Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
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In any case, Eridan certainly wasn’t complaining about his Master’s more indulgent attitude toward him. He soaked it up, greedy for every bit of his Master’s attention and affection. He knew there were things they should talk about, but he was too scared to break the current status quo and ruin the uncharacteristic warmth filling their bond.
It wasn’t as though Castien was affectionate, exactly. By most people’s standards, he probably still acted cold and distant, but Eridan knew him. By Castien’s standards, he was positively touchy-feely these days. A hand on Eridan’s shoulder or his lower back, the way Castien’s telepathic mark lingered on him long after they parted, the way he kept Eridan close to him, taking him with him to his meetings… If Eridan didn’t know better, if Castien wasn’t Castien, he would think… he would think his Master was feeling a little clingy. A little possessive. Or something.
They didn’t talk about it. Just like they didn’t talk again about their ugly argument before Tethru’s death. Just like they didn’t talk about the fact that they wanted each other in the basest sense of the word.
Eridan told himself it didn’t matter. Nothing was going to happen. Castien supposedly had his reasons why he wouldn’t have sex with him, and Eridan didn’t feel like humiliating himself again by bringing the subject up.
But while they may not have talked about it, Eridan could feel the unresolved tension in their every interaction, and he didn’t think it was one-sided. He thought he sometimes caught his Master staring at him, his gaze transfixed and hungry.
Just as he was looking at him right now.
“I see you like your room,” Castien said, gazing down at Eridan, who was sprawled on his bed in his new bedroom, a datapad in his hand.
Eridan smiled up at him, enjoying the way his Master’s eyes shifted to his mouth. “I do. This is the softest bed I’ve ever had. Though I’m going to miss the mansion.”
Castien shrugged slightly, his blue eyes flicking down Eridan’s body. “The mansion is still my property, but as the Grandmaster, I must live in the castle. You know that. I have been delaying moving here as it is.”
Eridan nodded, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. They were in his bedroom. He was on his bed. His Master was staring at him like he wanted to eat him. The moment stretched—
Castien cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “I need to go. I have an appointment.” And he stalked out of Eridan’s bedroom, the door closing after him.
Eridan stared at the ceiling for a moment before shoving his pants down and wrapping his hand around his hard cock. He moaned in relief. He didn’t even care if his Master could hear him. Let him hear him. Something about that thought appealed to Eridan very much, his cock throbbing and his hole aching to be touched, to be filled. He was already slick, had been from the moment his Master walked into his bedroom. He shoved two fingers inside himself, stroking his cock with his other hand. He imagined Castien’s blue eyes watching him, imagined his Master’s cock becoming hard. He imagined his Master ordering him to get on his knees and suck his cock.
He moaned, taking his hand off his cock and pushing three fingers into his mouth. He sucked on them with relish, imagining what his Master would taste like, would feel like inside his mouth, hot and pulsing, coming deep inside him, filling him with his seed. He would take it, would take everything, anything his Master gave him—
Eridan came with a muffled moan, sucking on his own fingers.
He didn’t even feel guilty anymore.
He felt wonderful.
Chapter Twelve: The Queen
Of course, that uncertain state of affairs was unlikely to last, but it came to an end in a way Eridan had never expected.
One morning, Castien told him that he was to accompany him to an appointment.
In itself, it was nothing out of the ordinary: as a senior apprentice, Eridan was supposed to learn mind healing by observing his Master’s work.
But when he asked Castien where they were going, the answer surprised him.
“I have an appointment with Prince Jamil’ngh’veighli,” Castien said. “I am the one treating his severed marriage bond.”
Eridan winced. Castien had taught him how to establish and break marriage bonds that bound all the Calluvians, and he knew a snapped bond was painful. Those bonds were not at all like the bond between him and his Master; they were like a spider web, interwoven into one’s mind and blocking entire neural pathways. Having such a bond snapped—which usually happened when one’s bondmate died—was very painful. Of course, Prince-Consort Mehmer wasn’t actually dead, as Prince Jamil believed, but it didn’t change anything. The fact of the matter was, the bond Prince Jamil had had since being a toddler was broken now, causing damage to his mind, which required professional treatment.
And never mind that, unbeknownst to Prince Jamil, the man who was treating him was the one who had snapped his bond.
“You have never seen a broken marriage bond,” his Master said. “Simulations are not the same.” Castien steered him toward the t-chamber, his hand on Eridan’s lower back. “Of course, you will not be allowed into the room while I examine the prince, but if you are close, I will allow you to see what I see in his mind.”
“What about Prince-Consort Mehmer?” he murmured quietly, hyper-aware of his Master’s hand on his back.
“He is Master Sylas’s problem now,” Castien said. He dropped his hand only when they entered the t-chamber. “Third Royal Palace, the Crown Prince’s wing.”
They had to wait a few moments for his appointment with Prince Jamil to be verified before the transport started moving.
Before Eridan could ask for any details, they arrived, and he knew better than to talk about that subject in the Third Royal Palace.
Eridan followed his Master through the vast, luxurious halls of the palace, looking around curiously.
