Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
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Eridan glowered at him. “Why?”
Castien averted his gaze for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working. “There was no point. With your brother’s return and ascension to the throne, the Order had little to gain from returning you to the Fifth Royal House. I didn’t spend four years training you just to give you up for nothing.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” Warrehn growled out. “My brother was never yours to give up. Eridan, let’s go before I punch that asshole.”
Castien didn’t even glance at him, his eyes back on Eridan. “Eridan—”
“Shut up,” Eridan whispered tightly. His eyes were burning. “I trusted you. Despite everything—despite everything I knew about you—I still trusted you not to mess with my mind.” He laughed bitterly. “I was an idiot to think I was special. Why would I be? Who knows how else you have manipulated me.”
Castien’s shoulders tensed up. “I promise I have not manipulated you in any way.”
Eridan laughed. “I guess I should just take your word for it, Master. I mean, it’s not like you’d ever erase my memories, right?”
Castien closed his eyes for a moment. Eridan felt him reach out through their bond into his mind and remove some kind of block—and his forgotten memories snapped back into place.
Eridan sucked a breath in, a little disoriented as he tried to assimilate all the memories. Queen Janesh. His research. His confrontation with Castien. His analysis of Warrehn’s telepathic mark. Brother. Warrehn really was his brother.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Warrehn cut in, taking another step to Eridan. He laid a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “Eri, let’s go—you are coming home with me.”
Eridan stared at him before looking at Castien.
“Don’t look at him,” Warrehn said harshly. “That man has no say in it. You are a prince of the Fifth Grand Clan. He had no right to deprive you of your birthright.”
“I deprived him of nothing,” Castien said coldly. “Unless by birthright you mean being scared to return to one’s own home. You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
Warrehn glared at him, his face flushing. “Shut up. We know that you had my aunt under your thumb for years. You could have easily returned Eridan home years ago without risking his life. That’s what I don’t understand. Why didn’t you? Or did you want me dead first? Or maybe you weren’t done brainwashing him?”
Castien stood, his eyes ice cold as he looked at Warrehn, his telepathic presence darkening and filling the room. The air was so thick with it Eridan could barely breathe.
Castien said quietly, “You should not insult someone in their own home.”
Warrehn’s fists clenched. “I’m not scared of you, Idhron. Or are you going to brainwash me, too, like you brainwashed my brother?”
“Enough,” Eridan snapped. “I’m right here. And Castien can be a total asshole, and I despise him for what he did, but I’m not brainwashed, thank you very much.”
Warrehn gave him a dismissive look. “You would say that if you were brainwashed, Eri.”
Eridan glared at him. “My name is Eridan. I’m not the child you abandoned two decades ago, and I would appreciate it if you’d stop treating me like one.”
Warrehn looked as though he’d punched him. “I didn’t want to leave you, Eridan. I had no choice.” He glared at Castien. “Didn’t you tell him how you got him? It was you, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure at first—it all happened so fast, and you were a lot younger back then—but now I’m sure it was you.”
Castien’s face was blank, his eyes cold and unreadable.
Eridan looked at him, his voice wavering as he said, “Is that true?”
Warrehn grumbled, “Why do you still believe his word over mine?”
Eridan ignored him, looking at Castien, pleading with him to tell him the truth, for once.
Castien stared at him for a long moment, his telepathic presence coiled with tension.
Finally, he gave a clipped nod.
“See?” Warrehn said. “We are leaving. Do you have things you want to take with you?”
Eridan blinked at him, feeling lost, and found himself looking back at Castien. He hated himself for still looking at Castien Idhron when he felt lost.
A muscle twitched in Castien’s jaw, his face otherwise inscrutable as he gazed at Eridan. “He is right that I have no authority to keep you here. Your brother is your legal guardian until you turn twenty-five.”
“Exactly,” Warrehn said gruffly. “You know you have no legal ground to stand on, especially since I can accuse you of line theft—Eridan is my heir.” Warrehn sneered. “And your Order’s unblemished reputation is more important to you, isn’t it?”
Castien didn’t even glance at Warrehn, still looking at Eridan with that strange, intense look on his otherwise blank face. “I made sure you have been taught royal customs. You should not struggle too much.”
Right.
This had always been Castien’s plan, just a few years early—and with an overprotective brother that wasn’t supposed to be in the picture when Castien had devised the plan.
Eridan pressed his lips together to stop them from trembling.
“How thoughtful of you,” Warrehn said flatly, scowling at Castien. “The only reason I’m not getting your whole organization outed as a bunch of power-hungry psychos is because I don’t give a shit about politics and you did save my brother’s life and keep him safe—if you can call being raised in this creepy place safe. Leave him alone from now on, and I won’t have a problem with you. Eridan, let’s go. Eridan?”
Eridan stared at Castien’s emotionless face, waiting for… he didn’t know what. A proper goodbye? For Castien to forbid him from leaving? Or… ask him to stay?
A laugh bubbled up in his chest, harsh and humorless.
Fuck, he really was an idiot.
Turning away swiftly, Eridan bit out, “Let’s go,” and marched out of the room.
