Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
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 he hated it. His fingers were balling into fists, and he wanted to hurt him, tear that emotionless mask off that face with his fingernails. “I hate you,” he said, looking him in the eyes. “I can’t believe I was actually looking forward to seeing you. I’m such an idiot.” He hated him, he really did, and he hated that he still felt more alive in Castien’s proximity than he’d had in over a month, his body burning with a horrible mix of hormones, their bond like a tight rope, trying to pull them closer, hungry for intimacy, for anything.
A large hand came up and gripped his chin hard.
Eridan shivered from the contact and glared at Castien defiantly.
“I know they did not abuse you,” Castien said, looking at him with a strange, fixed expression. “I checked the woman’s mind. I know exactly how they treated you. So why would I ask redundant questions?”
“To make me feel better?” Eridan sniped, though his anger and hurt eased a little from the knowledge that Castien had actually cared enough to check. But he was still angry. Caring a little wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted everything. He wanted to be his Master’s world in the same terrible, unfair way his Master was his.
Castien’s jaw tightened. “You spoiled brat,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “Is it not enough that you have put me at a disadvantage by getting yourself kidnapped? That I had to allow those people to blackmail me? If the Tai’Lehrians didn’t need my help as badly as they do, they could have asked for bigger sacrifices—and I would have been forced to comply, because of you. We were lucky they were desperate.”
Eridan glared at him. “You actually have the nerve to blame me for getting kidnapped? It wasn’t my fault!”
Castien’s lips twisted. “Of course it was. If you were not—you, if you were an ordinary apprentice, no one would notice you, and no one would bother kidnapping you.”