It wasn’t as though Eridan was a stranger to such places. Many of Castien’s properties off-world were grand and lavish, and High Hronthar—the castle, not the Order—was as opulent as this palace. But something about this palace felt different. Eridan could sense the pride of this bloodline, could sense hundreds of generations of this royal family that had left their telepathic marks in these walls. This palace felt old in a way even the monastery or High Hronthar didn’t, even though it wasn’t more ancient than they were.
“It is because of blood,” his Master explained, likely sensing his confusion. “Closely related telepaths have similar telepathic marks. That is the origin of familial bonds: siblings and parents share them because their telepathic presences are similar enough for them to connect. And similar telepathic marks leave stronger impressions as time passes.”
“His Royal Highness will join you momentarily, Your Grace,” the palace AI cut in. “Please wait for him in his office.”
Castien’s lips pursed, and Eridan pulled a face, not envying Prince Jamil in the slightest. His Master hated tardiness.
“Wait for me there,” Castien said, gesturing to the terrace before disappearing into the prince’s office.
Sighing, Eridan did as he was told.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, gazing at the gardens below, before he felt Castien open the bond between them. “Observe,” Castien told him before intertwining their telepathic presences together so that he could see what Castien was seeing in Prince Jamil’s mind.
It was the strangest feeling. It was quite disorienting, so Eridan closed his eyes, but the strangeness of the experience didn’t completely fade. This technique was used rarely for a reason: it was only possible between highly compatible minds.
He watched his Master examine Prince Jamil’s mind, studying the withered remnants of the prince’s marriage bond. He could sense a spark of interest from his Master, as if Castien had encountered something he hadn’t expected. Castien delved deeper, searching. Eridan could also sense Prince Jamil’s growing unease. It seemed he didn’t want Castien to see some
thing in his mind.
Eridan felt a pang of sympathy for the prince. The poor man had recently lost his husband; his mind and his marriage bond were all messed up. Surely he deserved some privacy?
Frowning, Eridan pulled out of the connection and sighed. His Master was going to be angry with him for being too “soft,” but that would be nothing new.
He left the terrace, opened the door to the office, and stuck his head in. “Master, are you done? Can we go already?”
Castien’s gaze snapped to him. His lips pursed slightly, his eyes flashing with irritation. “I told you to wait for me outside, Eridan.”
Eridan pouted exaggeratedly.
A muscle pulsed in Castien’s jaw. “My apologies for my apprentice, Your Highness,” he said. “Where are your manners, Eridan?”
“Oh!” Eridan gave Prince Jamil a sheepish smile, flushing. He bowed. “Health and tranquility, Your Highness.”
“You’re Master Idhron’s apprentice?” Prince Jamil said, shooting him a surprised look.
Eridan flashed him a crooked grin. “I am, and I’m the bane of his existence. You are even more stunning in person, Your Highness.”
The prince truly was stunning, with his shiny brown locks, beautiful green eyes, and the kind of bone structure that most people could only dream of.
“Eridan,” Castien snapped. “Wait for me outside.”
Eridan rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master,” he said. “But hurry up, would you? I’m bored. You know that me and boredom are never a good combination.”
He closed the door again and smiled to himself. Mission accomplished. Though he was going to be in a world of trouble for this.
Trying to delay the inevitable, Eridan wandered away.
He walked for a while, looking around curiously.
A female voice stopped him. “Are you lost, my dear?”
Eridan turned around and hastily bowed. “Your Majesty.” He had seen Queen Janesh only on the news, but it would be impossible not to recognize her. She was still a stunning beauty, despite having grown children.
He lifted his gaze, and to his surprise, found the Queen frowning, her face pale.
Eridan cocked his head, confused. “Your Majesty? Is something wrong?”
Queen Janesh shook her head, still frowning a little. “No. For a moment, I thought I was seeing a dear friend of mine who died a long time ago.” She smiled sadly. “The resemblance is quite uncanny. What is your name, child?” She glanced at his robes and raised her eyebrows. “You are a mind adept?”
Before Eridan could say anything, Castien caught up to him.
“Your Majesty,” he said with a small bow.
The Queen returned it. “Your Grace. Health and tranquility. You had an appointment with my son?”
Castien just nodded, laying a hand on Eridan’s shoulder. There was a strange wariness about him. Eridan looked at him sharply.
“How is he?” the Queen said. “Better?”
“His bond barely hurts him anymore,” Castien said. “But you understand that I cannot say more than that, Your Majesty. Patient-healer confidentiality.”
The Queen nodded. “Of course.” She glanced at Eridan curiously. “Is this young man your apprentice?”
Castien gave a clipped nod, his hand on Eridan’s shoulder tightening. “If you’ll excuse us, we have to go, Your Majesty.” He bowed and steered Eridan away.
“What was that?” Eridan hissed. “You were so rude, Master!”
Castien didn’t reply, his face like stone.
He seemed to relax only once they were back in the monastery. “Go to High Hronthar,” he said, without looking at Eridan. “I still have work here.”
Eridan nodded, looking at his Master’s retreating back, beyond bewildered.
Castien hadn’t even reprimanded him for interrupting him and Prince Jamil.
