by Aldrea Alien
His brother clapped an arm around Hamish’s shoulders. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like you had fun.”
“I’ll nae lie, I did.” A long time had passed since he’d been able to venture into a pub and not have one of his mother’s lackeys breathing down his neck. To just relax with a congenial companion was something he didn’t get outside of joining his brother.
“Do you want to see if I can arrange things so you two could…?” Gordon’s brows lifted suggestively. “Be alone? Together like?”
Hamish shook his head. “I cannae risk it again.” This wasn’t like the last time he was caught with a man. Yes, prematurely evicting the dwarven ambassador from Tirglas had resulted in a bitter response from their Coven of hedgewitches, but ultimately nothing further.
To do the same to a Udynean ambassador? A prince, no less? He didn’t want to be the cause of a war between his kingdom and a powerful empire. Whilst the mountainous Tirglasian terrain would be an inconvenience for any army in the short term, it wouldn’t matter if their spellsters chose to burn the forests.
His brother squeezed Hamish’s shoulders. “Listen to me when I tell you it’s nae healthy for you to spend the rest of your life like some virginal prince locked in a tower.”
Scoffing, Hamish rolled his eyes. “I’m nae locked away.” Most times, at least, he was free to roam the castle grounds. “I leave the castle every day. I hunt.” Sometimes, he’d camp out in the woods for days. “I even visit Caitlyn.” And it was a two-week round journey to the Cloister, a place that had become his sister’s home ever since the blossoming of her magic. Granted all that generally involved an escort, but where he went was his choice.
“But you always return.”
“You ken why I stay.” Leaving the castle on a permanent basis might raise a few eyebrows, but his mother would’ve found a way to cover it up. Likely by claiming he had been killed. Yet it was better to have his mother’s disappointment aimed at him than his nephew. Not that the lad’s time wouldn’t come, at least he would’ve lived his childhood not hating himself.
“All I’m suggesting is, if the man’s confident enough to kiss you in public, then maybe—”
Hamish was shaking his head before his brother could finish the sentence. “That’s nae happening. You remember what became of the last ambassador I took a liking to?” It had been over a decade ago, when the dwarves were in need of experienced hunters to keep them safe as they roamed the old ruins up on the mountains behind Mullhind.
His brother chuckled. “Aye. And I can still hear Mum’s shrill tone over that.”
And well he should. Especially since the guards had found Hamish in the guest quarters, on his knees orally servicing the dwarf. That the pair of them had gotten no further didn’t seem to matter. A kiss, it seemed, was too far for her liking. “He said I was phenomenal.”
“Sweet Goddess’ teats!” Gordon cried, clapping his hands over his ears and shooting him a disgusted look. “Did you have to—?” He shuddered. “Nae. That goes straight on the list of things I nae want to hear about, or from, me brother. Right at the top.”
Hamish snickered and waved his hand. “You can put your arms down, idiot. You only deserve that for letting your ears flap far too often.”
Gordon cautiously lowered his hands, eyeing Hamish as if suspecting foul play. “So, if you’re nae going after the man, what do you want to do about all this?” He waved a hand around the room. “You cannae sit here the whole time they’re negotiating.”
His brother was right on that last point. Whilst the only way he could avoid another incident with Darshan was to remain in his room, that wasn’t an acceptable solution. He still had his own duties and the ambassador could be here for weeks. “Visit Caitlyn?”
That had been his original plan. Especially after seeing how coolly his mother’s response had been to Darshan’s arrival. If he had gone immediately and spent the two-week round trip to see his younger sister, then the ambassador would’ve likely hammered out the details of the trade agreements and been off. It would’ve suited everyone perfectly.
He would’ve already been on his way if Darshan hadn’t expressed an interest in seeing a cloister and his mother had agreed to let the man go with him. That certainly wouldn’t be allowed now. “I just hope Mum doesnae do something daft.”
