by Aldrea Alien
He had heard strange things about Udyneans. Whilst on some things it was hard to parse out the fact from the fiction, he was relatively certain that men being openly affectionate with other men was something that did happen there.
Whether Darshan had been pulling his leg with such an act was a different matter. The man hadn’t seemed shy about admitting it in the pub. Had he somehow known Hamish wouldn’t react badly to the act? Had someone told him? Gordon. If his brother had put the man up to this, then Hamish was going to kick his arse.
He flipped a tuft of his horse’s mane to the other side of her neck. Best nae to linger on it. What difference could one kiss make in the long run? “So,” Hamish squeaked before clearing his throat and trying again to fill the quiet with idle noise. “You’re a healer?”
Darshan chuckled, a wicked sound that conjured visions of secret spells woven in the darkness. “Repairing that man’s jaw gave it away, did it?” He grinned warmly. “I am indeed. Most Udynean nobles have some rudimentary knowledge in that area, enough to have an innate healing ability. It keeps us from being poisoned so easily.”
“Poisoned?” Hamish latched onto that morsel of new information, desperate for anything that would keep his mind off the man’s lips. “That’s a common occurrence in Udynea?” He had thought Nora had been attempting to fool him when she mentioned something similar all those years ago. I guess I was the daft one there.
Darshan rocked his head from side to side. “Not at the moment. There are a great deal more recreations to occupy the mind, but it becomes fashionable every now and then. New mixtures are concocted and those lower in the ranks are always looking to ascend by way of permanent elimination of the upper nobility.”
Hamish frowned. Disputes amongst the nobility in Tirglas generally involved whole clans feuding. Eliminating those higher up was often a cause of battles, not the end. Clearly, the people had no loyalty for their leaders. “Have you ever been—”
“No,” Darshan replied before Hamish could finish asking. “Any poisons that make it as far as the palace do not have a habit of bypassing my father’s personal guard. But he likes to ensure all his children are capable of defending themselves.”
Hamish nodded. Whilst it was harder to grasp the idea of deliberately poisoning an enemy, being able to defend against an attack was an easier concept. His whole life, from the moment he could wield a weapon, had been forged around the idea that history could one day repeat itself and he would be forced to defend the castle, or even become the only one left like in the old tales his mother always spoke of.
“Wait a minute,” he mumbled, his thoughts circling back to what the ambassador had said earlier. He nudged his mare closer to Darshan. “If you can mend bone and clear poison from your blood, then why are you so dependent on those?” He indicated the man’s glasses with the twirl of a finger.
Seemingly taken aback, Darshan pushed his glasses further up his narrow, hook-like nose. “Well, it is not that simple. I can heal, yes, but I am no healer.”
“The difference being?” He could understand there being a difference if magic wasn’t involved. Hamish had long since been brought up on the idea that cloistered spellsters were only allowed to leave their cloisters to work healing magic, and only then during epidemics or wars. During ordinary times, most people had to make do with medicine men and sawbones. “I thought magic could do anything?” Hamish would often have his ear bent with feats performed by spellsters in other lands.
Darshan turned his attention towards the view of the harbour.
Hamish slumped into his saddle. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get much from the man there. They rode on, the only noise breaking the stillness between them coming from the muffled crunch of hooves on the road.
After a while, Darshan cleared his throat with a mighty cough. “I think you are confusing magic with a tool. It can be that, it can also be a weapon, but it is, first and foremost, an extension of the self. Which is why some things come easily; shields, minor deflections, the small heat of a flame. They are little more than the will made solid.”
“And healing isnae one of these easy things?”
Darshan shook his head. “Would you say your bow was easy the first time? Or a sword? Healing is skill and training and art all bundled into one immensely twisted knot. Just starting down its path demands one completes an extensive study on what is required for particular parts to mend.”
Hamish peered at the ever-nearing castle gate. He couldn’t spy any extra guards or a sign that anyone was waiting on their return. Maybe they could linger a little longer, learn a little more of what spellsters were capable of. “Such as?” he pressed, gently encouraging this horse into a shuffling plod.
