Prince's Master Read online

  Contents

  Prince's Master

  Prologue

  Chapter One: First Impressions

  Chapter Two: Unwanted

  Chapter Three: Negotiations

  Chapter Four: Tests

  Chapter Five: Nameday

  Chapter Six: A Merge

  Chapter Seven: The Chapter

  Chapter Eight: The Servant and the Apprentice

  Chapter Nine: Ice Prince

  Chapter Ten: Safe Place

  Chapter Eleven: The Grandmaster

  Chapter Twelve: The Queen

  Chapter Thirteen: The Truth

  Chapter Fourteen: Confrontation

  Interlude

  Chapter Fifteen: Something Lost

  Chapter Sixteen: Captivity

  Chapter Seventeen: Reunion

  Chapter Eighteen: Snapped

  Chapter Nineteen: Ill-advised

  Chapter Twenty: Revelations

  Chapter Twenty-One: Brother

  Chapter Twenty-Two: A New Home

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Masks

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Broken

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Indulgent

  Chapter Twenty-Six: The Informant

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: An Act of Kindness

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Thawing

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Rewritten

  Chapter Thirty: An Act of Selfishness

  Chapter Thirty-One: Master

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Peace

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Home

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  An Excerpt from "Unnatural"

  Calluvia's Royalty series

  Straight Guys series

  Glossary

  List of Characters

  Book #4 in Calluvia’s Royalty series

  Book #1 in Masters series

  Alessandra Hazard

  Other books in Calluvia’s Royalty series:

  Book #1 That Alien Feeling

  Book #2 That Irresistible Poison

  Book #3 Once Upon a Time

  Copyright © 2020 Alessandra Hazard

  Editor: Eliot Grayson

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author’s imagination.

  www.alessandrahazard.com

  Warning: This book contains explicit MM sex and graphic language.

  Prologue

  “It’s too early, you dimwit! We can’t kill the brats yet!”

  Later, Prince Warrehn would be grateful that he’d decided to answer the call of nature behind that bush and not any of the others.

  But that would be later.

  Now the boy stood frozen, not daring to breathe as his own bodyguards argued about the best time to kill Warrehn and his little brother.

  One of the bodyguards was insisting that they should do it now while they were near the Kavalchi Mountains and communicators didn’t work. Another bodyguard argued that waiting until dark would be better.

  But it was when the third one spoke that Warrehn’s blood went cold. “The sooner we do it, the sooner Her Excellency pays us.”

  Her Excellency.

  There were several people that title could refer to, but it wasn’t difficult to guess who the bodyguard was talking about: Aunt Dalatteya. Warrehn didn’t want to believe it, but—

  But his aunt did have the most to gain if something were to happen to him and Eri: her own son would inherit the throne.

  Trying to suppress his shock, anger, and betrayal—now wasn’t the time—Warrehn carefully moved away from the bushes, toward the malfunctioning aircraft where he had left his baby brother. Distantly, he wondered whether the aircraft was actually malfunctioning. It was quite convenient that the transport broke in the middle of nowhere, forcing their bodyguards to make an emergency landing in the Revialli Forest. But even if the aircraft was in working condition, it would be of no use to him. It could only be used by a certified pilot; its anti-theft system would never allow a ten-year-old to fly it, crown prince or not.

  “We’re going to play a game, Eri,” Warrehn whispered, lifting his three-year-old brother out of the aircraft. “You’ll need to be very quiet, all right? We’re going to run, and we don’t want them to catch us.”

  Eri grinned, his violet eyes wide with excitement, and allowed Warrehn to gather him into his arms without making a fuss. Thank heaven for small mercies.

  Glancing back warily toward the bushes, Warrehn hugged his baby brother close to his chest and ran.

  He’d never run this fast in his life.

  He didn’t know how long he ran. He didn’t even notice when the forest floor began to slope upward as he neared the mountain. His lungs hurt, his ribs ached, and the toddler in his arms seemed to become heavier with every moment. Sharp branches scratched his face and his arms, tearing skin and leaving bruises, gnarled tree roots tripped him, and his eyes stung with sweat and angry tears, but Warrehn kept running. Sometimes he thought he could hear the sounds of pursuit close behind. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped, but that could be animals going about their business. Warrehn could only hope.

  But before long, Eri started complaining, and then he was crying.

  “Shhh. Please, please, don’t cry,” Warrehn whispered hoarsely, desperation clawing in his chest like a trapped beast. The sounds of their pursuers seemed closer now, but he couldn’t even hide, because Eri wouldn’t stop crying.

  That was when he heard it: a sound coming from another direction. It sounded like… an aircar?

  Warrehn ran toward the sound.

  And there it was, a small aircar passing just over the clearing.

  Warrehn waved frantically, trying to attract the attention of the pilot. For a moment, he thought it was all in vain, but then the aircar turned back and started landing in the clearing.

