by Aldrea Alien
But he wasn’t in Minamist. He wasn’t even in Udynea. I really should’ve thought it through. Well, he hadn’t and now he had to deal with the consequences. “I will speak with you and your mother when she is ready to talk trade.”
Darshan stormed down the corridor, pounding his rage out through his heels. If they were going to treat him as some debauched heathen set on corrupting the entirety of the royal Tirglasian bloodline, then he was more than willing to accommodate them in acting like one.
~~~
Hamish tied the final loop around the fletching in his arrow. He held it up to the light, checking the binding, before setting it into the basket with the rest. The feathers would need trimming later, but that task wasn’t as time-consuming or relaxing as the initial binding. In any case, whilst he was allowed to have much of the tools for fletching in his room, a knife wasn’t one of them.
His stomach gurgled a rough demand of food as he picked up another arrow shaft. Ignoring the reminder that breakfast had been quite some time ago wasn’t easy, but he managed to concentrate on his task.
The faint creak of his door opening unannounced drew his attention.
Hamish glared at the handle, waiting for the person on the other side to speak. Had the guards finally come with lunch? About bloody time. He squared his shoulders, readying himself to give whoever was on the other side one hell of a verbal bollocking. If anyone thought they could sneak into his room and leave without him noticing, he was going to leave them with no doubt there.
A mop of dark brown hair preceded the soft glint of glasses and the brightness of gem-studded silk.
Darshan? Hamish leapt to his feet, knocking over the basket of arrows and scattering its contents in his wake.
The man winced as he quietly closed the door. “I am dreadfully sorry. It was not my intention to startle you, but I thought it prudent not to shout out my whereabouts.”
Hamish dropped to his knees, shaking his head as he hastily collected the arrows. Whilst he appreciated the caution, that wasn’t his immediate concern. When the last arrow was back in the basket, he cast a furtive glance around him. The spellster was here. In his room. Alone. “How…?” he rasped in answer, shock stealing his breath for the brief moment it took to clear his throat. “How did you get by the guards?”
Darshan frowned and indicated the door with his thumb. “There are meant to be guards out there?”
Hamish bolted for the door. Sure enough, jerking it open revealed nothing but empty corridors. How long had they been gone? They generally made an announcement of their departure from guarding his door at dawn, but he’d been under the impression that his confinement would be until the ambassador had left. Especially seeing they had brought him breakfast.
He’d bloody missed lunch for nothing.
“Are you often kept locked away?”
He turned back to Darshan, shutting the door behind him. The man seemed genuinely concerned. “You shouldnae be here.” If Darshan was discovered in Hamish’s room, then that would be the end of any negotiating.
Like a scolded child, Darshan rubbed at his arm. “I gathered that, but I wanted to apologise. Properly. I am not entirely certain what I was thinking.”
Hamish leant back on the door, folding his arms. “Really?” Amazing that, even with a whole continent separating them, a Udynean prince could come up with the same paltry defence as a common Tirglasian sailor. “Pretty sure I ken where your mind was at.”
Darshan chuckled mirthlessly. “Fair enough.” He paced before Hamish, his hands fluttering as he spoke. “I suppose you also expect me to blame it all on my intoxication, but when is that an acceptable excuse?” He shook his head. “In all honesty, I still had the wherewithal to know kissing you was a bad decision. I did know how unacceptable such actions are viewed here before it was made absolutely clear by certain parties. I chose to do it anyway.”
Hamish remained silent. The stance had already proven effective in eking out more information from the man when he was drunk. Perhaps he would be likewise willing now he was sober.
Sure enough, Darshan continued, “I could wrap up my reasoning in pretty words if you like, but the core of it was that I needed to know if you would be amenable to further proposition. I am aware it is a wholly selfish reason. I make no excuses for it.” He bowed slightly, a mere dip of his head and shoulders. “And I deeply regret any suffering my actions may have caused you.”
“Aye?” Having a man apologise for their actions was certainly a first, and he had typically indulged in more than a chaste kiss with them. “Well, apology accepted.”
