It still hurt.
And it certainly rid him of any delusions he’d had before. He had stupidly thought that the fact that his Master protected him from the attention of other Masters meant that he was being protective of him. Castien clearly just didn’t want them to prematurely figure out who Eridan was. Even Castien’s rejection of him was starting to make so much sense. Why would Castien want to start an unnecessary physical relationship that had the potential to mess up his plans? After all, he would want his apprentice to be loyal to him but not too clingy if he wanted to use him as a puppet king.
Eridan chuckled, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he remembered himself arrogantly telling Javier that he knew his place in his Master’s life. He had known nothing. He was just an expendable pawn, nothing more. Castien probably couldn’t wait to finally get rid of him and get an apprentice he really wanted to teach.
Idiot. He had been such an idiot to crave the love of a man who was incapable of it.
The question was, what he was going to do now?
Chapter Fourteen: Confrontation
Eridan felt more or less calm by the time Castien came home.
Though “calm” seemed to be a grossly inaccurate word when his world had been completely turned upside down. He had never felt so powerless in his life. So anchorless. The Order was all he had ever known, and the thought of being cast out of it and becoming one of the royals was, frankly, more than a little terrifying. Discovering that his Master had chosen him not because he wanted him as an apprentice but because he wanted to use him as a piece in a political game made something in him burn with hurt and anger.
So perhaps he wasn’t calm.
But he could pretend to be calm. He could smile when he wanted to scream and rage. He would achieve nothing by screaming and raging; he had learned that much from his Master.
Castien lifted his gaze from his meal when Eridan entered the small dining room. “Have you eaten?” he said, glancing at the serving robot.
“I’m not hungry, Master,” he said. It was true enough. He would probably puke if he ate.
Castien’s brows furrowed. “Why are you shielding yourself?”
Eridan smiled crookedly. “Aren’t you 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.”