Warrehn sighed. He could sense the sincerity in Idhron’s words. He wasn’t lying for once.
He looked at Idhron, and Idhron looked back, his gaze firm and calm.
Warrehn didn’t like this man much. But if he could make his brother look so happy, Warrehn would have to learn to like him.
“All right,” he said, and after a moment’s hesitation, brushed his telepathic presence against Idhron’s. Peace?
The answering touch of Idhron’s telepathic presence was rather guarded but not entirely unfriendly.
Warrehn nodded, turning away. “So, how are we going to handle the press?”
Chapter Thirty-Three: Home
Calluvian Society Gossip
PRINCE ERIDAN: I MISS MY HOME
In an unexpected turn of events, Prince Eridan of the Fifth Grand Clan doesn’t wish to be a prince. Raised by the mind adepts of the High Hronthar, the prince reportedly feels more at home at the austere monastery than he does at the lavish palace of his brother.
“I love Warrehn very much, and I’m ever so grateful that we have found each other again,” Prince Eridan said. “But the Order has been my home since I was three years old, and I’m so grateful to my brother for allowing me to return to the life I’m used to. My greatest ambition is to become a certified mind adept of the Order, but it doesn’t mean I will stop being Warrehn’s brother. I support him in everything.”
When asked about the malicious rumors that have been spread recently about the High Adept and him, Prince Eridan laughed. “I think I know the source of those rumors. It’s likely one of those initiates who wanted to be Master Idhron’s apprentice and were very disappointed when he chose me. I don’t blame them. I would be envious and bitter, too.”
When asked about whether he will stop participating in social events, Prince Eridan’s expression became thoughtful. “I suppose it depends on how busy I am with my studies as an apprentice. If I’m free, I see no reason why I wouldn’t attend some social events. I am a prince, after all.”
He is, indeed!
We at Calluvian Society Gossip wish Prince Eridan all the success in his chosen path!
***
The early morning air was crisp and slightly chilly, smelling of old forest, mountains, and home.
Eridan took a deep breath and exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he gazed down at Hronthar situated in the mountain valley. The town looked magical from the distance, its yellow lights illuminating it merrily.
He smiled wistfully, imagining young initiates hurrying to their morning lessons, still sleepy and grumpy. He had been one, too. It felt like it had been a lifetime ago.
A strong hand clasped his shoulder. “It is chilly, Eridan. We should have landed closer to the town. And you should have at least worn a cloak.”
Eridan shook his head with a smile. “Why do I need a cloak when I have you?”
Castien sighed, a long-suffering sigh that didn’t convince Eridan at all. Castien didn’t truly feel annoyed; he would sense it through the bond if he did.
Castien pulled Eridan against his chest and draped his own heavy cloak around them both.
Eridan smiled, leaning back into him, breathing in his Master’s familiar scent and feeling so very warm and happy as he gazed at High Hronthar in the distance. Their bond pulsed with contentment-rightness-mine-mine-mine, Castien’s arms around him solid and so very safe. He could stay here forever, in this man’s arms.
“I love you, Master,” Eridan said softly. He didn’t expect to hear it back; he just felt so happy he needed to say it.
Castien’s arms around him tightened to the point it almost hurt.
He felt his Master bury his face in his hair and take a deep breath. “I think it would not be inaccurate to say that the sentiment is returned.”
“My head hurts from the double negatives,” Eridan said, his vision turning blurry. He grinned, looking back at Castien. “One day I’ll get you to say those icky words, Master.”
Castien’s blue eyes smiled at him. “We shall see,” he said, and kissed him.
The angle was awkward, Castien’s lips were cold, and the air was too chilly, but the kiss warmed Eridan down to his toes.
When they finally managed to break the kiss, he was tingling all over, a familiar heat building in his lower stomach.
Castien stared at him for a moment, his gaze transfixed. Then he took his hand and pulled him toward the castle. “We have loitered here long enough. Let’s go, Eridan.”
Smiling, Eridan intertwined their fingers and let his Master pull him toward their home.
The sun was rising.
Epilogue
Castien Idhron didn’t like children. They were loud, obnoxious, and whiny: qualities he had no patience for. Bizarrely, when it was his own child, those qualities were somehow endearing instead of aggravating.
“Sinead,” he said in his sternest voice.
His three-year-old daughter peered up at him with her wide blue eyes and blinked innocently. “Do you want to play with me and Lola, Papa?”