Darshan inclined his head a little more. “That is not the only reason I came here.” That hazel gaze lifted, barely seen through the upper half of his glasses. “I was worried about you.”
“M-me? Why?”
“I saw you flinch when you heard…” A faint tinge of distaste twisted his lips. “…her. Granted your mother fell upon us like a hell beast, but you had a look in your eye that spoke of enduring far worse than the tongue-lashing she gave. I came here to see if you were all right.”
“If I’m—?” He shook his head, trying to clear it. Was he dreaming? He must be. But Darshan still stood there, extremely real and concerned. No one else beyond his siblings, and occasionally his father, ever expressed any unease over his mother’s treatment of him. “Aye, I’m fine.”
“Was she aware about—” He indicated Hamish in his entirety. “—your preference before we kissed?”
“Preference,” Hamish grumbled. “I’ve never liked that word. It always comes with the intonation that another option is still viable. I’ve a preference for pork over venison, but I’ll eat either. It’s nae the same with this.”
Darshan slowly nodded. “I gathered as much. Allow me to rephrase, then. Is she aware that you like only men? I am assuming it is only.”
“Aye, it is.” Otherwise, he would’ve been married with children like his siblings. “And she is, although she’d prefer otherwise.” He peered at the man. “What of you?” He could assume they were the same, but he had long dismissed the idea of relying on assumptions when came to men’s desires.
“Well,” he drawled “To use your analogy, I am definitely a one-kind-of-meat man.” He looked about him. “If you are all right, then I guess I should leave before I make things harder for you.” He bowed and turned to the door.
“I’m sorry about what she said,” Hamish blurted as the man’s hand touched the handle. “I know she’s a wee bit harsh, but dinnae turn her into a slug or anything.” He peered at the spellster’s face, marking the slight confused furrow forming between his brows. “You cannae do that, can you?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
The tightness in Hamish’s chest eased some. That didn’t erase the possibility of a dozen other gruesome attacks, but it was one less to worry about. I cannae wait to tell Gordon. His brother had always believed spellsters to be capable of anything. “I’m still sorry that—”
“No, no.” Darshan held up his hand. “You need not waste your breath. The fault is mine. I admit it freely and I apologise again for putting you in that situation. I had rather forgotten where I was, but that should not excuse me.”
“But still, what she said was—”
The man dismissed the words with a flick of his hand, his gaze deflecting to skim the room. “I have been called far worse. Being a bad influence is the least of my sins.” He flashed a wolfish grin, one brow arching. “Although, judging by what I heard, you are somewhat less innocent than I thought you were.”
Hamish chuckled. The man really had been ignorant if he had thought, for even a moment, that Hamish was at all innocent. “That I am.”
“So,” Darshan purred. “I admit I have been wondering…” He sauntered across the space between them, slowly stroking the small amount of hair on his chin. “If the naughty prince has been bad before, just how bad does he want to be now?”
Swallowing, Hamish took a step backwards. That
the answer of ‘very’ almost slipped from his lips nearly had him bolting for the door. If we’re caught. Well, they still could be just standing here doing nothing. “I hope all this hasnae given you the wrong idea about me. Especially me mum.”
“She was very loud, I will give her that.” Darshan halted before him, his dark brows lowering in thought. “But I think it is more a case of your mother’s tirade over an innocent little kiss that has given me the right idea, namely that you have locked lips with other men in the past.”
“Aye.” Hamish managed, the word little more than a gust of breath.
“And, if I am not mistaken in that you have done something like this quite a few times…” The man’s gaze finally settled on Hamish’s face, those hazel eyes warm, wanting and that little bit uncertain. “Then perhaps, you have done quite a bit more?”
“That too.” Although there would be a lot more bulk to the men he usually rutted with. He would’ve been concerned that Darshan might actually break if they attempted anything, but the vision of the man knocking out Big Billy was still fresh in his memory.
