Eridan wandered out onto the terrace and sat down on an ancient stone bench. Pulling his knees to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and stared out into the darkening sky. The twin moons were rising.
All these years, since he was seven, he had tried so hard to be better, to prove to Castien Idhron that he was good enough, but it was clearly futile. He would always have qualities undesirable for an apprentice: he was too emotional, too temperamental, too proud, too squeamish. He would never become a good mind adept if he was so squeamish about a simple joint meditation—if a shallow contact with an unfamiliar telepath made him want to puke and run to his Master like a big baby.
“Eridan?”
He flinched and turned his head, his eyes widening when he saw Castien walking toward him briskly. “What is wrong?” the older man said, his inscrutable gaze sweeping over him.
“What do you mean?”
His Master gave him an impatient look. “You were projecting misery so strongly it was probably obvious to everyone in the area, much less to me. What is the matter?”
Eridan shrugged and dropped his gaze. “Master Tker will probably complain to you soon enough. There’s no point in making you listen to this twice. You should go back to the Chapter meeting, Master.”
He could feel Castien’s intent gaze on the side of his face.
“I take it your meditation with Master Tker did not go well?”
Eridan snorted humorlessly, putting his chin on his knees. “You could say that. He’ll probably tell you to ditch me.” He smiled crookedly. “And he would probably be right.”
Silence.
At last, he felt his Master sit beside him on the bench. “You will look at me when I speak to you.”
Reluctantly, Eridan did.
They just looked at each other for a while. Castien’s expression was as unreadable as ever, but Eridan could sense… he could sense something like displeasure through their bond, only stronger.
“Did he hurt you?” Castien said stiffly. “You feel… odd.”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Eridan said. “I just hated it. I feel dirty on the inside.”
Castien’s lips pressed into a thin line. He looked away for a moment before sighing and looking back at Eridan. He put his hand on Eridan’s nape carefully, his thumb pressing over his telepathic center.
Eridan shivered, eager.
Finally, Castien pushed inside. A small sigh of relief left Eridan’s mouth as his Master’s cool, familiar presence washed over him, chasing away the lingering slimy, wrong feeling.
He made a protesting noise when Castien pulled out. “Master—”
“I have to return to the meeting,” Castien said. “Go back to the house and wait for me. We need to talk.”
Eridan eyed him in confusion. He didn’t understand him at all sometimes. Whenever he started thinking that he had Castien Idhron all figured out, his Master kept completely surprising him. Although Castien wasn’t a kind man at all, sometimes he could be… almost kind. Eridan tried to think of any ulterior motive Castien might have for this kindness, but he couldn’t think of any way this would benefit him. Though Eridan couldn’t be sure Castien wasn’t just postponing his reprimands until they were in the privacy of his mansion.
“All right, Master,” he said, giving Castien a small, tentative smile.
A muscle twitched in Castien’s jaw. He stood and strode away, his dark robe billowing after him.
Eridan went home.
Home. It felt strange that he had already started thinking of Master Castien’s mansion as home.
It was probably inadvisable, but Eridan couldn’t help himself. It was his safe place. No one mocked him, hated him, looked down on him or sneered at him in his Master’s house. He was largely left to his own devices, and by an unspoken agreement, he was in charge of the house when his Master wasn’t there.
Eridan went to his Master’s study and curled up in the chair by the fireplace. Its warmth was comforting. Although Calluvia didn’t have winters like most other planets did—the climate was artificially regulated—it was always rather chilly up in the mountains, and sitting by the fireplace in Castien’s study had become Eridan’s favorite pastime. His Master didn’t seem to mind as long as he was quiet.
He wasn’t sure when he had dozed off, but he must have, because the next thing he knew, his Master was shaking him awake.
“Eridan.”
He opened his eyes blearily, his mind still hazy with sleep. “Master,” he murmured, reaching out to run his fingers over Castien’s firm jawline. The older man’s stubble prickled his skin. “Are you angry with me? You feel angry.”
Castien straightened and stepped back. “I am never ‘angry,’ Eridan.”
Eridan yawned and sat up straighter, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “So you’re ‘displeased’ with me.”
“That would be correct. Master Tker spoke to me.”
Eridan scowled. “I’m not letting him inside my mind again.” He met Castien’s eyes. “If you keep insisting on it, you might as well send me away to the servicing department right now, Master. I’m not doing it again. Understood?”