Had he just forgotten?
Chapter Thirteen: The Truth
Eridan returned to the castle, still feeling rattled and confused. Something was niggling at the back of his mind and he couldn’t place it.
So he went to his room, sat down on his meditation mat, and closed his eyes.
Achieving the state of meditation took a while when he was so anxious, but finally he managed.
He sank deeper into his mind, searching for the source of that niggling feeling.
I find it curious that there was a royal child about your age that went missing around the time Idhron brought you to the High Hronthar.
I thought I was seeing a dear friend of mine who died a long time ago. The resemblance is quite uncanny.
Eridan went still. He had dismissed Tethru’s speculations as ridiculous at the time, but if Queen Janesh used to have a friend who looked so like him that she had actually mistaken him for a dead person… Coupled with Castien’s uncharacteristic wariness and tension…
Taking a deep breath, Eridan told himself it proved nothing. He needed something more tangible.
He closed his eyes and fell into meditation again. He delved deeper and deeper, searching for those elusive, half-forgotten memories of his early childhood.
A tall, spacious room filled with toys. “He is old enough to get him betrothed… Perhaps after the trip…”
A lanky boy, with blue, tear-filled eyes. “They are dead, Eri. They won’t come back.”
A much younger Castien, gazing at him in an assessing manner. “What is your name, child?”
Eridan’s eyes snapped open. He stared in front of him unseeingly, his heart pounding. Castien had really brought him to the Order. Tethru had been honest, at least about that part. Could Tethru have been right about everything else?
He strained his memory, trying to remember more, but it was difficult. He wasn’t surprised. The day a High Hronthar child was Named, their existing familial and betrothal bonds, if there were any, were broken, to help the child let go of any previous attachments and adjust to their new life. That generally made the earlier memories vaguer. He had been too young to remember much, in any case.
I find it curious that there was a royal child about your age that went missing around the time Idhron brought you to the High Hronthar.
Chewing on his lip, Eridan reached for his multi-device. He could look up if there were any three-year-old royal children that went missing around the time he was brought to the Order. Although the mere idea still seemed ridiculous, he doubted Tethru would make up something like that for no reason.
An hour later, Eridan set his multi-device down and stared at it blankly. At the picture of the boy. Crown Prince Warrehn of the Fifth Grand Clan went missing seventeen years ago—as well as his three-year-old brother, Prince Eruadarhd.
There were no later pictures of the younger prince, since it was forbidden to photograph young children of high-profile figures unless it was for some official purpose. The only picture Eridan could find was from the day of Prince Eruadarhd’s birth, when the royal couple had released a press statement that included the Queen-Consort holding the newborn.
Eridan stared at the Queen-Consort, at her golden hair and violet eyes. Just like his own.
I thought I was seeing a dear friend of mine who died a long time ago. The resemblance is quite uncanny.
Then he looked at the ten-year-old Prince Warrehn. Looking at his picture made something inside his chest squeeze. He was almost sure that he remembered him, but it could be just confirmation bias.
Could this really be his family?
Eridan traced the Queen-Consort’s lovely face with his finger.
“Does it matter?” he whispered.
If they were his family, they all were dead anyway. The King and the Queen-Consort had died not long before their children’s disappearance. Crown Prince Warrehn was presumed dead, supposedly killed by the rebels.
Eridan was skeptical about the latter part—that he was killed by the rebels. The rebels were actually harmless. But in any case, it was highly unlikely that Prince Warrehn was alive. It had been over seventeen year
s. The elder prince would have turned up somewhere if he were alive.
His brother was dead, just like their parents.
Eridan’s vision was suddenly a little blurry.
It was so stupid, crying over strangers, his blood family he almost didn’t remember.
He wasn’t Prince Eruadarhd. He was just Eridan, an apprentice of the High Hronthar.
The Grandmaster’s apprentice.
Eridan frowned. Regardless of what he thought about this discovery, the fact remained that his Master had been lying to him, or at least lying by omission. Castien had never told him that he was the one who had brought him to the Order.
Where had he even found him? These old reports said that the two princes had been attacked by the rebels in the forest at the foothills of the Great Mountains, which… made sense. It wasn’t far from one of the hidden hangar bays of the Order. It was possible that Castien had been traveling from the monastery to Hronthar on an aircraft and… and what? Found a lost child and decided to steal him for the Order? That part didn’t make sense. Eridan knew his Master found small children annoying. Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine Castien going out of his way to help some lost child.
That meant Castien knew exactly who Eridan was. He had known exactly who Eridan was when he claimed him preliminarily as his apprentice.
He had known all along.
Eridan’s mind raced with the implications of it.
He had never had delusions about his Master. He knew Castien never did anything on a whim, his every move carefully planned. Eridan had always found it strange that his Master had claimed him so early and yet had shown no interest in him when he was a child. Now it all was starting to make more sense.
Castien had shown no interest because he had no intention of keeping him as his apprentice.
Eridan swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“Don’t be too hasty,” he whispered to himself. “There could be other reasons.”
But deep down, he knew it was the truth. Castien had always known that one day he would use Eridan as another piece in his game, so there was no point getting attached.