Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/alessandra-hazard/page,14,561046-princes_master.html
A laugh, bitter and harsh, left Eridan’s mouth. He pressed his hands to his eyes, hating himself for how much it hurt. It was stupid. He was being stupid. He had always known what kind of a man his Master was. Castien had never lied to him outright, never pretended to care for him or love him.
In the grand scheme of things, this was nothing. Castien’s plan was hardly evil: if his parents and older brother were dead, Eridan would become the rightful king of the Fifth Grand Clan when he turned twenty-five. Having his own former apprentice as the king of one of the biggest Calluvian grand clans would obviously be a huge boon. This plan was hardly nefarious. Just cynical and cold-hearted.
It still hurt.
And it certainly rid him of any delusions he’d had before. He had stupidly thought that the fact that his Master protected him from the attention of other Masters meant that he was being protective of him. Castien clearly just didn’t want them to prematurely figure out who Eridan was. Even Castien’s rejection of him was starting to make so much sense. Why would Castien want to start an unnecessary physical relationship that had the potential to mess up his plans? After all, he would want his apprentice to be loyal to him but not too clingy if he wanted to use him as a puppet king.
Eridan chuckled, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he remembered himself arrogantly telling Javier that he knew his place in his Master’s life. He had known nothing. He was just an expendable pawn, nothing more. Castien probably couldn’t wait to finally get rid of him and get an apprentice he really wanted to teach.
Idiot. He had been such an idiot to crave the love of a man who was incapable of it.
The question was, what he was going to do now?
Chapter Fourteen: Confrontation
Eridan felt more or less calm by the time Castien came home.
Though “calm” seemed to be a grossly inaccurate word when his world had been completely turned upside down. He had never felt so powerless in his life. So anchorless. The Order was all he had ever known, and the thought of being cast out of it and becoming one of the royals was, frankly, more than a little terrifying. Discovering that his Master had chosen him not because he wanted him as an apprentice but because he wanted to use him as a piece in a political game made something in him burn with hurt and anger.
So perhaps he wasn’t calm.
But he could pretend to be calm. He could smile when he wanted to scream and rage. He would achieve nothing by screaming and raging; he had learned that much from his Master.
Castien lifted his gaze from his meal when Eridan entered the small dining room. “Have you eaten?” he said, glancing at the serving robot.
“I’m not hungry, Master,” he said. It was true enough. He would probably puke if he ate.
Castien’s brows furrowed. “Why are you shielding yourself?”
Eridan smiled crookedly. “Aren’t you always telling me that my loud, distasteful emotions distract you?”
Castien eyed him for a long moment before saying quietly, “What is wrong, Eridan?”
Eridan’s throat closed up. A part of him wanted to punch his Master in the face and walk out. A part of him, the part that wasn’t simmering with rage, hurt, and betrayal, wanted to hide in his Master’s arms and be comforted. A part of him wanted to pretend he hadn’t found out that his life was a lie, that the man who had been his world considered him just a disposable pawn.
“I know everything, Master,” he said quietly.
Castien went very still. “Pardon?” he said, his voice careful and his eyes guarded.
“I know who I am,” Eridan said hoarsely. “I know why you took me on as an apprentice.”
He had thought Castien would at least have the decency to look guilty, but he couldn’t sense any guilt—just resignation and the same strange tension he could sense back at the palace.
Castien regarded him calmly for a moment and gestured to the seat opposite him. “Sit.”
“I don’t want to,” Eridan said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Castien sighed. “I suppose you are angry,” he said, his gaze on his salad.
Eridan laughed harshly. “You could say that. I feel like an idiot. Like the biggest idiot in the world. I guess it’s my own fault—for thinking that I could trust you. That you gave a shit about me.”
Castien’s expression became slightly pinched. “I have never lied to you, Eridan,” he said, his eyes still on his meal. “It is hardly my fault that you attributed to me qualities I am not capable of.”
“You’re right,” Eridan said with a brittle smile. “I’m angry, but mostly at myself, for being so stupid. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore with my disgusting, illogical emotions.”
Castien’s shoulders tensed. He lifted his gaze, his blue eyes wary. “What do you mean? Are you leaving?”
Eridan snorted. “Where would I go?” he said bitterly. “To my dead family?”
Something flickered in Castien’s eyes. He said nothing.
“I guess I could go to the Fifth Royal Palace, try to claim my inheritance. But while I’m not of age to rule, that would be largely pointless, as I would be at the mercy of the regent who I bet had a hand in my parents’ and brother’s deaths.” Eridan paused, taking a deep breath. He gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “I will stay here until I’m of age, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Just like you planned all along.”
Castien’s face was unreadable but his telepathic presence was tense and agitated. “I could erase your memories of this,” he said conversationally.
“You could,” Eridan said, hating himself for not even considering this as an option, hating himself for still trusting this man not to hurt him. “But why would you do this? I will be following your plan to the letter, after all. You lost nothing, Master. Nothing but my stupid affections.”
