Prince's Master (Calluvia's Royalty 4)

Eridan scrunched up his nose and chuckled. “Yeah, let’s make a bad situation worse. I have nothing to lose, I guess.”

“No,” Castien said. “Your return to the Order can be spun in a positive light. We have many media outlets under our control. Pushing the narrative we want will not be difficult. You will be protected from public scorn.”

Eridan scoffed at Castien’s unashamedly corrupt ways, but he couldn’t erase the warm feeling that curled in his stomach. He had missed this: this feeling of absolute security and trust. He trusted that his Master would protect him, always, by any means necessary. No matter how much he and Warrehn had grown close, he hadn’t felt a fraction of such trust and safety in months.

Warrehn.

“I can’t abandon my brother,” Eridan said, lifting his head.

Castien heaved a sigh. “You would hardly abandon him, Eridan. You can get from Hronthar to this palace in less than an hour.”

“I guess,” Eridan said, frowning. “It still doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t have anyone but me, and this palace still isn’t home for him. Dalatteya and her son hate him.” He narrowed his eyes at Castien. “Speaking of which, can’t you make her like Warrehn, too? Like you did with her attitude towards me?”

Castien hummed, stroking his back absent-mindedly. “It is not that simple. I have carefully manipulated her mind for years, in preparation for your eventual ascension to the throne. I wanted to make her harmless when it came to you. But your brother… I had not even known that he was still alive until a few years ago. And even if I knew he was alive, I obviously would not have bothered to make Dalatteya predisposed to like him. Your brother’s death would have been convenient for me.”

Eridan wished he could be angry, and part of him was, but mostly he just felt exasperated. He’d had no delusions about his Master. He had known what kind of a man he was when he fell in love with him. At least Castien was being honest. That was something, he supposed.

“You’re a terrible person,” Eridan said with a sigh, kissing the hollow of Castien’s throat. “I guess I’m a terrible person, too, for loving you anyway.”

Castien’s arms tightened around him.

“Will you come home with me?” he said, his voice not quite steady.

Eridan smiled and spoke against his neck.

“Yes, Master.”

Chapter Thirty-Two: Peace

For a moment, Warrehn thought he had misheard. Surely his brother couldn’t be saying what he thought he was saying.

“What?” he said.

Eridan was blushing, radiating guilt. “I’m going back to High Hronthar,” he said. “I will be Master’s apprentice again.”

Warrehn narrowed his eyes. “Apprentice,” he said skeptically.

Eridan blushed harder, glancing back at Idhron. “Well… Yes, apprentice.”

Idhron stepped forward, laying a hand on Eridan’s shoulder.

Warrehn couldn’t help but notice how possessive that gesture was. He bristled, but Eridan seemed to lean into the touch, his telepathic presence becoming warmer and lighter.

Warrehn stared at him and realized that he had never before seen his brother happy. Truly, genuinely happy.

The thought was gut-wrenching, but Warrehn couldn’t be upset by such an abundance of happiness. He took a deep breath and let it out. Calm. He could be calm. His brother’s happiness was more important than his own disappointment.

He looked Idhron in the eye and said, “You will take care of him. If you ever hurt him—”

“I won’t,” Idhron said simply. “I will not allow any harm to come to my apprentice.”

Apprentice. Right.

“And when he isn’t your apprentice anymore?” Warrehn said.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Eridan looking at Idhron, too, waiting for his answer.

“He will always be mine,” Idhron said, his hand on Eridan’s shoulder tightening. “Whether he is twenty, fifty, or a hundred years old.” Idhron’s eyes were dead serious. Warrehn probed him mentally, and, try as he might, he could sense nothing but sincerity.

Warrehn sighed, running a hand over his face and hair. “Eridan, could you leave us for a moment? Just for a moment.”

Eridan hesitated, looking between them, and then nodded and left.

Once they were alone, Warrehn looked at Idhron grimly. “How am I supposed to be okay with my brother, a prince and my only heir, being your fuck-toy?”

Idhron’s jaw clenched, something dark and dangerous appearing in his telepathic presence. “I have had plenty of ‘fuck-toys.’ Eridan is not one of them.”

“Then what is he to you?” Warrehn ground out. “Are you saying you’ll give him a family? That you’ll give him children?” Were the mind adepts of the Order even allowed to have children?

Something flickered in Idhron’s eyes. Warrehn had the strangest feeling that this was the first time the idea had even occurred to him.

Idhron was silent for a moment, a contemplative look on his face.

“You know nothing about the Order,” he said at last. “We have lineages that function in the same way traditional families function for you. We may not be related by blood, but we do take care of our own.” He shrugged. “However, there are Masters that have traditional families and children. I am not very fond of children, but if Eridan wants to have some…” Something wistful appeared in his expression. “I am not entirely opposed. In any case, that is something that is between Eridan and me.” He looked Warrehn in the eye. “I understand that you are his brother and that you worry for him. But you have nothing to worry about. He is no longer the child you entrusted to me nineteen years ago. He is capable of thinking for himself and he knows what kind of a man I am. Frankly, your concern is ridiculous. Eridan has an abundance of power over me, because I will do anything to keep him safe and pleased. He is—he’s my greatest weakness.” Idhron’s expression became tight, as if the word was physically painful for him to say.