Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/alessandra-hazard/page,16,561046-princes_master.html
Your bleeding heart is going to be your downfall one day, Eridan.
His Master had been right. As usual.
“… what are you sulking about, brat?”
Eridan flinched and looked at Sirri. “I’m not sulking. I’m just sick of listening to the two of you bitching at each other. What did you want?”
Sirri glanced at Warrehn, who stood silently by the door, frowning at Eridan with a strange look on his face.
“We decided we’re done waiting. It doesn’t look like your people are going to give up anytime soon and end the blockade. We’ll have to act. Warrehn and I are going to kill each other if we’re stuck here for another month.”
A month? Had it really been a month already?
It seemed both longer and shorter than that.
Eridan pursed his lips in confusion. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”
“We will contact the High Adept—or rather, you will.” Sirri pulled Eridan’s communicator out of her pocket and switched it on. “Unlock it and call him. We’ll do the rest.”
Eridan looked at his communicator greedily. He knew he should probably refuse to comply with the rebels’ plan, but the thought of actually seeing his Master and hearing his voice, made something inside him ache with longing.
He found himself nodding.
“Huh, I thought you would be a pain in the ass about it,” Sirri said. “Though if you’re hoping your people would trace your location through your communicator, don’t get your hopes up: there’s a jammer in this safe house.”
Eridan shook his head. “Let’s get it over with,” he said. “Unbind me.”
Sirri did, and Eridan sighed, rubbing at his wrists before accepting his communicator and unlocking it. Immediately, it chimed with the notifications of missed calls and messages.
Ignoring them, Eridan tapped on Castien’s personal communicator number and waited with bated breath for the call to connect. It might not connect at all if Castien was at High Hronthar rather than the monastery. Communicator coverage was spotty in the mountains.
“You will not talk to him,” Sirri said, snatching the communicator away from him, binding his hands, and shoving a gag into Eridan’s mouth.
Eridan glared at her, but the infuriating woman ignored him, setting the communicator on the table so it was facing him before stepping out of the camera frame.
“He can see you, but you will not talk to him,” Sirri said.
Eridan glowered at her, but at that moment, the call connected.
His traitorous heart jumped as Castien’s face appeared on the screen of his communicator.
He looks tired, was Eridan’s first thought as he stared hungrily at his Master.
Castien also looked angry, though it probably wasn’t noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him. To Sirri, Grandmaster Idhron probably looked as unemotional as it could get, but Eridan knew him, knew every infinitesimal change to his normally blank expression.
Castien looked at Eridan’s gagged face for a long moment before saying flatly, “What do you want?”
Staying out of the camera’s view, Sirri smiled. “I like a man who gets straight to the point.” She put a blaster to Eridan’s temple.
It felt cold.
Eridan was very still, just looking into Castien’s eyes.
In the meantime, Sirri continued cheerfully, “Our demands are as follows: You will remove your people from the forest. You will meet us there tomorrow, alone and unarmed. You will turn on your identification chip’s beacon the moment you arrive in the forest and wait for us at the Blind. If you try to trick us, your apprentice will die.” Her voice hardened. “I’m not joking, Your Grace. Frankly, he’s been a pain in the ass, and it wouldn’t be a hardship for me to kill him. If you want to see his pretty face again, you will do as I say.”
Not a single muscle moved on Castien’s face. He said, “Very well.”
Eridan blinked, a little surprised. It wasn’t at all like Castien to give in to someone’s demands. His Master probably intended to double-cross the rebels somehow; that was the only explanation he could think of.
Sirri shifted a little, emanating confusion, too. She clearly hadn’t expected for it to be so easy. She cleared her throat and switched the communicator off.
“It’s a trap,” Warrehn said gruffly.
“Shut up. It was mostly your idea, not mine,” Sirri said, but Eridan could sense her unease. “That man is creepy as fuck. Are all mind adepts so unemotional?”
Warrehn shrugged distractedly. “Some of them are more emotional than others. The mind adept that handled our family was more normal—” He cut himself off, grimacing, before stalking out of the room.
Sirri sighed. “Of course he storms off to sulk, and I have to be the one who has to break the news to Rohan,” she said, sounding beyond annoyed. “Warrehn!” She followed him out of the room, leaving Eridan still bound and gagged.
But this time he could barely feel the discomfort.
Tomorrow.
He was going to see him tomorrow.
Chapter Seventeen: Reunion
The Rohan person, Warrehn’s pseudo-brother Eridan had already grown to dislike, was nothing like he had imagined.
He was a tall, striking man, with brown skin and penetrating dark eyes.
“I was starting to forget your face,” Sirri said the moment she saw him.
Ignoring her, Rohan looked at Warrehn and then Eridan.
He did a double-take, frowning.
“How old even is he?” Rohan said.
Warrehn shrugged. “He refuses to say.”
“Old enough to be a pain in our asses,” Sirri said with a scowl.
Eridan glared at her.
Rohan’s eyebrows crept up. “Are we sure he’s the Grandmaster’s apprentice? I didn’t think they encouraged emotion.”
Eridan shot him a withering look.
Sirri snorted. “He’s touchy about it.” She glanced at her multi-device. “We should get moving.”