Castien’s jaw clenched. “Eridan—”
“Don’t worry, Master,” he said. “I will not disrespect you in public. You are still my Master. From now on, I promise to respect your boundaries and try to imitate the behavior of other apprentices. I will be so quiet you will barely even notice me anymore.” He smiled wanly. “You will finally get the unemotional, respectful apprentice you have always wanted.”
He got a weird, twisted kind of pleasure from seeing the shift in Castien’s expression.
Good.
This was the only weapon he had.
Eridan wasn’t sure Castien would even care if he put distance between them—in fact, it was very likely that Castien would be pleased—but this was something that he could take away. Maybe his affection and his trust didn’t matter to Castien, but they did matter to Eridan, and taking them away would at least preserve some of his pride and self-respect when his Master inevitably threw him away like a used thing.
And maybe, just maybe, the distance would help him eradicate this terrible, irrational yearning inside his heart.
Please, he thought, pleading to whatever deity might listen. Please.
Interlude
Irrene was getting desperate.
Her boss was in an absolutely foul mood.
Some people might scoff at the mere notion of Castien Idhron having moods, but Irrene knew better. Over the year since she’d become the new Grandmaster’s secretary, she’d seen Master Castien in several different moods. Roughly seventy percent of the time, he was absolutely calm and unflappable. Twenty-five percent of the time, he was mildly irritated. And five percent of the time, Irrene was scared of approaching her boss for fear of him biting her head off.
Master Castien rarely displayed his anger on his face, but when he was in a foul mood, his telepathic presence became so dark and oppressive it was hard to breathe in the same room as him.
Irrene had learned to just avoid her boss when he was angry, but unfortunately, in the past few months, the ratio of bad days to good days had become decidedly not normal. She had sensed her boss’s growing agitation for months: it had built and built and built, and she had been dreadin
g what was going to happen when so much tension finally found an outlet.
She didn’t understand what was going on. Master Castien hadn’t been that way in the first few months after assuming the role of the Grandmaster. He had been a remarkably calm man—a freakishly calm one, even by the Order’s standards—but something must have happened, because his telepathic presence had become tenser with every month. As months passed, she noticed the visible clues, too: the growing tension around his eyes and mouth, the way he tracked his apprentice with his eyes, something dark lurking in his telepathic presence.
Speaking of his apprentice, the boy had changed his demeanor, too, and even more drastically than Master Castien had. Eridan used to come to the monastery all the time to bother his Master while he worked, but now Irrene barely saw him. When she did, he was quiet and withdrawn. The few times she’d managed to get him talking, Eridan smiled insincerely and told her that everything was fine when she asked him if anything was wrong.
The most disturbing part was when she saw Eridan interact with his Master. Eridan would barely lift his gaze, speaking very little and murmuring only “Yes, Master” or “No, Master” when he was asked something by Castien directly. It was a striking contrast to the boy who had constantly sassed and talked over his Master in the beginning of the year. It baffled Irrene immensely, and she could sense that such behavior only served to irritate Master Castien.
In fact, she was positive Castien’s foul moods were directly linked to his apprentice.
Irrene didn’t know what to think. There were all sorts of rumors about Master Castien and his apprentice, and some of them were not fit for polite company, but she had never believed that Master Castien and his apprentice were in an inappropriate relationship. Not because she thought Master Castien wasn’t capable of it—she had no delusions about him: men like that took what they wanted, and damn the morals—but because she could sense so much toxic, unresolved tension between them that it made her uncomfortable just being in the same room with those two.
As days turned into months, and months stretched into a year, she could sense that things were coming to a head. She had no idea what would happen, but she knew that when that horrible, dark tension building under Master Castien’s skin finally snapped, it would not be pretty.
She could only hope she wouldn’t be there when it happened.
Unfortunately, she was, and it happened in a way she had not expected at all: Eridan was kidnapped right from the monastery’s gardens.
That in itself wasn’t enough to make Master Castien snap.
But when security cameras captured the image of the kidnapper, Irrene winced, trying to shield herself from the icy, biting fury that filled the room.
“Blockade the area around Hangar Bay 4,” Castien ordered the security guards, his cold eyes still fixed on the image of the tall man carrying his unconscious apprentice away.
Chapter Fifteen: Something Lost
Eridan didn’t remember being knocked out.
He just remembered that he had been enjoying a walk outside the monastery, and then… nothing.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up inside this tiny room, bound to a chair and gagged, with two strangers—a man and a woman—arguing over him.
“Is the gag really necessary?” the man said gruffly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.” He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing blue eyes and brown hair with streaks of gold. His age was hard to determine: he could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty-five. He would have been a handsome man if the scowl on his face didn’t make his face look so unpleasant.
The woman was a tiny thing, beautiful, blonde, and probably around the same age as the man. “He could have woken up while we transported him,” she said, shrugging. “The kid would have hardly kept silent if we asked him nicely.”
Eridan said, “Unbind me!” but it came out as unintelligible mumbling thanks to the gag.
