At last, Troy managed to find the keys at the bottom of one of his bags. “Here it is!” he said too loudly, avoiding Noel’s gaze, and opened the door.
He walked inside and looked around, feeling… he wasn’t sure what. He felt numb, and there was a surreal quality to the whole thing, as if he couldn’t possibly be moving back for real. To stay here. It didn’t seem real that he would never—that he would never…
“Eh, are you okay, man?” Noel said, his voice uncomfortable.
Troy had never thought smiling could be painful. It made the muscles of his face ache. “Sure,” he said.
Judging by Noel’s doubtful look, he wasn’t buying it.
Troy turned away.
“Home, sweet home,” he said, hating how fake his voice sounded, hating himself for being a pathetic fool who wanted to turn around and run back to Andreas’s house and beg him to let him stay, like a kicked puppy begging its owner for attention and affection. Something in him yearned to do it, his pride be damned.
Enough. He’d just gotten a little attached.
It would pass.
It had to.
Chapter Six
Working as a clerk at the monastery was surprisingly interesting. Troy liked the job. It was refreshing to see so many outsiders all the time—and it was an interesting challenge to keep up the pretense that the monastery was all there was to High Hronthar, as if the Order’s main settlement wasn’t located in the Kavalchi Mountains.
He worked closely with Irrene, the Grandmaster’s secretary, and she was very nice and supportive, which really helped Troy acclimate to the new environment quickly.
He saw a lot of Masters and Senior Masters all the time at his new workplace.
Not all of them, though. Some.
So yeah, the job was fine. Everything was fine. He had a fairly interesting, respectable occupation. He no longer had to have sex with people if he didn’t want to. Which was great in theory—except he hadn’t felt the slightest inclination to go out and get laid. It was probably fine too. It probably made sense that with all the changes in his life recently, the prospect of going out to get laid would feel like a chore. As soon as he actually met someone attractive, his libido would be back, Troy was sure of it.
“Is Master in his office?”
The voice startled him so badly that Troy flinched.
Lifting his gaze, he found himself looking at a startlingly beautiful young man in an apprentice’s blue robes. Dark gold hair framed an exquisite face with pretty violet eyes. Flawless pink lips were folded into a polite smile. “So has Master returned yet?”
Troy frowned. “Master? You mean Grandmaster Idhron?”
The young man nodded, exuding slight impatience. “Are you new? I’m Eridan,” he said, touching the purple dethrenyte at his throat. The precious gem glowed dimly, emanating a familiar telepathic mark. The mark of the Grandmaster.
Ah. So that was the infamous apprentice of the Grandmaster of the order. The one the Grandmaster was heavily rumored to be sexually involved with despite it being very much against the rules.
Troy nearly snorted at his own thoughts. In theory, a Grandmaster usually wasn’t above the law, but in practice, he was the law. Master Castien Idhron had become the Grandmaster recently—and the youngest one in history at that—but he’d wielded enormous power in the Order long before that. The man creeped Troy out, to be honest. There were all sorts of rumors about him, one wilder than another, and Troy wasn’t sure which of them to believe.
Looking at Eridan’s stunning face, Troy was inclined to believe the rumor that the esteemed Grandmaster was banging his own apprentice. This face would tempt a saint. Or a monk.
Troy’s eyebrows furrowed as he realized suddenly that Eridan didn’t tempt him. While he found Eridan beautiful objectively, he felt no real desire to fuck him. It was… odd. Eridan was exactly his type—Troy had always liked seeing someone young and pretty under him. But now he struggled to imagine fucking this guy, no matter how insanely attractive he was.
Troy said belatedly, “His Grace hasn’t returned from his trip yet.”
Eridan sighed and plopped down into the chair and pulled a datapad out of his pocket, clearly intending to wait for his Master.
Troy shifted his gaze to his computer and stared at it blankly.
A year ago, he would have been doing his best to get into Eridan’s pants. Why didn’t he feel even a flicker of interest now?
Maybe he just didn’t feel like getting laid. Besides, it would have been stupid to try flirting with the Grandmaster’s—whatever Eridan was to him.
A year ago, you wouldn’t have cared, a voice said at the back of his mind. Your denial is getting old, you fucking coward.
Eridan cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”
Looking back at him, Troy tried to smile. “Sure. Why are you asking?”
Fixing his violet eyes on him appraisingly, Eridan shrugged. “I have strong empathy and I couldn’t help but sense some of your emotions. In my defense, you’re projecting them very strongly.”