Prince's Master (Calluvia's Royalty 4)

“That’s messed up.”

“Maybe,” Rohan said with a laugh. “But I can’t say I’m unhappy about it. Don’t get me wrong: Mehmer seems like a nice enough man, but I’m glad he’ll live on another planet. I don’t want him anywhere near Jamil and our daughter. It’s bad enough already that my daughter will always carry his name.”

“It won’t matter if she’ll know the truth.”

Rohan’s gaze softened. “She will. She does. Our familial bond is very strong already.” He smiled faintly, his dark eyes fond. “Her face lights up when she sees me. It’s—it’s the most incredible feeling, War.”

Warrehn averted his eyes. He was happy for his best friend. He was. Rohan was his brother in all but blood. But he couldn’t deny that he felt… lonely when he saw how happy and in love Rohan was. Rohan now had his own family to think about besides being the governor of Tai’Lehr. Being engaged to the Crown Prince of the Third Grand Clan was time-consuming as far as social obligations went, so Rohan was rarely around.

Warrehn had never thought he would feel like an outsider on his own home planet, in his own grand clan—that he would feel like a usurper in his own home. He was the King, but he often felt like he was a fraud.

Having his little brother back helped, of course, but he and Eridan still weren’t exactly close. Two decades apart couldn’t be magically erased, no matter how hard they both tried. There were things about his brother that he would never understand, and vice versa.

Damn it, why couldn’t things ever be simple?

The sound of the door opening tore him out of his thoughts.

“Warrehn?”

It was Eridan, looking curiously between him and Rohan. A strange expression appeared on his face, but then it was gone, his violet eyes clear of any emotion.

They made Warrehn’s chest tight every time, those eyes. They were just like their mother’s. Eridan looked a lot like her in general, inheriting her grace and refined features. Looking back, Warrehn now knew that was why he’d been uncharacteristically soft with the kid back at the safe house: he’d reminded him of his mother. He hadn’t connected it with his brother at the time: he’d come to accept that his brother was dead, and in his mind, little Eri would always look like a chubby-cheeked kid.

Well, he was no longer the chubby-cheeked kid, but an uncommonly beautiful young man—something Warrehn was reminded of every time unbonded Calluvians and foreigners all but drooled looking at his brother.

“Eri?” Warrehn said. “Did you want something?”

“Yes,” Eridan said. “I want you to stop hiding here and actually mingle with people. If you keep avoiding socializing, people will never get used to you.”

Warrehn grimaced. “I hate socializing.”

Eridan rolled his eyes with a crooked little smile. “You hate a lot of things. But you’ll have to suck it up and do it. Come on, it won’t kill you. Lord Tai’Lehr, please tell him I’m right.”

“You’re right,” Rohan said with an amused look.

“Traitor,” Warrehn muttered.

“Don’t be such a grouch,” Eridan said. “If I didn’t know that you aren’t even thirty yet, I’d never believe it. You are like a grumpy old man.”

Warrehn sighed, running a hand over his face. “Eridan—”

“Shut up and come with me. If I have to suffer through this, so do you.”

Frowning, Warrehn followed him back into the ballroom. “You don’t actually enjoy this?” Although he had suspected it, he wasn’t exactly happy to have his suspicions confirmed.

Eridan snorted softly. “I didn’t have a single friend in the Order, Warrehn. Most of my peers resented me. So no, socializing doesn’t come easily to me. I’m just much better at faking it than you are.”

That wasn’t reassuring at all.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Warrehn said.

“Someone has to,” Eridan said with a bright smile that made something in Warrehn’s chest twist. “Dalatteya and her son have everyone’s sympathy on their side and they’re more than willing to play politics even if you don’t. Master always says—” He cut himself off and cleared his throat a little. “Anyway, if we aren’t careful, we are going to be kicked out of our own palace.”

Warrehn’s lips thinned. It had been months, but Eridan still called Idhron Master. The word grated on Warrehn’s nerves. He couldn’t help but associate it with slavery and servitude. He understood that it wasn’t the case, but it still rubbed him the wrong way.

Not to mention that the way Eridan said the word made him uneasy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he didn’t like it.

At least things weren’t as bad as they had been months ago, when all Eridan said was Master this and Master that. Now the word appeared less frequently, but Warrehn couldn’t help but notice that his brother became more closed off as the word gradually dropped out of his vocabulary.