard to stop himself from smiling.
Master Amara leaned forward. “I do not think it is relevant why Master Asai reported to Castien,” she said, frowning deeply. “Are you saying Prince-Consort Mehmer’s marriage bond is becoming faulty, Castien? If so, how is that relevant to the subject? Why has she not simply fixed the problem instead of reporting it to you?”
“She has,” Castien said. “Or rather, she has tried. But the problem became worse. His bond is weakening, and fast. It could not be fixed, no matter what she did, and he is becoming suspicious of her and the High Hronthar in general.”
This time the murmurs were louder. Eridan could acutely feel the unease of the Masters and had to tighten his shields.
“Prince-Consort Mehmer is a throwback, if I remember correctly,” Master Zaid drawled, sneering slightly. “It is not unusual for them to be faulty in some way.”
Eridan’s hands curled into fists, and he had to hide them in the folds of his robe.
At least Master Amara didn’t seem impressed with Zaid’s comment, either. She shot him a withering look, her gray eyebrows furrowed. “It is true that throwbacks have the highest rate of bond failure, but it has nothing to do with them being faulty,” she said. “And everything to do with them being naturally predisposed to having one mate of their own choice. Artificial bonds are unnatural for them.”
“Indeed,” Castien said. “In any case, the cause is irrelevant. The prince-consort should be dealt with, and soon.”
“Very well,” Tethru said, raising his voice, clearly wanting to remind everyone who was the Grandmaster.
Eridan nearly rolled his eyes. How fragile was Tethru’s ego?
Tethru wasn’t even bothering to hide his dislike as he looked at Castien. “We can switch the prince-consort with his husband in my plan. That does not make much of a difference.”
“While your solution is ingenious,” Castien said flatly, “it requires some amendments. Your plan is generally sound—there is no better way to pit the Calluvian Council against the rebels than the rebels’ apparent murder of one of the royals—but it is not foolproof, Master.”
A muscle twitched in Tethru’s jaw, anger rolling off him. “Please enlighten me as to why, Castien,” he bit out.
Castien looked at him neutrally, his calm like a mockery of Tethru’s lack of composure. Eridan had to admit he absolutely loved watching his Master reduce that self-important dick to a clown. Maybe he should attend more sessions of the Chapter if they all were so entertaining.
“Every plan has a chance to fail,” Castien said, his voice quiet. “Your plan assumes that the Tai’Lehrians would either decide against revealing themselves to the Calluvian Council or would be unable to prove that they had nothing to do with the murder of the royal. But what if they do? What if they convince someone high-ranking enough in the Council to listen to them? What if they are given a fair trial? The Ministry of Intergalactic Affairs has Dalvars in their employ, a species that can detect if someone is lying. What if they are used to question the Tai’Lehrians? Your whole plan will fall apart if the Tai’Lehrians testify that they had nothing to do with Prince-Consort Mehmer’s death, which would eventually lead to the Council suspecting us.”
The chamber was dead silent, the Masters’ alarm apparent. Eridan didn’t even need to stretch his senses to feel it.
“What are you suggesting then, Idhron?” Tethru bit off.
“A contingency plan. There is one person whose testimony would take precedence over the Tai’Lehrians’ if they were to be questioned by the Dalvars: the supposed victim’s.” Castien waited until the murmurs quieted down before speaking again. “If Prince-Consort Mehmer testifies that Tai’Lehrians had him kidnapped and tortured for information, and that he barely escaped with his life, no one would listen to a word the Tai’Lehrians say.”
“But it would require a full personality wipe to fool the Dalvars,” Master Amara said, frowning. “There are no wipers in the Order anymore. Well, there is an initiate that has that talent, but she is too young and untrained to be much of a help now. Right now her talent is too erratic.”
Eridan winced. He had heard of her. Everyone in the Order had heard of her. Telepaths with the wiper talent were incredibly rare, so of course the girl was something of a curiosity now.
“Can’t Castien brute-force a wipe?” Master Zaid said idly, as if he were talking about the weather rather than discussing what was an equivalent of the most brutal mind-rape one could possibly imagine. “He’s a Seven, after all.”
Eridan glared at him, his annoyance mounting.
“Castien might be a Class 7 telepath, but he is no wiper,” Tethru snapped. “Theoretically, he might be able to do it, but it would take a lot of time and his work likely wouldn’t be as flawless as that of a wiper. The Dalvars are not easily fooled.”
For the first time ever, Eridan approved of Tethru’s intervention. What Master Zaid was suggesting was gross, even by the dubious standards of the Order. It was true that high-level telepaths could brute-force pretty much anything that telepaths with particular talents could do, but it would be crude work, clumsy and extremely painful.
“I agree, Grandmaster,” Castien said. “While I could do it if I were so inclined, I have little time for that. In any case, that is not necessary. There is a wiper whose services we can use.”
Silence fell over the room.
“If you mean Master Sylas, he is no longer part of the Order,” Tethru said, his discomfort obvious. “He left.”
Castien raised his eyebrows. “You know as well as I do that one does not leave the Order.”
Nobody spoke; an eerie unease filled the room.
Eridan shivered, no longer w
ondering if his Master had noticed the treacherous thoughts some Masters had been entertaining. Of course Castien had noticed. He rarely missed anything.
Tethru cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, my point remains: Master Sylas might be part of the Order technically, but he has long stopped coming here and ceased all communications with us. He has made it clear that he does not want to be part of this organization anymore.”
“Sylas owes me a favor,” Castien said. “He will do it.”
Eridan wondered about it while the Masters discussed the technicalities of the plan. He had never met Master Sylas. He had left the Chapter—and the Order—before Eridan became Castien’s apprentice. He had heard of him, though, and each rumor was wilder than the last. He wondered what kind of a favor Sylas owed Castien. It must have been something huge, because Master Sylas had moved to another planet and effectively cut all his ties to the Order—or so everyone had thought.
When the meeting finally ended, Eridan followed Castien out of the room, deep in thought. At times like this, it became painfully obvious how little he actually knew about his Master’s past.
“Are you not pleased?” Castien said when they returned home.
Eridan scoffed. “What should I be pleased about? Brainwashing someone is hardly better than killing.”
“Brainwashing can be fixed. Death cannot be. Therefore, stop sulking, Eridan. You got what you wanted.”
Eridan laughed. “Please, Master. You hardly intervened for my sake.”
Castien’s eyes smiled. “I am proud you are no longer as naive as you used to be.”
Eridan grinned at him. “Well, you were bound to rub off on me at some point, Master.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Castien said, looking away.
Eridan simply gazed at his stern, handsome profile for a moment before murmuring, “Why did you take me with you to the Chapter meeting? You almost never do. And please, don’t feed me that bullshit about it being a learning experience, Master.”
“It was Master Amara’s idea, actually,” Castien said. “She called me this morning and told me that certain people have raised concerns about your conduct, questioning my suitability as a Master to you.”