Eridan scoffed. “First of all, even if you were right about the Order—and I’m not saying you are—do you really think the Order brainwashes billions of people? That’s just impossible considering the ratio between the number of mind adepts and the general population.”
Warrehn’s eyebrows furrowed. “You still force the Bond on all Calluvians,” he said.
“That’s not brainwashing,” Eridan said. “Binding the population’s telepathic strength isn’t brainwashing. Their minds are still their own. One might argue that if there were a lot of powerful telepaths just running around, there would be a lot more brainwashing going on, because it wouldn’t be controlled at all.”
“Of course you would think that,” Warrehn said with a sneer. “They brainwashed you, too.”
Eridan rolled his eyes. “Yes, the Masters of the Order have nothing better to do than brainwash toddlers. Come on, they can be total assholes, but don’t be ridiculous. I can think for myself, thank you very much.”
The guy gave him a look that was a cross between suspicious and curious. “You talk nothing like an apprentice of the High Adept.”
Eridan chuckled. “And how would you know how an apprentice of the ‘High Adept’ should talk?” He’d always found the title the outsiders called the Grandmaster of the Order a bit strange. “How many members of the Order have you actually met? We don’t do evil chants and plot world domination all the time. We’re just people.”
“Right.”
Eridan heaved a sigh. “I don’t get why you have this idea that the Order is some kind of epitome of evil. Sure, there are some ‘evil’ people in the Order, but there are just as many good people. There is evil everywhere, Warrehn. Your friendly neighbor might actually be a mass murderer, and your loving relative might be plotting your death.”
Warrehn looked away. “It still doesn’t make what your precious Order does okay.”
Eridan shrugged. “But what does the Order do? Give a person one loving partner for life? Is it that bad?”
“Don’t try to make it pretty. You’re taking people’s choice away.”
Eridan’s lips twisted. “Choice? You mean their choice to cheat on their partner and treat them like shit? The marriage bond weakens one’s telepathy, I won’t deny it, but it also gives people a sense of belonging, a bondmate who will always love them, who will never cheat or hurt them. Is that so bad?” He looked away, hating how wistful his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. “Calluvia has the lowest homicide rate in the Union of Planets for a reason. Calluvia had the highest homicide rate before the introduction of the Bonding Law. Millions of people would have died of things like jealousy and adultery if it were not for the Bonding Law. That’s a fact.”
Warrehn opened his mouth and closed it, a deep wrinkle appearing between his brows. “Shut up,” he grunted at last, looking annoyed—clearly annoyed that he couldn’t find a flaw in that logic.
Eridan smiled, amused despite himself.
“What was your name again?” Warrehn said, breaking the silence.
“Eridan,” he replied, figuring it wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Warrehn turned back to the window, his shoulders stiff.
Eridan eyed him, curious about his reaction and wondering whether he should try to read his mind.
He’d never liked delving into other people’s minds. Although his distaste for it had lessened over the years under his Master’s demanding tutelage, Eridan still found poking at other people’s minds unpleasant, Castien’s orderly mind the only one he actually enjoyed touching.
Castien.
Eridan’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. He honestly had no idea how his Master was going to react to his kidnapping. Part of him doubted that he would even care, but if the Order blockaded the Hangar Bay 4 area already, it implied that Castien at least didn’t want the rebels to take him off the planet, which made sense. He wouldn’t want to lose his asset, after all.
The thought made Eridan’s lips curl into a bitter smile.
He and his Master… Their relationship had become terribly strained over the past year. It was his own doing, of course: the distance he’d put between them had completely changed their relationship. There were no more kisses on the cheek, no more sneaky hugs. They were a Master and an apprentice, nothing more.
The distance between them was supposed to help. It was supposed to help Eridan get over his idiotic… fixation on his Master. Instead, it felt like a punishment for him. Instead of helping him get over his stupid thing for his Master, the distance just made him yearn for what they had once had—for the easy companionship and comfort—and hate himself for it. How could he miss something that had never existed? That had been a lie? A delusion?
But how could he not? He missed the feeling of security and certainty in his place in the world. He missed feeling important to his Master. He missed feeling pride at being addressed as Apprentice Idhron—it meant his Master had chosen him, had seen his worth and liked what he saw. Now that those delusions had been taken away from him, he felt terribly vulnerable, like a fraud.