“Everything clear?” Rohan asked Warrehn.
Sirri replied for him. “We checked. Their people really left. Everyone but the Grandmaster.”
Warrehn kept glancing around warily. “Doesn’t mean we aren’t being tracked somehow. Let’s get moving.” He put a hand on Eridan’s back and pushed him forward.
Eridan complied.
He breathed in the humid forest air, already in a better mood. Being stuck inside a tiny room for a month had given him a new appreciation for being outdoors.
His mood improved with every step that took him closer toward his Master. Eridan could already feel him, faintly, but stronger with every moment, their bond pulsing with terrible tension.
“Can you feel him, Warrehn?” Rohan said after a while. They obviously could no longer trace Castien’s identification chip’s signal. They had already entered the Hangar Bay 4 area. Only powerful electronic devices like the TNIT could work within such areas.
Pulling out a blaster, Warrehn grunted in affirmative and changed the direction they were going a little.
Eridan wondered about it. It seemed Warrehn was the strongest telepath among the trio, though he could sense that Rohan and Sirri were at least Class 4, perhaps higher. It was hard to tell with trained telepaths because of their mental shields.
Eridan lost that train of thought the moment they stepped into the small clearing.
“Master!” he said with a wide, happy smile, before he could stop himself and remember that he was angry with Castien.
Castien’s expressionless face didn’t change, though his telepathic signature reached out toward Eridan and pressed around him, almost suffocating him with its force. His unreadable blue eyes swept over him from head to toe before moving to the man gripping Eridan’s arm. Something shifted in Castien’s eyes as his gaze locked on Warrehn.
Eridan wondered about it. Did Castien recognize him? Did he know Warrehn was his brother?
Had they met?
The thought
was startling. He had previously assumed Warrehn must have abandoned him in the forest and Castien had simply found him, but what if it wasn’t true? But then, wouldn’t Warrehn recognize Castien, too?
Eridan looked at Warrehn curiously. He was frowning and glowering at Castien, but since Warrehn looked grumpy most of the time, it was hard to tell if there was a particular reason for this grumpy look.
Castien looked from Warrehn to Sirri before his gaze finally settled on Rohan. “Well?” he said. “What do you want?”
Eridan frowned, unsure why Castien was addressing Rohan when he had barely even been involved in Eridan’s kidnapping. He felt like he was missing something.
“You know who I am,” Rohan said. “I’m sure you can put two and two together.”
“Yes,” Castien conceded, his face still blank. “But I am not here to talk about my suspicions. I am here to get back what you stole. Eridan, come here.”
Warrehn let out a harsh laugh, tightening his grip on Eridan. “You seriously think I’m letting the kid go, just like that?”
Castien didn’t look away from Rohan. “Tell him to release the boy.”
“Look,” Rohan said, heaving a sigh. “We didn’t want to get the kid involved at all, but it was the only way to get you to talk to us on our terms.”
“And what made you think kidnapping a simple apprentice would make me more cooperative?” Castien said. “He’s just a boy, one of hundreds of initiates eager to learn from me. I could have him replaced at a moment’s notice.”
Eridan dropped his gaze and stared at his boots.
What his Master had said was a simple statement of fact, nothing more. It shouldn’t hurt. He knew what kind of a man Castien Idhron was. It shouldn’t hurt.
“Then what are you doing here?” Rohan said. “If he’s so worthless to you?”
Eridan lifted his gaze.
Castien didn’t look at him, his eyes still on Rohan. “I didn’t say that he was worthless. It would be a pity to have wasted years of my time on him if I were to take on another apprentice. He is of some worth to me, but you are delusional if you think I will not sacrifice him if you try to use him against me.”
Of some worth.
He was of some worth to his Master.
Rationally, Eridan knew Castien had to downplay his importance in order to not allow himself to be blackmailed. But Eridan also knew better than to delude himself into thinking that it was anything but the truth.
Sirri chuckled.
“He’s lying,” she said. She was looking at Castien with a faint smirk. “Oh, you’re good. I would have totally believed you. Except I have a feeling that what you just said is a load of bullshit and if we believe you, we’ll make a huge mistake.”
“She has a gift for premonition,” Rohan clarified, looking coolly at Castien. “So shall we try again?”
Castien’s lips thinned. He was silent for a while, looking from Rohan to Sirri before saying, “What do you want?”
Eridan stared at him, stunned.
Castien still wouldn’t look at him.
“Stop twisting public opinion against us. That’s our first demand.”
“First? I presume there is a second?”
“You’ll clear our names of the murder of Prince-Consort Mehmer,” Rohan said. “As long as we’re blamed for the murder of a royal, the Council won’t even listen to us. We’ll be arrested on the spot.”
Castien just looked at Rohan for a long moment.
Eridan cocked his head to the side, sensing the shift in Castien’s telepathic presence. It was changing, becoming like… like Rohan’s.
He was morphing his telepathic presence to imitate Rohan’s, Eridan realized with morbid fascination. It should have been impossible. He’d had no idea his Master had such a telepathic gift—heck, he hadn’t realized such a gift existed. It was as creepy as it was fascinating.
