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)
Eridan lifted his gaze.
Castien didn’t look at him, his eyes still on Rohan. “I didn’t say that he was worthless. It would be a pity to have wasted years of my time on him if I were to take on another apprentice. He is of some worth to me, but you are delusional if you think I will not sacrifice him if you try to use him against me.”
Of some worth.
He was of some worth to his Master.
Rationally, Eridan knew Castien had to downplay his importance in order to not allow himself to be blackmailed. But Eridan also knew better than to delude himself into thinking that it was anything but the truth.
Sirri chuckled.
“He’s lying,” she said. She was looking at Castien with a faint smirk. “Oh, you’re good. I would have totally believed you. Except I have a feeling that what you just said is a load of bullshit and if we believe you, we’ll make a huge mistake.”
“She has a gift for premonition,” Rohan clarified, looking coolly at Castien. “So shall we try again?”
Castien’s lips thinned. He was silent for a while, looking from Rohan to Sirri before saying, “What do you want?”
Eridan stared at him, stunned.
Castien still wouldn’t look at him.
“Stop twisting public opinion against us. That’s our first demand.”
“First? I presume there is a second?”
“You’ll clear our names of the murder of Prince-Consort Mehmer,” Rohan said. “As long as we’re blamed for the murder of a royal, the Council won’t even listen to us. We’ll be arrested on the spot.”
Castien just looked at Rohan for a long moment.
Eridan cocked his head to the side, sensing the shift in Castien’s telepathic presence. It was changing, becoming like… like Rohan’s.
He was morphing his telepathic presence to imitate Rohan’s, Eridan realized with morbid fascination. It should have been impossible. He’d had no idea his Master had such a telepathic gift—heck, he hadn’t realized such a gift existed. It was as creepy as it was fascinating.
The implications of it… were, frankly, terrifying, because a telepath’s mark was the ultimate security measure that protected the telepath’s mind. By imitating Rohan’s telepathic mark, Castien could theoretically bypass Rohan’s mental shields as if they didn’t exist: they wouldn’t fight him, because they wouldn’t recognize him as an intruder.
Rohan’s expression became a little puzzled, as if he sensed that something was off but couldn’t quite figure out what.
Finally, Castien’s presence returned back to normal. Eridan could sense something that felt a lot like amusement through their bond. Castien was amused by something.
Frankly, Eridan felt kind of sorry for Rohan. When his Master was amused, it was usually at someone else’s expense. Castien did have a sense of humor, but it was rather twisted.
“Very well,” Castien said with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Now let my apprentice go.”
“Not so fast,” Warrehn grunted when Eridan tried to free himself. “You aren’t getting him back until you keep your end of the deal.”
Castien’s expression became stony. “I am not leaving without my apprentice.”
Eridan’s foolish heart jumped at those words, though rationally he knew Castien likely was just unwilling to keep his end of the deal.
“Sorry, dear, but you understand that we can’t trust you,” Sirri said.
“I can hardly trust you, either,” Castien said. “How do I know that you will let my apprentice go even if I do as you say?”
“You don’t,” Rohan agreed. “But the difference is, you can’t do anything to us. It’s not in your interests to tell the Council where the rebels’ base is. You don’t want us to be found. That would destroy the social order the High Hronthar spent millennia establishing. If other Calluvians see how much stronger we are, they will be scared. There will likely be war, and Calluvians won’t want to be shackled by their childhood bonds anymore while the hated ‘rebels’ are so much stronger. You will lose the unlimited power you now enjoy.”
Castien’s eyes grew colder. “Then why should I do anything for you if it all ends the same way, either way?”
Rohan seemed to hesitate, his expression rather pinched.
“We could help each other,” he said.
Eridan frowned. He hadn’t expected that at all.
Judging by Warrehn and Sirri’s bewildered gazes, they hadn’t, either.
Rohan ignored them all, looking only at Castien. “The difference is, if you help us restore our reputation, we won’t remind the Council of the original reason our ancestors rebelled. We won’t remind them of the ex-member of the High Hronthar who was disgusted by his Order’s thirst for power, by the web of deception the Order wove for the Council, using their fears against them. If the Council actually accepts Tai’Lehrians, there will be no war, and if there is no war against powerful telepaths, Calluvians will have little reason to want to break their bonds. We’ll leave the Order alone, and you’ll be able to keep most of your power if you play your cards right.”