  It was the longest moment of Warrehn’s life. The bittersweet part was, he knew that even if the aircar landed before his bodyguards caught up to them, it wouldn’t save him. That model of aircar was meant for one person; there would be no place for a tall ten-year-old. Even if he managed to convince the pilot to lend him the aircar, he wouldn’t be able to fly it: he didn’t have a license and the car wouldn’t allow him to pilot it without one.

  But the pilot could take Eri. At least his brother would escape. He would be alive. Warrehn hated the thought of entrusting his brother to a stranger, but it was his only chance. Their only chance. Without the crying toddler in his arms, Warrehn would have a better chance of losing his pursuers in the forest, and then he could come back for Eri.

  He ran toward the aircar before it even fully landed. As the door opened, Warrehn kissed the crying toddler on the forehead, whispering, “I’ll come back for you,” before shoving Eri into the arms of the pilot—a young man. “This is Prince Eruadarhd of the Fifth Royal House. There are people after his life. Take him and hide him until I come back.”

  Eri went quiet in the stranger’s arms, looking at him curiously.

  “Wait,” the stranger said, but at that moment, there was the sound of branches breaking, awfully close.

  “Go!” Warrehn snapped, closing the aircar’s door. “They’re armed!”

  Thankfully, the pilot seemed to take him seriously, and the aircar took off. Warrehn didn’t wait for it to disappear out of sight. He dove back into the forest just as his pursuers broke into the clearing. Blaster shots rained down around him. Warrehn ran, his eyes burning and his chest tight with anger and loss. Only now had he realized that he had no idea whom he had given Eri to. All he could remember of
the stranger was dark brows and blue eyes. He had no idea where to find his brother.

  I’ll come back for you, he swore. I’ll find you.

  If he survived at all.

  ***

  Castien Idhron didn’t like children. They were loud, obnoxious, and whiny: qualities he had no patience for. He wanted to return the child to the boy who had so rudely shoved him into Castien’s arms, but the boy had already disappeared into the forest. He considered landing the aircar, but the sound of the blaster shots quickly changed his mind.

  Besides, if what the boy had claimed was true and the toddler really was a prince of one of the Calluvian royal houses, refusing to provide assistance would be more trouble than it was worth, since all members of the P’gni Order of High Hronthar were supposed to be always willing to help.

  His lips twisting, Castien put the aircar into autopilot and finally studied the child in his lap. He had to admit that the child in question was remarkably adorable for a little monster. Chubby cheeks, a golden mop of hair and huge violet eyes that were looking at Castien with equal curiosity.

  Right now, the toddler was quiet, but Castien knew from experience that it was unlikely to last. When Castien had been a senior initiate, he had spent too much time teaching the children of the Order, which was where his dislike for little monsters came from.

  “What is your name, child?” he said, forcing his voice to sound nice and patient. Unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly nice by nature and patience was something he was still struggling with. No amount of meditation and mental exercises could completely purge the teenage restlessness and aggression. Master Kato, the Grandmaster of the Order, said that it was normal for a seventeen-year-old to struggle with controlling his aggression, but Castien didn’t need the old Grandmaster’s assurance to know that his peers were far less disciplined than he was. His lack of control still didn’t please him. Being just like his peers wasn’t enough; he’d always striven to be better.

  Because he was. He was the youngest certified mind adept the Order had ever produced, the youngest Master Acolyte, and the expectations for him were higher than for others. Castien didn’t mind. He’d always been a perfectionist, ambitious and driven, and the goals he’d set for himself were far higher anyway.

  “I’m Eri,” the toddler replied, sucking on his thumb.

  Eri. Prince Eruadarhd of the Fifth Royal House.

  Frowning, Castien reached out for his multi-device. The aircar was too close to the Great Mountains and there was no reception for GlobalNet here, but Castien had a small backup of royal records compiled by the Order.

  When he set the multi-device down some time later, he looked thoughtfully at the toddler in his lap. He hadn’t truly believed that the child was a prince, but everything had checked out. The child really seemed to be Prince Eruadarhd, the three-year-old son of the recently deceased King and Queen-Consort of the Fifth Grand Clan. The boy who had handed him the toddler was Crown Prince Warrehn, his older brother. Castien was a little annoyed that he hadn’t recognized him immediately, but in his defense, it had all happened so fast and he hadn’t gotten a good look at the boy. Not to mention that he’d had little interest in the royal children. The High Hronthar had always stood apart from the twelve royal houses of Calluvia. The Order did answer to the Council to some extent, but officially, the Order was forbidden from meddling in politics. Officially.

  Castien eyed the child as he considered and discarded different options. It wasn’t difficult to see who would benefit from the assassination of two orphaned princes. As things stood, he would gain nothing from delivering the child to the Fifth Royal Palace, into the waiting arms of his aunt. If the child’s older brother didn’t survive, Prince Eruadarhd would be in even greater danger—and more importantly, returning the little prince prematurely would be just a wasted opportunity.