His kidnappers turned to him and eyed him curiously.
Eridan glared at them.
The woman was the one to step closer and remove the gag.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Eridan spat out.
“What foul language for a monk,” the woman said, clicking her tongue.
Eridan opened his mouth and closed it as he realized that these people were outsiders. This wasn’t some stupid prank by Xhen and his cronies. These people thought he was a monk—something only the outsiders called members of the Order.
And they had a strange accent, Eridan noted with growing bewilderment. He’d never heard an accent like that. Accents were so rare these days, considering how widespread the GlobalNet was. He wondered if they were using translating chips—that could be the reason for the accents—except that didn’t seem right, either. Translating chips gave a recognizable cadence to one’s voice that sounded a little unnatural. These people didn’t have one. They spoke like native Calluvians, except for their strange accents.
“How old are you?” the man said, scowling. “We thought you would be older.”
His accent was faint, nowhere near as obvious as the woman’s. Eridan wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“None of your business,” Eridan said. “What is the meaning of this? Release me at once.”
The woman chuckled. “Adorable. Isn’t he just the cutest, Warrehn?”
Eridan flinched, startled by the familiar name, before realizing how ridiculous he was being. That name wasn’t all that rare. There were probably thousands of people out there called Warrehn. Outsiders didn’t use unique names like the Order did.
The man—Warrehn—pressed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. “Shut up, Sirri. It isn’t amusing. What are we supposed to do with him?”
Sirri sighed exaggeratedly. “You’re no fun.” She shifted her gaze to Eridan. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you. You’re the High Adept’s apprentice. You’re here because we want to talk to your Master.”
“Then you should have made an appointment, like all normal people,” Eridan said snidely.
Sirri grinned. “You’re going to be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?” She looked almost pleased. “At least this promises to be entertaining. I would have killed myself from boredom if I had to be stuck in this tiny house with that grumpy bore.” She motioned toward Warrehn.
The “grumpy bore” just glared at her before repeating, “What are we going to do with him? We could be stuck here for ages. We can’t keep him bound to the chair.”
“Why not?” Sirri said. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him.”
Warrehn scowled. “He’s just a kid. He can’t be older than sixteen or seventeen. The informant must have lied about his age.”
Sirri shrugged. “A little discomfort won’t kill him. You take the first shift. I’m going to sleep. Wake me up in six hours.”
Warrehn glowered at her. “You’re not in charge here.”
Sirri smiled, all teeth. “Someone has to be.”
A muscle pulsed in Warrehn’s jaw, anger rolling off him in waves.
Eridan tensed and looked at the man sharply.
Cocking his head to the side, he reached out with his senses.
What he found made him stiffen.
These people’s telepathy wasn’t as bound as that of other Calluvians. They both were powerful telepaths, the man more so than the woman, but more importantly, their abilities were refined and tightly controlled. They were well trained.
There were no Calluvians outside of the Order that received any formal telepathic training—and definitely none that were so powerful.
Which meant… Which meant that they must be the rebels. They must be Tai’Lehrians. The very same people that could cause a lot of problems for the Order.
“What do you want from my Master?” Eridan said, suppressing his unease.
“That is none of your business, kid,” Sirri said with a condescending smile.
“I am not a kid,” Eridan ground out.
“And you made it my business when you kidnapped me.”
“We know about your Order’s machinations,” Warrehn said. “We want the High Hronthar to stop manipulating public opinion against us.”
“Us, huh?” Sirri said, looking delighted for some reason.
The withering look Warrehn gave her was so murderous it made Eridan curious.
Did that mean Warrehn wasn’t actually one of the rebels?
Tucking the thought away to examine later, Eridan let out a chuckle. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, giving them his best bewildered look. “This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”
“Right,” Sirri said with a snort before striding toward the door. “Wake me up in six hours, War. And keep an eye on the comm. Rohan might contact us. If we are lucky, the blockade will be lifted soon, and we can leave.”
“The blockade?” Eridan said when the door closed behind her.
Warrehn grunted something, settling in the chair by the window and looking outside with a fierce scowl on his face. From his position, Eridan couldn’t see what was outside the house, but surely it couldn’t be that bad.
“What blockade?” he tried again, adopting his softest, most innocent voice. This man seemed to have an aversion to hurting kids, so acting like a confused kid could be beneficial. Warrehn seemed somewhat kinder than the woman.
Warrehn bit out, “The blockade your precious Order has put around the Blind.”
The Blind?
The term sounded vaguely familiar… Eridan strained his memory, trying to remember.
Right, one of the reports on Tai’Lehr had mentioned that they used a narrow strip of land near Hangar Bay 4 for teleporting between Calluvia and Tai’Lehr. It was one of the few places around the Great Mountains that allowed for transgalactic teleporters to work without being detected by Calluvian authorities, but it seemed the Tai’Lehrians thought it was the only place. Eridan could remember asking Castien years ago why the Order simply didn’t block the rebels’ access to Calluvia.