is, you can’t do anything to us. It’s not in your interests to tell the Council where the rebels’ base is. You don’t want us to be found. That would destroy the social order the High Hronthar spent millennia establishing. If other Calluvians see how much stronger we are, they will be scared. There will likely be war, and Calluvians won’t want to be shackled by their childhood bonds anymore while the hated ‘rebels’ are so much stronger. You will lose the unlimited power you now enjoy.”
Castien’s eyes grew colder. “Then why should I do anything for you if it all ends the same way, either way?”
Rohan seemed to hesitate, his expression rather pinched.
“We could help each other,” he said.
Eridan frowned. He hadn’t expected that at all.
Judging by Warrehn and Sirri’s bewildered gazes, they hadn’t, either.
Rohan ignored them all, looking only at Castien. “The difference is, if you help us restore our reputation, we won’t remind the Council of the original reason our ancestors rebelled. We won’t remind them of the ex-member of the High Hronthar who was disgusted by his Order’s thirst for power, by the web of deception the Order wove for the Council, using their fears against them. If the Council actually accepts Tai’Lehrians, there will be no war, and if there is no war against powerful telepaths, Calluvians will have little reason to want to break their bonds. We’ll leave the Order alone, and you’ll be able to keep most of your power if you play your cards right.”
Sirri made a protesting noise and Warrehn glared at Rohan, but Rohan ignored them again.
Eridan was confused. Who was Rohan? Why was he negotiating on behalf of Tai’Lehr?
His Master seemed to know who he was dealing with and was similarly ignoring the other two. Eridan could sense Castien was actually considering Rohan’s offer seriously.
“As a show of goodwill, we’ll let your apprentice go,” Rohan said, ignoring the protesting noise from Warrehn this time. “Think about my offer. Working together would be beneficial for both of us. It’s the only way that doesn’t involve heavy losses for both of us.”
Slowly, Castien nodded. “I shall think about it,” he said before finally looking at Eridan. “Eridan.” Come here, he said more softly through the bond, softer than he’d talked to him in months.
Eridan couldn’t help but smile at him.
His feet moved forward without conscious thought. He grabbed his Master’s wrist, the simple contact making him shiver.
Castien activated his transponder, and they both teleported away.
Chapter Eighteen: Snapped
Eridan wasn’t sure what he had expected when they reappeared in the monastery, but it wasn’t for Castien to tell him coldly, “Go to Hronthar. I have work here.”
And then, with a swish of his brown robes, he left.
Eridan stared at his retreating back, his heart somewhere at his feet.
All right. So much for getting a hug or a simple “welcome back.”
He felt stupidly blindsided, and he had no one to blame but himself. How many times would his Master make it clear that he didn’t care for him? How many times would he be treated like dirt before his world would finally stop revolving around that cold, heartless man?
Anger filled his senses, and Eridan let it. Anger was better than this pathetic, achy feeling in his chest.
Screw him.
He hated him. He hated him, hated him, hated him.
* * *
Eridan worked himself up into such a rage that by the time Castien came back to the castle, he was itching for a confrontation. Initially, he had wanted to give Castien the cold shoulder, except it wasn’t satisfying enough. He had been giving him the cold shoulder for months, to no effect. No, that wasn’t enough. He was burning for a fight, for a—
“What do you want, Eridan?” Castien said as he walked into his own bedroom. He put the case he was carrying on the floor, without looking at Eridan.
Eridan glared at him, his heart pounding with rage. “Screw you, Master,” he said with relish and enjoyed the way Castien’s cold eyes narrowed a little.
“I see you are in a mood,” he said.
“I can’t imagine why,” Eridan said. “Is it so hard to say: I’m glad you’re back, Eridan. I was worried. How did they treat you? Are you hurt?” He chuckled harshly. “But no, that would require you to actually give a damn.”
“Do not test my patience, Eridan.”
Eridan walked over and glared up at him. Although he wasn’t short, he was still half a head shorter than Castien. He’d never minded before, but now