“You ken Mum,” Gordon said. “She’ll nae let it go easily.” He stood, giving Hamish a hearty pat on the back. “But I’ll see if I can talk her into us taking that trip. Or, at least, letting you out of your cell. In the meantime, dinnae forget your grub. I brought you extra.”
Hamish nodded his thanks before his brother left the room. I should never have let him kiss me. His brother was right in that he should’ve seen it coming. I’m a right idiot. Thirteen years and he went and screwed it up with the first man who had expressed an interest in him.
Darshan lay still on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had discarded his sleeping garments sometime during the night and, still, sweat beaded off his brow. The mattress beneath him was firm, unforgiving and overall hard. He rather wished it was the only thing that could’ve been described thusly, for it certainly didn’t help matters.
Groaning, he rubbed at his temple. His head might not ache from that ghastly concoction Hamish had dared to call alcohol, but ridding the after-effects of such toxins taxed his healing magic. He never much liked the weak feeling that came over him from an excessive use of his power, but he hadn’t any control over the latent healing.
How much of the damn stuff had he drunk? He had lost track after the second tankard, but it’d certainly not been enough to forget how much of fool he had acted.
So much for subtle. What had he been thinking, kissing the man in public like that?
Chuckling, he flung an arm across his face. Who was he fooling? “You knew exactly what you were thinking,” he muttered. Get an answer. Yes or no, one way or the other, he had to know his chances.
But what a response.
Even if Queen Fiona hadn’t blown the entire scenario all out of proportion, he would’ve known the truth. He had kissed men who weren’t as interested in him as they’d claimed. They didn’t lean into his kiss like Hamish had, and certainly didn’t flash him hot eyes afterwards.
It didn’t help that he used to have wet dreams about strong and gentle men like Hamish. The untamed but docile sort. Tall, rugged and hairy men just didn’t seem to exist back home. He hadn’t truly believed they existed at all until reaching Tirglas.
Grunting, he rolled onto his side to glare at the stark grey stone wall. It wasn’t fair. Sending him to this dismal place where men couldn’t enjoy themselves with a chaste kiss.
And to do anything a little more physical?
His thoughts were more than willing to spiral into knowingly forbidden depths. It already had a fair approximation, but what he wouldn’t give to know more…
He slid his hand down, taking a firm hold of himself. It’d been a long time since he had done anything as tame as use his hand on its own, but he’d been ruthlessly denied any of his usual toys. Being sent to Tirglas was meant to be his punishment after all.
Closing his eyes, he furiously moved his hand. Imagining it was a certain delicious redhead took some effort. Hamish’s hands were bigger—he recalled that much from their first meeting—calloused from years at archery.
A small moan eked through his lips. It wasn’t enough. Imagery could only get him so far.
If he had but one of his toys to—
Darshan bolted upright. Surely one must have made its way past keen eyes and aboard the ship. He jumped to his feet to rummage through his travelling chest, desperate. He had spent months aboard that wretched ship, surrounded by women and with nothing better to idle away the days than to learn of this stodgy kingdom.
Anything would do.
Yes! Buried at the very bottom was a small wooden box, still wrapped in one of his drawers. Disturbing the toy inside revealed a small vial of oil tuck
ed into the velvet cushioning. The toy itself wasn’t much to look at; reputably modelled on the average man back home and curved just slightly to hit the right spot. It couldn’t replace an actual hot, flesh-and-blood being, but it would do for now.
His hands shook as he hastily applied the oil, spilling some onto the dark wood floor. Then he was back on the bed, no longer lamenting the mattress’ lack of give as he lowered himself onto the toy. A soft grunt wisped out his nose at the slight burn as eagerness overtook his usual care. He worked through the feeling, which quickly faded thanks to his innate healing abilities.
If he were home, alone and with no desire to seek out company, he would’ve settled down to a little reading be it a saucy story or some naughty poetry. The kind that’d make prostitutes blush. But those had all been confiscated along with the rest of his toys.
