Eridan came with a muffled moan, sucking on his own fingers.
He didn’t even feel guilty anymore.
He felt wonderful.
Chapter Twelve: The Queen
Of course, that uncertain state of affairs was unlikely to last, but it came to an end in a way Eridan had never expected.
One morning, Castien told him that he was to accompany him to an appointment.
In itself, it was nothing out of the ordinary: as a senior apprentice, Eridan was supposed to learn mind healing by observing his Master’s work.
But when he asked Castien where they were going, the answer surprised him.
“I have an appointment with Prince Jamil’ngh’veighli,” Castien said. “I am the one treating his severed marriage bond.”
Eridan winced. Castien had taught him how to establish and break marriage bonds that bound all the Calluvians, and he knew a snapped bond was painful. Those bonds were not at all like the bond between him and his Master; they were like a spider web, interwoven into one’s mind and blocking entire neural pathways. Having such a bond snapped—which usually happened when one’s bondmate died—was very painful. Of course, Prince-Consort Mehmer wasn’t actually dead, as Prince Jamil believed, but it didn’t change anything. The fact of the matter was, the bond Prince Jamil had had since being a toddler was broken now, causing damage to his mind, which required professional treatment.
And never mind that, unbeknownst to Prince Jamil, the man who was treating him was the one who had snapped his bond.
“You have never seen a broken marriage bond,” his Master said. “Simulations are not the same.” Castien steered him toward the t-chamber, his hand on Eridan’s lower back. “Of course, you will not be allowed into the room while I examine the prince, but if you are close, I will allow you to see what I see in his mind.”
“What about Prince-Consort Mehmer?” he murmured quietly, hyper-aware of his Master’s hand on his back.
“He is Master Sylas’s problem now,” Castien said. He dropped his hand only when they entered the t-chamber. “Third Royal Palace, the Crown Prince’s wing.”
They had to wait a few moments for his appointment with Prince Jamil to be verified before the transport started moving.
Before Eridan could ask for any details, they arrived, and he knew better than to talk about that subject in the Third Royal Palace.
Eridan followed his Master through the vast, luxurious halls of the palace, looking around curiously.
It wasn’t as though Eridan was a stranger to such places. Many of Castien’s properties off-world were grand and lavish, and High Hronthar—the castle, not the Order—was as opulent as this palace. But something about this palace felt different. Eridan could sense the pride of this bloodline, could sense hundreds of generations of this royal family that had left their telepathic marks in these walls. This palace felt old in a way even the monastery or High Hronthar didn’t, even though it wasn’t more ancient than they were.
“It is because of blood,” his Master explained, likely sensing his confusion. “Closely related telepaths have similar telepathic marks. That is the origin of familial bonds: siblings and parents share them because their telepathic presences are similar enough for them to connect. And similar telepathic marks leave stronger impressions as time passes.”
“His Royal Highness will join you momentarily, Your Grace,” the palace AI cut in. “Please wait for him in his office.”
Castien’s lips pursed, and Eridan pulled a face, not envying Prince Jamil in the slightest. His Master hated tardiness.
“Wait for me there,” Castien said, gesturing to the terrace before disappearing into the prince’s office.
Sighing, Eridan did as he was told.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, gazing at the gardens below, before he felt Castien open the bond between them. “Observe,” Castien told him before intertwining their telepathic presences together so that he could see what Castien was seeing in Prince Jamil’s mind.
It was the strangest feeling. It was quite disorienting, so Eridan closed his eyes, but the strangeness of the experience didn’t completely fade. This technique was used rarely for a reason: it was only possible between highly compatible minds.
He watched his Master examine Prince Jamil’s mind, studying the withered remnants of the prince’s marriage bond. He could sense a spark of interest from his Master, as if Castien had encountered something he hadn’t expected. Castien delved deeper, searching. Eridan could also sense Prince Jamil’s growing unease. It seemed he didn’t want Castien to see something in his mind.
Eridan felt a pang of sympathy for the prince. The poor man had recently lost his husband; his mind and his marriage bond were all messed up. Surely he deserved some privacy?
Frowning, Eridan pulled out of the connection and sighed. His Master was going to be angry with him for being too “soft,” but that would be nothing new.
He left the terrace, opened the door to the office, and stuck his head in. “Master, are you done? Can we go already?”