However, he was pleased with himself and found that, whilst most of Aesthesia did not come naturally to him, he was able to master the basics to enough of a degree that Venser wasn’t horrified by the prospect of letting Leander loose in the world.
The major difficulty was entering another’s mind to browse their thoughts. But he did think to himself that he could just avoid using that aspect of Aesthesia, at least in the immediate future.
He had more fun tapping into people’s emotions anyway. Knowing what someone else was feeling had more than a few benefits, and it felt to him like his own divine powers, powers which he already missed dearly.
“You mentioned people suffering in times of war,” Leander said to Venser one day as they finished up for the afternoon.
“Is there a question attached to that statement?”
“Yes, well… I am struggling with the phrasing, but couldn’t that just happen to anyone? If you’re exposed to enough emotion, negative or positive, that isn’t yours and you have no way to process it… won’t that impact you?”
“Is it possible? Sure. Is it certain? No. Speculating about the continual use of Aesthesia on the psyche of an individual is a time-honoured tradition among philosophers in Cariun, but it’s very woolly and not a hill I’d plan to die on. Most of the time we just don’t know, and you should be very suspicious of anyone who claims to,” Venser replied.
“It’s rather invasive,” Leander observed quietly, evidently uncomfortable with the raw power he now had access to.
“Yes, but only when used without reason or just cause.” Venser paused, his calculating look pinning Leander into place. Then he added, “Aesthesia is a dangerous weapon, and should be used with care. Barriers of adamantine are your strongest ally against those who would seek to know you… or even control you.”
“And what of using it, brother? Any advice?”
“Only this: don’t. There are laws governing its use. To infiltrate another’s mind without their permission, especially members of the nobility who will feel and recognise your presence, is perilous in some cases and can be a capital offence in others.”
“Like when?”
Venser stared down his brother, blue eyes hard and unyielding. “To explain to you the nuances of Vyrican law would be pointless. I strongly advise you to avoid doing it at all.”
Their father, over dinner one evening, even expressed his pleasure that Leander was doing so well learning to control Aesthesia. The fact that his pride was mostly directed at Venser’s teachings than Leander’s effort gratedat Leander, but he was learning to accept his father’s antipathy towards him.
Leander had been stunned by the reception he had received from his mortal relatives. All his life, he had put his father upon a pedestal, believing that, if he should ever meet with him, he would be gathered into his father’s embrace like a prodigal son. That he would finally have the love his life had been lacking thus far. His father had the reputation of being self-righteous and virtuous. His virtues just didn’t include an automatic love or any emotion for his youngest son other than contempt.
Leander felt this emotional detachment deeply.
He wondered how his mortal family would have reacted if they had been at his immortal trial. He knew his posturing had done him no favours, but he had acted on instinct: self-preservation. He hadn’t been able to let his hurt and bewilderment show through, lest he break the trust of the few who might still have faith in him. Some in Estalian were still relying on him.
He doubted that his mortal relations felt any more positively towards him than his immortal ones. Verin, at least, seemed prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. Then again… so had his mother, only to abandon him when he needed her the most. His trust in the love of anyone was severely dented, if not now totally lacking.
“Did… did your mother ever speak to you of our father, Leander?” Verin asked him when they were alone in the garden one day.
Leander paused. “Rarely. She seemed haunted by the memory, really. It was as if it was a forbidden topic.”
“I suppose some secrets are best left buried. It’s justunfortunate that it meant I was never able to meet my little brother or even know of his existence.” Verin’s foot nudged at a budding dandelion. “So… you grew up never knowing about us or our father too?”
“No, my mother told me of you, but she also told me you had no interest in meeting or knowing me.”
“What a lie to tell you. That must have been difficult.”
“What’s harder is seeing the web of lies unravelled when I had no inkling of it. Ironic, really.”
“Well, we may have missed out on years together, but there’s time to make up for it.”
“I’m not sure everyone else feels the same way,” Leander muttered as he glanced over to the house. He could almost feel eyes from the window burning a hole in his back.
“Give Venser some time. He’ll come around.”
“And our father?”
The Talius scion laughed. “Father’s… Father. You’ll learn to navigate life around him.”
Chapter Three