He tipped back, squirming ever so slightly across the blankets. Arching on the bed, he slipped one hand beneath him. His fingertip touched the smooth metal disc nestled in the toy’s base, pushing the final inch in.
Steadying his breath, he sent a small pulse through the metal. A tiny amount would be all he’d need at this point.
The toy vibrated deep inside him, amplified by the metal core, slowly fading and eking out a shuddering groan from his lips. Another pulse, longer, just enough to let the vibration build, to push him that little bit higher.
He turned his thoughts towards Hamish. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to touch, but he could certainly imagine. He ground his rear on the bed, convincing himself it was that delicious hulk of a man who was currently in him. A soft moan slipped from his lips, his imagination easily conjuring up visions.
His finger on the toy slipped. Darshan hastened to readjust, grinding against it. With his free hand, he grasped himself and stroked, each movement trembling. He sent a fresh burst through the toy, a spark of lightning this time. The buzz it set off had his hips bucking.
There was no chance of lasting after that.
He lay still, unable to do more than tremble and pant as the residual magic in the toy petered out. Wow. He hadn’t reacted so strongly to one in quite some time. Perhaps there was some merit in that denial theory some of the scholars back home preached about.
This wouldn’t rid himself of the dreams, though. No more than it had in the past. But it had taken the edge off. It might even let his mind think clearly on other matters after his heart stopped pounding through his temples like an ancient dwarven war drum.
A timid rap on the door broke through his reverie.
He stared at the door handle for several thundering heartbeats, his chest heaving. Had he actually thought to lock the door last night? Or was the servant just too polite? Either way, he didn’t think he had the strength to decently cover himself.
“Yes?” he managed.
“I didnae mean to wake you, your highness,” a small voice replied. “But Her Majesty is waiting for you in the study.”
“Of course.” He leapt to his feet. A dull thud heralded the toy hitting the floor. Blast. Years had passed since he had been that forgetful or used so much oil. “Inform Queen Fiona I shall be forthwith.” Scooping up the toy, he bundled it into a rag and threw it into the travelling chest. He would deal with it later. Right now, it’d be best to not have such an item lying around where innocent eyes could just stumble upon it.
He made his way to the royal study only after he could be completely certain he had scrubbed away the smell of exertion down to the smallest trace. Applying the customary kohl around his eyes was a far more taxing task than usual, with his hands still shaking, but leaving without it just wouldn’t do.
The study was small, practically minuscule in comparison to the vast chamber his father used back home. He supposed the fact there were only two people to deal with rather than the imperial trade coterie helped in that sense.
Queen Fiona glanced up as he entered, those ice-blue eyes harder than yesterday. “I see we have deigned to join us,” she haughtily announced as if she hadn’t been the one to cut their talks short yesterday.
Wonderful. His gaze darted to Nora. The woman might sit at her mother’s side, but she certainly didn’t seem on it. “My apologies. I overslept.” He settled into the chair positioned on the opposite side of the table and thumbed through his notes. “I believe we were discussing the tariffs on linen?”
“We had gone past that,” Nora tapped on a piece in her own notes, which were scattered between herself and her mother. “We had even agreed on a percentage.”
They had? Frowning, Darshan shuffled madly through his sheaf of parchment. There. A note scribbled in a corner to confirm with his father’s council on the lowest amount he could negotiate with. “Ah, I believe I am still waiting on the pigeon with the official response.” Fortunately, the bird would only need to make the nearest Udynean town. They had faster methods of communication, but alas, being that they relied heavily on magic, he had been barred from bringing such a convenience into the kingdom. “Should we move on to the wool or the leather?”
“Actually, I’d like to focus on the imports, if you dinnae mind? Specifically, iron.”
Darshan nodded. He recalled that, whilst the mountainous Tirglasian countryside might offer an abundance of ores, iron was rather scarce. That would’ve been fine some centuries back, when even the Ancient Domian Empire had only mastered bronze tools, but not in this day and age. “Yes, I have been authorised to trade raw iron and steel ingots from the mines and mills in Oldunmere.”
