Prince's Master (Calluvia's Royalty 4)

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.”