Castien’s office, their telepathic presence strangely familiar.
It took him a moment to place it.
Warrehn.
Warrehn was in Castien’s office.
Eridan frowned, confused. What was that rebel, the new King of the Fifth Grand Clan, doing here?
Ignoring Irrene, he pushed the heavy door open and entered the room.
Castien was seated behind his desk, his expression inscrutable. If Eridan couldn’t sense his emotions, he would have never even guessed that he had them.
Warrehn was pacing the room, radiating rage and something else.
His head snapped toward Eridan, and he came to an abrupt halt, just looking at him, his blue eyes strangely bright.
Warrehn opened his mouth and closed it, his throat bobbing. “Eri?” he finally croaked out.
Eridan blinked and looked at him in bewilderment. He looked at Castien, feeling lost.
His Master just looked back, something very strange in his gaze.
“I know it’s you,” Warrehn said hoarsely. “I felt—I started feeling something like a faint familial bond by the time you left, but I thought I was imagining it.”
Eridan tore his gaze from Castien’s and looked at Warrehn. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Warrehn.”
Warrehn took a step toward him.
Eridan felt Castien tense up, but he remained seated.
“Rohan just told me that you are my brother,” Warrehn said, looking at Eridan intently. “I feel like an idiot for not realizing it myself. You look so much like our mother.”
Eridan laughed a little. “What? I’m not your brother.”
Warrehn frowned. “Rohan said you knew. He said you already knew that you were a prince of the Fifth Grand Clan.”
Eridan shook his head, feeling a dull headache. Something niggled at the back of his mind, a sense of wrongness. “What are you talking about?” he whispered, his heart beating fast. “What does Rohan’ngh’lavere have to do with this?”
Warrehn scowled, shooting a glare at Castien. “Hasn’t he told you that he blackmailed Rohan into remaining silent about the High Hronthar’s true motivations and power?”
Eridan looked at Castien. “Master?”
Castien looked down before clarifying, “Lord Tai’Lehr is in a clandestine relationship with Prince Jamil. By revealing that Prince Jamil’s husband was not actually dead, I made sure that Lord Tai’Lehr needed me to support the divorce bill he would want to push, to free his lover from the unwanted marriage.”
Eridan frowned. Now it made sense why Castien had let Prince-Consort Mehmer go home, but he still wasn’t sure what that had to do with Rohan claiming that Eridan was a prince—and Warrehn’s brother.
As though reading his thoughts, Warrehn said, “Prince Ksar told Rohan about you—Ksar learned about your identity in Idhron’s memories, and Ksar said you were aware of it.” He frowned. “But you didn’t know? I don’t get it. How could Ksar have been wrong about it? He’s a Seven.”
Eridan stared at him. Something was wrong. He could sense that Warrehn was being completely serious and honest—he somehow knew that he was telling the truth, but… But he had no memories of it.
His stomach sinking, he looked at Castien.
Castien looked back, something uneasy about his telepathic presence.
“You…” Eridan whispered. “You erased my memories of it, didn’t you?”
Castien’s silence said it all.
Something inside Eridan—it felt a lot like hope—shriveled up and died. His throat closed up. “When?” he managed. “How much did you erase?”
“You bastard—”
Eridan lifted his hand, stopping Warrehn. “No. I want to hear it. He owes answers to me, not you.” He glared at Castien. “I’m waiting.”
Castien leaned back in his chair, his gaze heavy with something Eridan couldn’t quite identify. “About a month ago. All I did was erase from your mind the knowledge of your birth name. That is all, Eridan.”
Eridan glowered at him. “Why?”
Castien averted his gaze for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working. “There was no point. With your brother’s return and ascension to the throne, the Order had little to gain from returning you to the Fifth Royal House. I didn’t spend four years training you just to give you up for nothing.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” Warrehn growled out. “My brother was never yours to give up. Eridan, let’s go before I punch that asshole.”
Castien didn’t even glance at him, his eyes back on Eridan. “Eridan—”
“Shut up,” Eridan whispered tightly. His eyes were burning. “I trusted you. Despite everything—despite everything I knew about you—I still trusted you not to mess with my mind.” He laughed bitterly. “I was an idiot to think I was special. Why would I be? Who knows how else you have manipulated me.”
Castien’s shoulders tensed up. “I promise I have not manipulated you in any way.”
Eridan laughed. “I