always telling me that my loud, distasteful emotions distract you?”
Castien eyed him for a long moment before saying quietly, “What is wrong, Eridan?”
Eridan’s throat closed up. A part of him wanted to punch his Master in the face and walk out. A part of him, the part that wasn’t simmering with rage, hurt, and betrayal, wanted to hide in his Master’s arms and be comforted. A part of him wanted to pretend he hadn’t found out that his life was a lie, that the man who had been his world considered him just a disposable pawn.
“I know everything, Master,” he said quietly.
Castien went very still. “Pardon?” he said, his voice careful and his eyes guarded.
“I know who I am,” Eridan said hoarsely. “I know why you took me on as an apprentice.”
He had thought Castien would at least have the decency to look guilty, but he couldn’t sense any guilt—just resignation and the same strange tension he could sense back at the palace.
Castien regarded him calmly for a moment and gestured to the seat opposite him. “Sit.”
“I don’t want to,” Eridan said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Castien sighed. “I suppose you are angry,” he said, his gaze on his salad.
Eridan laughed harshly. “You could say that. I feel like an idiot. Like the biggest idiot in the world. I guess it’s my own fault—for thinking that I could trust you. That you gave a shit about me.”
Castien’s expression became slightly pinched. “I have never lied to you, Eridan,” he said, his eyes still on his meal. “It is hardly my fault that you attributed to me qualities I am not capable of.”
“You’re right,” Eridan said with a brittle smile. “I’m angry, but mostly at myself, for being so stupid. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore with my disgusting, illogical emotions.”
Castien’s shoulders tensed. He lifted his gaze, his blue eyes wary. “What do you mean? Are you leaving?”
Eridan snorted. “Where would I go?” he said bitterly. “To my dead family?”
Something flickered in Castien’s eyes. He said nothing.
“I guess I could go to the Fifth Royal Palace, try to claim my inheritance. But while I’m not of age to rule, that would be largely pointless, as I would be at the mercy of the regent who I bet had a hand in my parents’ and brother’s deaths.” Eridan paused, taking a deep breath. He gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “I will stay here until I’m of age, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Just like you planned all along.”
Castien’s face was unreadable but his telepathic presence was tense and agitated. “I could erase your memories of this,” he said conversationally.
“You could,” Eridan said, hating himself for not even considering this as an option, hating himself for still trusting this man not to hurt him. “But why would you do this? I will be following your plan to the letter, after all. You lost nothing, Master. Nothing but my stupid affections.”
Castien’s jaw clenched. “Eridan—”
“Don’t worry, Master,” he said. “I will not disrespect you in public. You are still my Master. From now on, I promise to respect your boundaries and try to imitate the behavior of other apprentices. I will be so quiet you will barely even notice me anymore.” He smiled wanly. “You will finally get the unemotional, respectful apprentice you have always wanted.”
He got a weird, twisted kind of pleasure from seeing the shift in Castien’s expression.
Good.
This was the only weapon he had.
Eridan wasn’t sure Castien would even care if he put distance between them—in fact, it was very likely that Castien would be pleased—but this was something that he could take away. Maybe his affection and his trust didn’t matter to Castien, but they did matter to Eridan, and taking them away would at least preserve some of his pride and self-respect when his Master inevitably threw him away like a used thing.
And maybe, just maybe, the distance would help him eradicate this terrible, irrational yearning inside his heart.
Please, he thought, pleading to whatever deity might listen. Please.
Interlude
Irrene was getting desperate.
Her boss was in an absolutely foul mood.
Some people might scoff at the mere notion of Castien Idhron having moods, but Irrene knew better. Over the year since she’d become the new Grandmaster’s secretary, she’d seen Master Castien in several different moods. Roughly seventy percent of the time, he was absolutely calm and unflappable. Twenty-five percent of the time, he was mildly irritated. And five percent of the time, Irrene was