“That’s…” Nora swivelled in her seat to glance at the large tapestry on her right. Someone had taken great pains to stitch out an elaborate map of the known world, right down to the small plague islands dotted beyond the shores of the Stamekian capital city.
At any other time, Darshan would’ve marvelled at such work. Now, he had to resist the urge to fidget. “You will find Oldunmere is above the Shar, your highness. The big lake in the middle.”
“Ah.” She turned back, one sandy brow arched. “That’s quite a distance. And inland at that.”
He inclined his head in agreement. “The mines closest to your border are regrettably absent of the materials you seek and the ones near Minamist are, as I understand it, not on the table.”
“And what if we really wanted them?” Queen Fiona murmured. “Could we nae just go in and take them?”
Darshan stared at her. It almost sounded as if she was suggesting her people would invade the Udynea Empire. For iron the imperial citizens would gladly trade. He had to be missing something. “I do not understand.”
“I welcomed you into me home. We dined together as allies.”
“Mum,” Nora said, her stern voice an absolute joy to hear after her mother’s sharpness. “I ken you’re pissed, but could we get back to discussing the actual reason he’s here?” She tapped on the pile of scrolls and loose sheets of parchment. “This is in everyone’s interest.”
Queen Fiona continued to bore her icy gaze into Darshan without a hint she had heard her daughter. “You repaid me hospitality by defiling me son.”
Scoffing, Darshan rolled his eyes. One kiss, it seemed, was enough to have him thrown in the same dank category as criminals. “Your son was hardly shocked by the act. I would even hesitate to say he was mildly stunned.” And Hamish wasn’t the only one to exhibit a rather reduced level of surprise. Queen Fiona had been angry, yes, but not in the least bit taken aback. “Honestly, it was a kiss. You are acting as if I bent him over the counter and had my way with him then and there.”
No sooner than the words had left his mouth did he spy Nora trying to hide a wince.
“Nae doubt, if it hadnae been for one of me people causing a ruckus that is exactly what you would’ve done next.”
Darshan shot to his feet, the chair crashing behind him. How dare she! He was not some animal. He had morals. Limits.
The air, especially directly around his hands, was far too hot. He fussed with his sleeves, trying to calm himself. Any greater a temperat
ure and there would be combustion. He couldn’t risk that. Not here, surrounded by at least a dozen flammable, and very important, objects.
“It would seem you are not in the mindset to discuss things civilly.” As much as his pride demanded he didn’t let the insult slide, allowing the queen to calm down would surely be a far better outcome for his land in the end. He turned to face Nora and bowed. “I do apologise, your highness, but I doubt any negotiating can be done until your mother has composed herself. I will take my leave until then.” Graciously giving Queen Fiona a slightly deeper bow than he had offered her daughter, he strode out of the room.
He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when the sound of pursuit caught his ear. He whirled about to meet the threat head-on, the purple shimmer of his shield snapping around him.
What he came face to face with was Nora.
She stared at him, wide-eyed and a touch fearful. Then her gaze grew slightly unfocused as she reached out to lay a hand on the barely-visible barrier between them, jerking back with a gasp once she met resistance. She peered at her fingers as if not quite believing what they had felt. Had any of the royal family met a spellster before?
Darshan let the shield dissipate. If the woman had any intention of being a threat to his life, she likely would’ve made an attempt on it yesterday, when they were alone in the library for the entirety of the morning. “Has Her Majesty calmed herself so quickly?”
Nora shook her head. “Me mum doesnae do calm very well.” She glanced over her shoulder, then without moving her head, peered at him out the corner of her eye. “I ken things are done differently in Udynea, but—”
“No.” He cut the woman off with a swipe of his hand in the air. No matter whether or not she would be more reasonable in her tone, he wasn’t about to listen to the same lecture. “I am getting thoroughly sick of having to repeat this, but it was a kiss.” Such an innocent act wouldn’t have been given a second glance back home.