Eridan said. “That would be fruitless, because that gossip blog always phrases things like it isn’t their own opinion and they’re just the messengers. Besides, suing them would only give them more publicity. We should ignore them.”
“But we have to make it known what they wrote about you is bullshit.”
Eridan felt a surge of affection for his brother. Not even once had Warrehn doubted that the article was lying.
“People are going to talk anyway. Let them.”
Warrehn frowned at him. “How are you so calm about it?”
Eridan shrugged with a crooked smile. “Years in the Order made me grow a pretty thick skin. When you’re an apprentice of the Grandmaster, you’re always target of gossip. It isn’t the first time I’ve heard someone insinuate that my Master chose me because I sucked his cock.”
Warrehn flushed, looking deeply uncomfortable. “Eridan…” he said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant for him. “He didn’t… He didn’t force you to—”
“No. Sucking his cock wasn’t the requirement for making me his apprentice, War,” Eridan said calmly, dropping his gaze. “He preliminarily claimed me when I was still a child.”
Look at him, lying without lying.
Eridan suppressed a twinge of guilt, telling himself that such a little lie of omission didn’t matter. Whatever he and Castien had been to each other, it happened years later. And it was over, anyway. It was over.
“The High Adept is here, Your Majesty,” their AI announced.
Eridan tried not to tense up, aware that Warrehn was watching him carefully.
He took a deep breath. “Could you leave us alone, War?”
“Why?”
“There are things he will not talk about with you in the room. The High Hronthar stuff.”
Warrehn pressed his lips together. “I don’t trust him alone with you.”
Eridan chortled a laugh. “Warrehn, I’ve been alone with him for years. I can handle him. I can handle him far better than you can.”
Warrehn scowled but gave a clipped nod and left the room. Eridan could hear him exchange a few terse words with Castien in the hall. Eridan swallowed, his stomach squirming.
Calm. He could be calm. He could calm and collected. He was a prince. He was—
Castien entered the room.
His heavy black robes and boots were the first thing Eridan saw. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of fondness. It seemed Castien still didn’t like wearing the Grandmaster’s white robes.
Slowly, he dragged his gaze upwards, reinforcing his mental shields as his telepathic mark surged forward hungrily.
Their gazes locked, and Eridan licked his dry lips. It felt like his mind was full of white noise, and he couldn’t form any thoughts besides want you-need you-why are you so far away?
Castien stared at Eridan, almost grimly, before finally walking forward.
Eridan got to his feet, his legs distastefully shaky. He felt a heaviness between his legs, slick running down his thighs the closer his Master got. He fucking hated his body.
“Your Grace,” he heard himself say.
Castien glared at him coldly. “Stop addressing me like that. There is no one here but us. If you expect me to address you as Your Highness, you will be waiting for a long time.”
Eridan lifted his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. “But that is what you should address me as,” he said, hating how badly he wanted to step closer to his Master and bury his face against his broad chest, feel his arms around him, and his mind inside his.
“I am not interested in talking to Prince Eruadarhd,” Castien said, stepping closer until they were face to face.
He could smell him, the scent of crisp mountain air, pines, and something else, the scent he associated only with Castien.
Eridan swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue as he tried not to stare at Castien’s firm mouth. He’d never wanted to be kissed so badly in his life. It had been so long.
A muscle twitched in Castien’s jaw. “You are nothing but trouble, even when you are not part of the Order,” he said tersely. “Turn around.”
Eridan turned around.
Only after doing it, did he realize how much the simple action had given away. He hadn’t even thought to question the order.
He felt Castien’s hands in his hair, moving it away and baring his neck.
Eridan caught his bottom lip between his teeth, his stomach doing flip-flops as he felt Castien’s breath on his nape. He was trembling, faintly, his skin oversensitive, his lower body aching with want.
“You are not a member of the Order anymore,” Castien said, his voice pitched low. “You cannot wear it as a thaal.”