The ambassador adjusted his own mount’s speed to match almost subconsciously. “Take our skin for instance.” He twisted in his saddle. An eager spark lit his eyes, making his whole face glow. “That is the easiest healing magic and usually the first taught. Our bodies are built to repair it quickly—not as much as elves, of course.” He waved a hand, seeming to dismiss the fact. “But healing any species only increases the body’s natural process. Bone is a little harder, but considered as basic field training. Organs are trickier, best left to experienced minds, and even then their successes vary wildly. Not having just enough knowledge, or the wrong kind, can kill a patient as cleanly as any blade.”
“Or blind them?”
They passed through the castle gates. Guards on both sides saluted them. Hamish returned the gesture with a warm smile and a nod. None of the guards seemed twitchy or mildly concerned with their appearance so late in the day. That had to mean his mother hadn’t yet returned from the farm.
“Eyes are all but impossible to get right,” Darshan continued, seemingly oblivious to the men and women around them. “There have been attempts, but the success rate is not exactly sparkling. The idea of having otherwise serviceable vision lost for vanity has never sat well with me. There is far less risk in a good pair of glasses.”
Dismounting, Hamish led his mare to the stables. “Unless you’re brawling a great deal?” he shot over his shoulder. How many of those glasses did Darshan have with him? He’d be daft to think the man had travelled so far with just the one pair. “And you clearly have been in a few scraps before.” Or at least come up against a man like Billy before to know he would have to throw a punch like that to keep the dockmaster down.
Darshan grinned, wide and feral. The cockiness that’d fallen away when he spoke of healing now snapped back into position. “I have been in a few. More than my father would like me admitting. Strike first, if you must,” he deepened his voice, clearly mimicking someone. “That is what he would say. Hard, fast and first. Then make sure they stay down.” That dark chuckle returned as he slid from the saddle. “Won a lot of scraps that way. Although, it probably helped that most of them knew who I was.”
Hamish glanced up from handing his own mount over to a stablehand. It hadn’t occurred to him to explain that detail to the dockmaster, not that it would’ve stopped Big Billy if he was itching for a fight. “To be honest, I didnae think you were that strong.” He had witnessed others trying their luck with the dockmaster. Not many could beat the man, but those who could hold their own were generally just as bull-like as Billy.
The spellster’s grin wavered, growing a little shy as he peered around Warrior’s back. “If you promise not to tell anyone… I sort of cheated there. You can, if one is as well-practised in healing as I, bolster natural strength with magic. Just for time, a very short time. Pushing that boundary can run the risk of tearing the very muscles apart.”
Hamish clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, steering him out of the stables and towards the castle doors. “Then it’s just as well you laid him out with one punch.”
Darshan winced, then visibly collected himself. “I suppose you expected to be carrying my broken body back. I did have a shield up, not that you would have seen it. If he had tried to hit me, he would not have mad
e it far.”
A shield? They could make those with magic? No wonder the spellster had faced Billy so calmly. And an invisible one, to boot. Hamish scratched at his chin. If he could hunt knowing he couldn’t get hurt, he’d probably go after more of the troublesome bears and boars. “What I actually thought was that you didnae understand him,” he confessed.
The ambassador shook his head. “I have no idea what he said, but I assumed it was derogatory by your reaction.”
“Then why’d you heal his jaw?” Most brawlers would’ve been more than content in leaving Billy broken and bleeding. Doubly so if the man had insulted them.
Darshan mumbled something as they entered the castle proper.
“What was that?” The snippets Hamish had caught hadn’t sounded like any of the Udynean he’d heard. Just a long word that he couldn’t say with all certainty wasn’t actually the man cussing.
“Just an ancient Domian motto. Translates to Offer mercy to the wounded, it confuses the enemy. My father still trots that one out whenever my sisters squabble.” He glanced up at Hamish, the inner corners of his brows lifting in concern. “I suppose I should apologise… for my behaviour.”