He didn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty-Two: A New Home
The Fifth Royal Palace was beautiful. Beautiful, obnoxiously luxurious, and completely unfamiliar.
Nothing triggered a memory.
“It used to look different,” Warrehn said gruffly, breaking the awkward silence that had descended between them since they had left the monastery.
Eridan made a non-committal noise, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to act around Warrehn. It wasn’t as though he didn’t think of him as his brother: during his month of captivity, he had come to accept it as a fact, and now that his memories were back, he remembered it. He didn’t even dislike the guy; Warrehn was right that they already had the beginnings of a familial bond, which would undoubtedly become stronger with more exposure and time. No, the problem was that he didn’t know what Warrehn expected him to be. He had a feeling that Warrehn had built up his missing little brother into some kind of angel, something Eridan definitely wasn’t.
And in his current state of mind, Eridan wasn’t sure he could manage to pretend to be someone he wasn’t.
“There used to be old statues in this hall,” Warrehn volunteered, something pained flickering across his grim face. “Mother loved them.”
Eridan looked away, feeling irrationally guilty for not remembering it. “All I remember of her is her hair—and her voice,” he said. “She had a very pretty voice, didn’t she? I think.”
“Yes,” Warrehn said, radiating relief. “Kind of like yours, but higher. You look a lot like her.”
Eridan pursed his lips, looking around the vast hall. “Could you show me my room? I’m kind of tired.” And overwhelmed. And freaked out. And so very lost.
It all still felt so surreal, but it was real, and it was happening. He couldn’t believe he really was going to live in this palace from now on, with his brother. With his brother who actually wanted him.
The mere notion seemed strange. It should have made him happy—Eridan had wanted to belong all his life—but it just made him feel weird,
as if it was an absurd dream he would wake up from at any moment, to his Master criticizing him for being a sleepyhead and skipping his morning meditation.
Eridan pursed his lips.
Desperately looking for something to focus on, he said, “Where is the regent and her son? Did you kick them out already?”
A shadow crossed Warrehn’s face. “No. It’s impossible for now. They are still living here.”
Eridan blinked in confusion. “What? Why?”
Warrehn grimaced. “It’s a long story.”
He seemed reluctant to talk about it, so Eridan let it go, figuring he would find out soon enough. He wasn’t all that interested in the inner workings of the Fifth Royal House, truth be told. His Master would disapprove of his lack of ambition, no doubt. If Castien were here, he would—
Eridan winced and took a deep breath. Breathed out.
Focus, dammit.
“There’s no proof anyway,” Warrehn said with a deep scowl on his face. “She’s had all her tracks covered. The evidence against her is circumstantial at best. It would be my word against hers, and my memories will be easily dismissed as the delusions of a traumatized child that just misheard something. She has so many friends in the Council. My own people adore her and her son.”
Eridan frowned, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. “Is that why they’re still living here? Because you don’t want them to gain more public sympathy?”
“Yes. Rohan advised it. I hate politics, so I trust his judgment.”
Eridan hummed thoughtfully. “He’s not wrong. If she plays her cards right, she might cause a civil war.”
Sighing, Warrehn raked a hand through his hair. “I fucking hate it. Why can’t it ever be simple?”
Eridan’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. Yeah. “I’ll deal with her if you want.”
Warrehn looked at him with a frown. He somehow seemed both worried and pleased. “Are you sure? She’s very slippery.”
Eridan gave a chuckle. “Then I’ll feel right at home. After the High Hronthar, she’ll be nothing.”
Warrehn didn’t exactly look reassured, his heavy eyebrows drawing close. “Was it that bad? The High Hronthar?”
Eridan shrugged. “It’s not an easy place to grow up in, but I had it easier than many. Master’s early preliminary claim kind of isolated me, but it protected me too. No one dared to bully me.” Not physically. Verbal and emotional abuse was another matter entirely, but Eridan knew he’d really had it easy compared to some other throwbacks. “I’m lucky I didn’t end up in the servicing department.”
“Servicing department?” Warrehn said. “Is that what I think it is?”
Eridan hesitated. “I’m not really supposed to talk to an outsider about—”
“Eridan,” Warrehn said, boring his blue eyes into him. “You do realize that you are an ‘outsider’ now, too, right?”
Eridan looked at him blankly before averting his gaze.
Right.
Thankfully, the click of heels on the polished floor saved him from responding.
Eridan turned his head and found himself looking at the regent. Or rather, the former regent.
He’d seen her pictures before, of course, but she looked even more stunning in person. Dark-violet hair, dark-blue eyes and milky skin made her look younger. She must be pushing sixty, middle-aged by Calluvian standards, but she didn’t look a day over forty.
She smiled upon meeting Eridan’s gaze and bowed gracefully, radiating warmth. “You must be Eruadarhd! Or do you prefer Eridan? How fortunate it is that Warrehn found you so quickly after his return home! Now we all can be a happy family again.”
Eridan blinked.
He looked at Warrehn, confused. After Warrehn’s words, he had expected a cold, calculating woman, not… not this.
Frowning, Warrehn shook his head slightly. “How did you know that I found my brother?”