  “You are going to need a new name, little one,” he murmured. No one in the Order needed to know who this boy was. All they needed to know was that the orphaned boy had been given to Castien by his relatives, which was true enough. Castien doubted anyone would question him or even take interest in the child. They received dozens of orphaned and abandoned children every month, to train from their early childhood. Castien had been one, too, after all.

  “I’m Eri,” the boy said with a confused little frown. “Don’t want a new name!”

  Castien sighed. It seemed the child was a stubborn one, and a quite smart one for his age.

  “Fine,” he conceded. “You will be Eridan, then.” It fit the nickname, but it was different enough from the boy’s real name not to raise people’s eyebrows. If there were no other children with that name in the Order, the child would be able to keep the name when he was Named.

  A voice at the back of his mind, a voice that sounded a lot like his old Master, whispered, One day your ambition will be your downfall, Castien.

  He ignored it, resolved to meditate once he got back to Hronthar. If he was imagining voices of dead men, clearly meditation was in order.

  “What’s your name?” the boy—Eridan—said, looking at him with his curious violet eyes.

  Castien studied him. The boy was behaving suspiciously well for a three-year-old who had been left with a stranger. Too well. Perhaps…

  He brought down his shields and tentatively touched the boy’s mind. A bright, curious presence reached back. It was strong for such a small boy, Eridan’s mind untrained but promisingly powerful—and very compatible with his.

  Castien contemplated it for a moment, frowning, because mental compatibility had its drawbacks. But he was confident in his self-control. He was confident he wouldn’t allow some royal brat to emotionally compromise him. Besides, he had no patience for children. It would be decades before the little prince would be of use to him. A lot could change in that time.

  For now, he would deliver the child to the Initiates’ Hall and let the Overseer handle his education until he was old enough.

  Decision made, Castien looked at the child and said, “You can call me Master.”

  Chapter One: First Impressions

  Eridan’s earliest memory of his life at the Initiates’ Hall was that of an unusually cold night.

  He was shivering, his small body curled into a tight ball to preserve warmth. He was so very cold. And so scared.

  He could hear other children in the bedroom. Some were snoring softly, some were crying. But they didn’t make him feel less lonely. They didn’t make him less scared. Eri wanted to go home. He wanted his soft, warm bed. He wanted his… someone. He couldn’t remember who he wanted to see, but he knew something was wrong.

  This was all wrong.

  He didn’t belong here.

  He’d tried to tell that to the tall, stern-faced woman who looked after the children in this strange, miserable place, but she ignored him.

  It took Eri a while to realize that the Overseer ignored him because his words weren’t any different from other children’s: most of them used to have homes and families before they ended up in this place for one reason or another. Of course the Overseer wouldn’t pay Eri any mind. He was no different from hundreds of other children under her care.

  For some reason, the thought was… strange, as if he was supposed to be something else.

  Someone important.

  ***

  It would take Eridan several years before he would realize that he was treated differently from the other children after all.

  The Overseer seemed to pay extra attention to Eri’s studies, watching him with her sharp, observant gaze and taking notes on his performance in class. Senior initiates, who served as teachers to the children, seemed to pay him extra attention, too, studying him strangely.

  Eridan was seven when he finally found out why.

  “You are all seven years of age,” Initiate Berunn said, looking at his class with a haughty, bored expression. “You are now officially junior initiates. That means Masters can speak to you now. However, you shouldn’t expect it. E
ven if it happens, you shouldn’t think that it necessarily means anything. Generally, at your age, Masters just take note of promising initiates and track their progress if they find someone of interest. It will likely be many years, likely more than a decade, before you are chosen by a Master.” Berunn paused. “If you are chosen at all.”

  A feeling of unease swept through the group.

  Eridan squirmed, trying to tighten his rudimentary mental shields against his age-mates’ emotions. He’d always been very sensitive to other people’s emotions, and unpleasant ones affected him particularly badly.

  In the meantime, Initiate Berunn continued. “I know right now you all think that it can’t happen to you, but the truth is, initiates outnumber Masters ninety to one.” He leaned forward, his lips curled into something cruel. “The truth is, most of you will not be chosen by a Master. You will never be a Master’s apprentice, which means you will never be a Master. Most of you will end up in the servicing department of the Order, serving Masters and their apprentices, so unless you want to be help, you should start applying yourselves now. You’re not children anymore. You’re junior initiates of the Order. You are all competing against each other for the honor of being chosen by a Master.”

  “Do you have a Master?”

  When Berunn looked at him, Eridan realized that he was the one who’d said that. He flushed.

  Berunn’s eyes narrowed. “Not yet,” he said evenly, giving Eridan a hard look. “But I have been approached by several Masters, and I expect to be chosen within the next few months.”

  Despite his confident, bored tone, Eridan could sense that the older boy was far from confident. Initiate Berunn was actually feeling… anxious.

  Eridan cocked his head to the side. “When is an initiate too old to be chosen?”

  Berunn’s jaw clenched slightly. “Twenty-one standard years is the cut-off age. If an initiate isn’t chosen by that age, they will be transferred to the servicing department of the Order.”