“Well, the mind positively boggles.” He slowly walked his fingers up Hamish’s undershirt. “Just how far have you gone?”
He shrugged, his face warming. Was this how most Udyneans acted around each other or was it just how Darshan did? “Far enough to get me into trouble,” he admitted.
Darshan wet his lips. “I would like to explore this further, if that is what you also want, of course.”
If? This was not a matter of if.
The spellster frowned. Whatever action he seemed to have expected from that declaration, Hamish clearly hadn’t done. “Would you rather not? I would never—” He held up his hands in surrender. “I do not want you thinking you are obligated to a positive response.” Sighing, he hung his head. “My apologies, I am not usually the one doing the propositioning.”
I can believe that. A son of the emperor would likely only need to express a mild interest in a person for them to throw themselves at his feet. Hamish shook his head. “It’s nae that.”
“Am I not to your taste, then?” There should’ve been heat in that question, or at least a little bitterness. But Darshan’s voice remained light and calm.
“I have nae taste.” The words were out before Hamish could consider them. Hearing them aloud had his cheeks flushing hotter than any summer day could make them. “That’s— I didnae mean— That came out wrong.”
Darshan laughed. He might’ve given a little snort and tried to quickly cover his amusement by clearing his throat, but it was definitely laughter.
“Sure,” Hamish mumbled, his face heating further. Was that what this was going to be like? He’d fumble and the man would laugh at him? “That you understand straight away.”
“I do not need you to tell me. I can see the lack of taste.” The man spread his arms wide and spun on the spot, gesturing at the room. “One only needs to take in the ghastly decor.”
“Hey!” Yes, carved figurines from his childhood still lay scattered about various shelves, along with small trinkets his niece or nephews had brought him during their excursions. Only his bow, gifted to him when he’d reached manhood, had an actual place where it belonged, but he would hardly call it horrible.
“Not that it is entirely without redeeming features,” Darshan added, a mischievous smile plumping his cheeks. “A few throw rugs, some gauzy curtains… getting rid of the antlers.”
Hamish’s gaze swung to the pair of antlers set above his bed. They had come from a magnificent twenty-pointer three autumns back. It had fed a good portion of the nearby village, too. He turned back to find Darshan grinning at him. “You’re nae serious, are you?”
“A bit.” Those hazel eyes lowered, creasing at the corners. “Forgive me.” The man’s whole chest shook in mirth as he spoke. “Do continue. It has been some years since I got anyone flustered.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Oh?” Darshan rocked back on his heels, mock surprise lifting his brows. “He does flattery, too? You are most welcome to continue babbling nonsense at me, if you like. I can wait.”
For once, Hamish wished he had the time to spare. Then he’d find out just how much patience the man really had. “Do you think I have nae experience in this?”
Genuine surprise danced in Darshan’s eyes and raised just a single brow. “No, I—” His lips twisted sourly before he ran a hand over them, mussing his moustache. Huffing, the man turned from him. “The thought did cross my mind,” he confessed, the words muffled. He waved his hand flippantly. “One can hardly determine much from a single kiss.” His gaze settled on Hamish, uncertainty flickering to life in their depths. “Am I moving too quickly for you?”
Hamish shook his head. If anything, this was the slowest he had ever gone with a man since his first time.
“Allow me to make myself perfectly clear on the matter. I am aware of how this is viewed in your kingdom.” He reached out, a timid hand alighting on Hamish’s chest. Warmth soaked through his undershirt. “I want you, make no mistake about that, but not if it means further strife for yourself. If you want me to bac—”
He cupped Darshan’s jaw, marking the faint hitch in the man’s breath. “What I want…” A smirk took his lips upon recalling Darshan’s original question. Hamish wrapped an arm around the ambassador’s waist, drawing them closer together. “…is to be very bad.” He caught the soft gust of Darshan’s gentle laughter and a flash of a grin before he claimed the man’s mouth with his own.
Darshan sagged against him. He made a small noise in the back of his throat. Not quite a whimper, but not deep enough to be a moan. The sound raced down Hamish’s spine, running straight to his groin. He hadn’t heard a noise so unashamedly needy in years.