Dalatteya smiled, her warm gaze still on Eridan. “I just spoke with the High Adept. He was kind enough to warn me of your arrival, Eridan.”
Oh.
Eridan’s suspicions were confirmed correct when Dalatteya’s gaze shifted to Warrehn. Her expression considerably cooled, a hard glint appearing in her eyes, though she was still smiling. “I’m very happy for you, nephew.”
Warrehn’s answering smile was more of a feral grimace, all teeth and no warmth. “I’m sure you are, Aunt Dalatteya. If you’ll excuse us. My brother is tired.”
“Of course,” Dalatteya said, looking at Eridan warmly. “But you absolutely must come down for dinner, Eridan. My Samir will be delighted to see you, I’m sure.”
Eridan smiled back. “Thank you, I’m very much looking forward to it.”
He and Warrehn strode away from the woman.
When they were no longer in hearing distance, Warrehn said, “What the fuck? Did Idhron screw with her mind to make her be nice to you?”
Eridan told himself he should be horrified. He told himself brainwashing was the most terrible thing that could happen to a person, no matter how bad they were. But he couldn’t quite eradicate the shameful warmth that curled in his stomach. Maybe his Master cared for him, in his own horrible, messed up way. The next moment, he felt angry with himself for entertaining such thoughts. Stop. Just stop.
Looking away, Eridan said, “You accused Master of brainwashing me, but that was what brainwashing looks like, Warrehn. It doesn’t quite look natural. Brainwashed people can’t even think critically of the subject of their brainwashing; they lose all their agency. If my Master brainwashed me, I wouldn’t even be able to argue with him.”
When Warrehn didn’t say anything, Eridan looked at him.
Warrehn had a strange expression on his face.
“What?”
Warrehn pursed his lips briefly. “Stop calling him Master, kid. He’s the High Adept of the High Hronthar; that’s all. If we’re unlucky, we’ll see him a few times a year at some official functions. He’s not your Master anymore. He’s no one to you.”
Eridan averted his gaze. “I know that,” he said tersely.
Warrehn sighed. “Do you?” he murmured before stopping in front of a door. “This one is yours. If you don’t like the room, you can choose any other, obviously. My bedroom is two doors down the corridor.”
Eridan gave a clipped nod. “Thanks.” He entered the room and shut the door behind himself.
He looked around.
The bedroom was large and beautiful, decorated in neutral colors. There was a huge walk-in closet full of different types of clothes, approximately his size. They all looked brand new. Warrehn must have ordered those to be made for him.
Eridan would have been touched by his thoughtfulness if there wasn’t a cold, hollow feeling in his chest, worsening now that he was alone with his thoughts.
He drew a deep breath of air in through his nose and held it in his lungs as he sank to the floor of his huge closet. He pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly.
He had no reason to feel this way.
He should be happy.
He was happy.
He’s not your Master anymore. He’s no one to you.
Today was the start of his new life. His real life. He finally had a family. A brother who wanted him. Who cared for him. He should be ecstatic.
If we’re unlucky, we’ll see him a few times a year at some official functions.
Eridan’s eyes burned. He squeezed them shut.
It was fine.
He was fine.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Masks
Warrehn paced the terrace adjoining the ballroom where a party was in full swing.
Pacing was an old habit from the time he had been a boy, an angry boy confined to Lehr Manor. The angrier or more worried he got, the stronger was the desire to do something, to act, and pacing worked like a moving meditation of sorts. It helped him think.
He was worried for his brother.
His brother.
Part of him still couldn’t believe
he’d found him, after almost two decades.
Eridan wasn’t really what Warrehn had expected his little brother to grow up into. Little Eri had been an adorable child, kind and quick to smile. Not that Eridan wasn’t kind, per se. Warrehn was sure he was, under all the prickliness. But the brightness of his eyes… It was completely missing.
At first, Warrehn had told himself that it was natural. All little boys grew up into men eventually, and it was natural for a child to lose their happy personality as they aged.
But as days shifted into months, Warrehn wasn’t sure anymore that it was a natural state of mind for Eridan. It wasn’t as though his brother was distant or detached; no, it was something else. Eridan had shown interest in getting to know him and fixing Warrehn’s shaky political situation. He’d even volunteered to take on the royal duties Warrehn hated: things like going to balls and making nice with other members of the Council. Despite growing up in a monastery, Eridan was still loads better at socializing than Warrehn could ever hope to be, and over the past few months, had quickly become a media darling.
“I don’t get why you’re worried, War,” Rohan said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was watching the ballroom from a chair on the terrace, sipping his drink idly. “He’s good at being a prince. He certainly looks more comfortable than you.”
Warrehn scowled. “I’m not sure how real it is,” he said, eyeing his brother. Eridan was smiling as he danced with some foreign politician, but there was something wrong about that smile. It made alarm bells sound in Warrehn’s head. “Our familial bond has become stronger, and I sense something off. His emotions don’t match his smiles.”
“You think he’s faking it?” Rohan said, his dark eyes focusing on Eridan in contemplation.
Warrehn brushed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know. I don’t know him well enough to know what his normal is.”
“You spent a month with him in a tiny safe house,” Rohan said.