Hamish scoffed. “Dinnae fash. Nae many people can say they’ve knocked Big Billy down a peg or two. It was actually kind of fun watching you kick his arse.”
“No, no. That was—” The man bit his lip, his brows lowering slightly in thought. “I meant what transpired before then. It was completely my fault and I—” Huffing, he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I am usually better at this.”
“At kissing men in pubs?” Hamish gently prodded. He had been trying—and failing terribly—to forget that part had happened. His lips tingled at the mere mention.
Darshan laughed, the sound light and with a hint of nervousness. Had he been told what had happened to the last man Hamish had been with? “Well, I did just spend several rather wretched months aboard a ship, so I cannot say it is something I have indulged in recently. But I usually conduct myself with a little more decorum before it gets that far. In public, at least.” He rubbed his neck. “It would seem your Tirglasian drinks loosened me a little faster than I had believed.”
“Oh aye?” On the edge of his vision, he spied the unmistakable sight of his mother storming around the corner and coming their way, flanked by two of the guard. His stomach dropped. He’d been hoping to avoid a confrontation, at least until morning. “Hold that thought.”
“What did you think you were doing?” his mother screeched before she had fully walked the length of the hall. “I cannae believe that after our agreement, you would kiss—”
“Actually,” Darshan blurted. The man stepped between Hamish and his mother, the majority of his body turned to the side so as to not quite be seen directly confronting her. “I kissed him.”
His mother didn’t miss a step. She bore down on them, her forefinger raised like a dagger. “You? How dare you bring this corruption into me home.”
The ambassador straightened to his full height. Although his face had settled into a mask of haughty indifference, fire and anger flashed in his eyes. Still, he didn’t fully face her.
“Mum,” Hamish interjected, shame burning his cheeks. He wasn’t a boy of ten stealing kisses from stable boys. However he felt about Darshan kissing him—and he was still trying to process everything that had happened—he was quite capable of dealing with it.
“Bad enough that I must still deal with your sort under me roof, but that you think you can lay your filthy hands on me son and corrupt him with your ungodly influence is unacceptable.”
Darshan’s mask wavered. His nostrils flared and there was the twitch of his jaw speaking of a retaliatory tongue barely restrained.
“Mum,” Hamish pressed. It couldn’t be a good idea to upset a spellster, certainly not one strong enough to bring down a man twice his size. Surely Darshan was going to crack at any minute and she was going to end up stuck as a slug.
His mother jabbed a finger in his direction. “You are to be escorted to your quarters.” With a twitch of her head, she ordered the men flanking her. “See to it that he doesnae slink off elsewhere tonight.”
“What?” Darshan snapped, his voice tight with disbelief. “You are putting him under house arrest for a kiss?” All colour had drained from his face, turning his olive-brown skin a sickly shade. Those hazel eyes darted between Hamish and his mother, frantically seeking the truth.
“Aye,” Hamish’s mother snarled back. “For his own good.”
The guards’ hands had barely touched the back of his arms before Hamish shrugged them off. “I’m going.” He glanced over his shoulder at Darshan. A soft twinge of regret tightened his chest at the sight of the man weathering further berating at his mother’s hands.
I shouldnae have let him kiss me. He should’ve pulled away or pushed Darshan back. Anything to show he wasn’t a willing participant.
But no, he had just sat there like a lump, enjoying himself.
It’d been so long. Years—over a decade, at least—of denying himself any intimate contact. To know, after all that time, that he was still desirable… It had stolen all rational thought.
The guards led him to his quarters in silence. The dull thump of his door closing at his back might as well have been the metallic clang of a cage.
Hamish flopped back onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, watching as the last of the evening sun set. The room slipped into darkness, save for a single sullen candle grimly glowing on his dresser. He rolled his head and turned his attention to the tiny flame. His had burnt brighter. Had it really been just this morning gone that Darshan had shown his niece and nephews the ability to create fire from nothing?