The implications of it… were, frankly, terrifying, because a telepath’s mark was the ultimate security measure that protected the telepath’s mind. By imitating Rohan’s telepathic mark, Castien could theoretically bypass Rohan’s mental shields as if they didn’t exist: they wouldn’t fight him, because they wouldn’t recognize him as an intruder.
Rohan’s expression became a little puzzled, as if he sensed that something was off but couldn’t quite figure out what.
Finally, Castien’s presence returned back to normal. Eridan could sense something that felt a lot like amusement through their bond. Castien was amused by something.
Frankly, Eridan felt kind of sorry for Rohan. When his Master was amused, it was usually at someone else’s expense. Castien did have a sense of humor, but it was rather twisted.
“Very well,” Castien said with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Now let my apprentice go.”
“Not so fast,” Warrehn grunted when Eridan tried to free himself. “You aren’t getting him back until you keep your end of the deal.”
Castien’s expression became stony. “I am not leaving without my apprentice.”
Eridan’s foolish heart jumped at those words, though rationally he knew Castien likely was just unwilling to keep his end of the deal.
“Sorry, dear, but you understand that we can’t trust you,” Sirri said.
“I can hardly trust you, either,” Castien said. “How do I know that you will let my apprentice go even if I do as you say?”
“You don’t,” Rohan agreed. “But the difference is, you can’t do anything to us. It’s not in your interests to tell the Council where the rebels’ base is. You don’t want us to be found. That would destroy the social order the High Hronthar spent millennia establishing. If other Calluvians see how much stronger we are, they will be scared. There will likely be war, and Calluvians won’t want to be shackled by their childhood bonds anymore while the hated ‘rebels’ are so much stronger. You will lose the unlimited power you now enjoy.”
Castien’s eyes grew colder. “Then why should I do anything for you if it all ends the same way, either way?”
Rohan seemed to hesitate, his expression rather pinched.
“We could help each other,” he said.
Eridan frowned. He hadn’t expected that at all.
Judging by Warrehn and Sirri’s bewildered gazes, they hadn’t, either.
Rohan ignored them all, looking only at Castien. “The difference is, if you help us restore our reputation, we won’t remind the Council of the original reason our ancestors rebelled. We won’t remind them of the ex-member of the High Hronthar who was disgusted by his Order’s thirst for power, by the web of deception the Order wove for the Council, using their fears against them. If the Council actually accepts Tai’Lehrians, there will be no war, and if there is no war against powerful telepaths, Calluvians will have little reason to want to break their bonds. We’ll leave the Order alone, and you’ll be able to keep most of your power if you play your cards right.”
Sirri made a protesting noise and Warrehn glared at Rohan, but Rohan ignored them again.
Eridan was confused. Who was Rohan? Why was he negotiating on behalf of Tai’Lehr?
His Master seemed to know who he was dealing with and was similarly ignoring the other two. Eridan could sense Castien was actually considering Rohan’s offer seriously.
“As a show of goodwill, we’ll let your apprentice go,” Rohan said, ignoring the protesting noise from Warrehn this time. “Think about my offer. Working together would be beneficial for both of us. It’s the only way that doesn’t involve heavy losses for both of us.”
Slowly, Castien nodded. “I shall think about it,” he said before finally looking at Eridan. “Eridan.” Come here, he said more softly through the bond, softer than he’d talked to him in months.
Eridan couldn’t help but smile at him.
His feet moved forward without conscious thought. He grabbed his Master’s wrist, the simple contact making him shiver.
Castien activated his transponder, and they both teleported away.
Chapter Eighteen: Snapped
Eridan wasn’t sure what he had expected when they reappeared in the monastery, but it wasn’t for Castien to tell him coldly, “Go to Hronthar. I have work here.”
And then, with a swish of his brown robes, he left.
Eridan stared at his retreating back, his heart somewhere at his feet.
All right. So much for getting a hug or a simple “welcome back.”
He felt stupidly blindsided, and he had no one to blame but himself. How many times would his Master make it clear that he didn’t care for him? How many times would he be treated like dirt before his world would finally stop revolving around that cold, heartless man?
Anger filled his senses, and Eridan let it. Anger was better than this pathetic, achy feeling in his chest.
Screw him.
He hated him. He hated him, hated him, hated him.
* * *
Eridan worked himself up into such a rage that by the time Castien came back to the castle, he was itching for a confrontation. Initially, he had wanted to give Castien the cold shoulder, except it wasn’t satisfying enough. He had been giving him the cold shoulder for months, to no effect. No, that wasn’t enough. He was burning for a fight, for a—
“What do you want, Eridan?” Castien said as he walked into his own bedroom. He put the case he was carrying on the floor, without looking at Eridan.
Eridan glared at him, his heart pounding with rage. “Screw you, Master,” he said with relish and enjoyed the way Castien’s cold eyes narrowed a little.
“I see you are in a mood,” he said.
“I can’t imagine why,” Eridan said. “Is it so hard to say: I’m glad you’re back, Eridan. I was worried. How did they treat you? Are you hurt?” He chuckled harshly. “But no, that would require you to actually give a damn.”
“Do not test my patience, Eridan.”