“Your mouth tastes like sin,” the spellster purred against his lips.
Hamish grinned. “I’d hold off on any such declarations. I havenae started sinning, yet.” He drew the man’s lips back to his, prepared to make good on that promise.
Hamish slanted his mouth over Darshan’s, their tongues twirling around each other. This was familiar, like a dance. Dim though, as if it were a distant memory or dream.
Still, he recalled the steps.
Darshan’s hands slid up Hamish’s shoulders, a soft moan escaping the man’s mouth. The gentle kiss Hamish had started with was met with unabashed passion. It set his head spinning.
When he paused to catch his breath, the raw desire pouring off Darshan seemed ready to ignite the very air.
The man’s fingers slunk up Hamish’s neck and carried on to entwine into the thick coils of his hair. Darshan pressed against him, necessitating that Hamish grab the man’s hips. The spellster seemed to take it all in stride, grinding against Hamish.
That was new. Any other man would be halfway through with hauling down his trousers. Was Darshan waiting for some sort of signal from Hamish? He hadn’t ever actually taken the lead before, always being the receptive one. And he’d thought after the man’s boldness in the pub…
His hands shook as he tightened his hold on Darshan’s hips and took the first step back. Terror and expectation mingled in Hamish’s muscles as the spellster practically flowed after him into the centre of the room and towards the bed. His room. His bed. Not once had he ever been brave enough to let anyone take him here.
His gaze slid cautiously to the door, as if it might swing open at the mere thought. Nothing could stop that. It may remain closed at the moment, but he couldn’t lock it. We shouldnae do this. Not here. The guards could, theoretically, return at any time.
And if they found him with the Udynean ambassador?
“Hamish?” They had broken the kiss at some point. Darshan stared up at him, the corners of those hazel eyes creased with concern. “You do want to do this now, do you not?”
If nae now, then when? They might never get another chance like this and he would only wind up kicking himself if he let this opportunity slip away. “So
rry. I was just—” Hamish took another few steps back towards his bed, coaxing Darshan to follow with a gentle tug of the man’s arm. Maybe if they were quick.
Darshan’s cocky smile returned. No trace of nerves. He’d likely never concerned himself about being caught in the act, probably indulged in his desires on the regular. Still, his bejewelled fingers seemed to tremble slightly as he picked at the few buttons holding the neck of Hamish’s shirt closed.
Hamish stepped back again, this time, ensuring the man didn’t follow him. The back of his knees touched the bed frame. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing you? Generally, nakedness is involved.” Darshan fussed with the collar of his knee-length coat—a sherwani he had called it—undoing buttons Hamish still couldn’t make out amongst the embroidery running down the front of the outfit. “Unless you would prefer to do it yourself?”
“Fully?” Most of his times had involved no more undressing than the quick downing of trousers and smalls.
Darshan paused in tugging one of his boots free. “Are you certain you have experience with this?”
“Aye.” Was that the something the spellster had expected from him? “Just… nae here.” He spread his hand, indicating the room. A large percentage of his time rutting involved a dark place in a pub’s storage. “And nae fully naked.”
Frowning with his other still-booted foot awkwardly held in his hands, Darshan shook his head. “That simply will not do.” He hauled the boot off and tossed it to one side. There was a shimmer in the air between them.
Firm, but gentle, pressure from the very air hit Hamish’s chest, tipping him off-balance. Having no chance to right himself, he fell back onto the mattress. He propped himself on his elbows. Had that shimmer been magic? Aye. The act had been so precise.
Darshan planted himself between Hamish’s parted knees. He stared down at Hamish, his arms folded and a wolfish grin parting his lips.
The sight sent a shudder through Hamish that tingled and pooled in his groin. Every dark story he had ever heard of spellsters flooded his mind, rendering him incapable of speech. How much of what he had been told was true? It was a bit late to worry about having his soul stolen through a kiss, but what of other things?