His stomach rumbled a sullen inquiry as to the whereabouts of dinner. Someone might eventually remember to send some up, but it wouldn’t be enough. It hadn’t been the last time his mother locked him in here.
A faint knock broke the quiet.
Hamish lifted his head. There were only a few who would dare venture near his door after his mother’s tirade and he wasn’t certain if he wanted to speak with any of them. But then, they might also have food. “Aye?” he called out. “What are you after?”
The latch clicked and, as the door slowly opened, Gordon poked his head in. He glanced around the room before entering fully, bearing a covered tray. “We havenae been indulging in spontaneous decorating this time?” Shaking his head, Gordon shut the door and set the tray on the bedside table. “Must be serious.”
Grumbling under his breath, Hamish half-heartedly flung a pillow in his brother’s direction. “What do you want?”
“I was out and about, fetching dinner for me dear incarcerated brother, when some interesting news caught me ear. Something about you and the ambassador locking lips down at The Fisherman’s Cask.”
“And you just so happened to be drifting by to hear the whole thing?” Hamish couldn’t help laughing. There was the real reason why his brother had come a-calling. “You’re almost as bad a gossip as your wife was.”
“So,” his brother drawled. “Is it true? Did you actually kiss him?”
Hamish scoffed, pushing himself upright until he sat on the edge of the bed. “I wouldnae say that. More he kissed me.” Resting his elbows on his knees, he fisted his hair. “It’s nae fair, you ken? You slept with your wife well before she even won the union contest and you didnae get in trouble.”
Chuckling and shaking his head, Gordon plonked onto the bed. “I think your memory of events are a wee bit different to mine there. I got a right bollocking for it.” He bumped his boot against Hamish’s. “And, from what I hear, you didnae exactly stop him.”
Closing his eyes, Hamish’s thoughts drifted back to how Darshan’s lips felt against his. So very sure of himself. I should’ve kissed him back. That would’ve made being locked in here a little more bearable.
“Be careful, ‘Mish, you ken what Mum will do if her guards catch you.”
“It was
just a kiss.” But how he wanted more. In one moment, that man had reignited something he had thought long-snuffed. “And Mum’s already well aware of it, so there’s nae need to fash yourself over that. And I’ve nae plans to take it further. He willnae thank me if Mum has him kicked out of the kingdom.” The last thing Tirglas needed was to enter into a war with the Udynea Empire because his mother had offended one of the emperor’s children.
“I’m surprised you were nae subtler about it than last time.”
With his head still firmly resting in his hands, Hamish glared at his brother. “He asked to see a pub and I showed him. I didnae exactly expect him to snog me once he got a few drinks in him.”
“To be fair, you probably should’ve.”
He glared harder, pursing his lips for optimal glowering. Probably right. Not that it mattered. The fact Gordon would’ve thought of it whilst Hamish hadn’t was just another reason not to let his brother off easy.
“Dinnae look at me like that.” His brother gave his arm a shove, almost tipping Hamish off the bed. “Did I hear right in that he also fought Big Billy?”
“Aye.” A grin tugged at Hamish’s mouth, much has it had done in watching the belligerent man go down to someone half his weight. “And then dealt to a pair of Billy’s lackeys.”
“They say he broke Billy’s jaw?” His brother was clearly needling for more details.
Hamish was more than happy to give them. “Billy was doing his usual intimidation tactic. If I’m honest, he probably would’ve tried it even if we’d only had a few drinks. But Darshan, he took Billy out with one punch.” He swung his fist, mimicking the spellster’s action. “I didnae think Billy was expecting it. And then, Darshan went and healed the man.”
Gordon frowned at him. “What’d he go and do a thing like that for?”
He shrugged. “They believe mercy confuses people or something like that.” It certainly confused him. The reasoning behind it, at least. “I just think he was trying to show off. There cannae be many places in Udynea where you can scare a man with magic.”