Eridan pursed his lips, feeling very much alone. He had thought—hoped—that once he became one of them, he would feel more included, but he still didn’t quite fit in, even after more than a year as an official apprentice. Most of the time, Eridan didn’t mind—he didn’t spend enough time with the other apprentices to care—but the chasm between him and them became glaringly obvious when his Master was away and Eridan was forced to spend his time with them.
Salah looked at him with barely contained disdain. “I’m sure he’s moping because he misses Master Idhron. We all know what a big baby Eridan is.”
Eridan gave him a pleasant smile. “There’s no need to sound so jealous, Salah. It’s not my fault your Master doesn’t give a shit about you.”
An angry flush appeared on Salah’s face. Honestly, it was kind of hilarious that all these hypocrites acted as though they were so much better than him just because they could fake humility, control over their emotions, and obedience better than him.
“You’re delusional if you think Master Idhron cares about you,” Salah said. “Master Idhron doesn’t care about anyone, much less about an overly emotional, disobedient failure of an apprentice he was saddled with.”
Eridan counted to ten. Calm. He could be calm.
“My Master chose me,” he said evenly.
Salah snorted. “Come on, we all know how you got him to choose you.” He leered, looking at Eridan’s lips. “You must be exceptionally talented at cock-sucking to make him forget what a failure of an initiate you were—”
Something hot exploded in Eridan’s chest. Before he knew what he was doing, Salah was writhing on the floor, his hands clawing at his throat frantically as an invisible grip constricted his lungs, squeezing.
There were shouts, and then, “Apprentice Idhron! Cease this at once!”
***
Eridan stared sullenly at the desk in the Grandmaster’s office.
“This is your fourth such transgression, Apprentice Idhron,” Grandmaster Tethru said gravely, closing Eridan’s file.
Eridan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hated the grandfatherly act Tethru put on. It didn’t suit him. There was no grandfatherly bone in Tethru’s body. Privately, Eridan thought Tethru just tried to act like Grandmaster Kato, who had actually been ancient and grandfatherly. Eridan kind of missed the old man: he’d actually smiled sometimes.
“Yes, Grandmaster,” Eridan said in his meekest voice. Tethru didn’t tolerate disrespect. He also liked it when people called him by his title and acted as submissive as possible around him. Eridan despised the man, but he knew better than to show it. His Master had taught him better.
“I see that in the past Grandmaster Kato left it at Master Idhron’s discretion to handle your punishment, but I will not be as lenient—”
“When is Master coming back?” Eridan said before he could stop himself.
Grandmaster Tethru gave him a withering look.
Eridan hastily dropped his gaze. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, Your Grace,” he mumbled in his most respectful voice. “You know how much I respect you.” For a moment, he was afraid he was laying it on a bit thick, but he could faintly feel Tethru’s satisfaction at his words. Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Eridan said, “I’m just… somewhat concerned, Grandmaster. Master said he would come back in a month, but he still isn’t back. He hasn’t contacted me, either.”
“Hmm,” Tethru said, looking at him with his shrewd eyes. “I see now what Master Deira meant when she said that you are too attached to your Master, Eridan. Perhaps... Perhaps reassigning you to a different Master is the key to correcting your behavior.”
Panic flared inside him. Swallowing his instinctive No, Eridan forced his voice to sound calm as he said, “No Master would want an apprentice who has a training bond with another Master.”
Tethru smiled genially. “Training bonds are breakable, Eridan. I am sure there are Masters that would be willing to overlook that your mind was touched by another Master.” His eyes swept over Eridan. “Perhaps I can find time for you myself.”
Eridan felt dirty just from his gaze. “With all due respect, Grandmaster, I’m too old to easily switch to a different Master.”
“Hmm. How old are you, again?”
“Twenty, Your Grace,” Eridan said. Too old for you, you pervert.
Tethru raised his eyebrows. “You do not look it.”
Eridan suppressed the urge to scowl. He was perfectly aware that he looked younger, his features too pretty and refined to be considered manly. It was the curse of most throwbacks. Eridan knew he looked like he was sixteen instead of his