by Aldrea Alien
Hamish chuckled, the sound heavy and mirthless. “You talk big for someone who’s only been here a few days.”
Darshan grinned. It was hard to remember only two days had passed since that kiss in the pub. His soul was so at ease around Hamish that if felt like he’d known the man for years. “And I relish the thought of spending many more in your presence, getting to know you.”
“Tonight then.”
He would need to tread with utmost care. Patience in these matters wasn’t his forte, not when he truly desired something, but he would do his best to contain himself. It could only work in his favour. Be discreet. And wait. “Tonight.”
Darshan practically jogged down the stairs, skipping off the final step and into the corridor. He hadn’t felt this giddy since his teenage years. He’d never had to anticipate sex before. Not for more than an hour, anyway.
Surprisingly, the mere thought of it set his heart racing. He foresaw very little chance of them not being compatible.
Calm. If he got himself too worked up over tonight’s possibilities, he would never make it until then. He would have to ensure everything was ready. As well as account for the likelihood of an interruption.
Fortunately, the castle chamberlain had gifted him with a key to the guest room on his first day here. Locking the door should slow the guards if they turn up as Hamish feared. What he’d do then, Darshan wasn’t entirely certain, but he swore he’d make good on his promise to stand by his lover’s side should things turn sour.
Potential lover, he staunchly reminded himself. They weren’t quite there yet, but he was rather optimistic. And eager to please.
His thoughts drifted back to yesterday, of the hot press of Hamish over him, his weight passively pinning him to the mattress. He had almost lost his mind when Hamish had manhandled him, lifting him like he weighed nothing. And the ferocious way he’d claimed Darshan with his mouth, consuming like a starving man. To have to contain himself for over a decade…
Well, he did like his men feisty and there was a definite keenness lurking beneath the uncertain facade. If Hamish made love with the same passion simmering under the surface, Darshan would either find himself faced with a lust-hungry beast or something more akin to a giddy virgin. Best prepare for either option. Although, the latter seemed more likely given the man’s temperament.
Darshan slowed to glance up at the sky as he sauntered by a window. He never could quite grasp the art of telling the time of day beyond a few basics. What had Hamish claimed the hour was before he had descended? Late afternoon. That left him with precious little time to bathe and make himself presentable.
Had they really spent so long talking? They’d mostly spoken about frivolous things; like how the ruin Darshan had seen poking through the trees in the distance were the remains of a cloister, or that Hamish wasn’t fond of the colour blue. That last bit had been a surprise, any noble back home who’d been blessed with eyes as vibrant as Hamish’s would seek out ways to complement them. And there were so many ways.
He was vaguely aware of rounding a bend in the corridor, his thoughts lost to the possibilities.
Already, he could picture the man sporting a sherwani that accented such a trait. Understated. Off-white with a bit of ice-blue brocade. Or just the gems themselves, sparkling out between the silver and pearl needlework. He would need a scarf to match, although that might take a little persuading. Perhaps a deep ocean blue—not quite black, but close—would be best. Or something in slate.
“Your highness,” a familiar woman’s voice called out, jolting him from his reverie.
Darshan glanced over his shoulder to find Nora trotting after him, clutching a leather satchel that seemed to contain quite a few pieces of parchment. He slowed, but made no effort to stop. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk trade, especially not with Queen Fiona.
“Where were you?” Nora demanded as if he were a wayward child. She fell into step with him. “I looked everywhere for you.”
A quick survey of their surrounding confirmed they were alone. “Evidently not, but to answer your question: I was on the eastern tower.”
She shot him a confused look. “Not that one near the cliff edge.” Her nose scrunched further as he nodded. “What were you doing up there? They abandoned that tower years ago in favour of the new watchtower. I wouldnae think it’d hold much of interest, it’s practically a shell and the view is nothing to harp about.”
He smiled. Similar words had once left his lips of the view back home, until he had stumbled upon a visiting dignitary from the northern edge of Udynea admiring the docks. Familiarity leant itself to blindness. “I would disagree on that front. There was a great deal to look at and I thoroughly enjoyed the view.”
“Of the harbour?” The corridor they were travelling down split into two. Nora took the left one and Darshan idly trailed her. “I thought Minamist was also a port city?”
He inclined his head. “You are correct there.” Although, comparing the two was a little like oil and water.
The bay of his home city was huge, although not quite as massive as the Shar, a lake which took up a good portion of the lower half of the Udynea Empire’s land. Called Sinus Luminis when under the control of the Domian Empire, a civilisation that had fallen centuries ago, the Bay of Light was now the territory of both the Udynea Empire and the neighbouring imperial lands of Stamekia. Only a small strip of shallow water, nicknamed the Throat of Death by sailors, kept the harbour from being an actual lake.
To compare that bay to the hook-like inlet that shaped Tirglas was almost an insult. The deep blue waves that lapped at the shores here were nothing in comparison to the crystal-blue waters of home. To look upon the Bay of Light was to bear witness to how the gods could take the essence of a simple jewel and turn it to liquid.
His gaze dropped pointedly to the satchel. It looked a great deal like the one she’d had sitting beside her during their last attempt at settling trade. Had Queen Fiona managed to reel in her poisonous tongue so quickly? It seemed at odds with what Hamish had divulged. “How is it I may be of assistance?” Whilst he was in no mood to deal with the woman’s mother, shunning Nora as a matter of course sounded more like something one of his petty sisters would do.
“I was thinking that we could retire to the library and discuss trade.”
Darshan fought down a groan. If he allowed Nora to steal away what time he had left to him before Hamish’s arrival at the guest quarters, he could quite possibly return there to find the man had already visited and left.
But, as much as he would’ve liked to, putting pleasure before duty was how he had gotten here. “You do realise that, without the queen’s final approval, anything we agree on here is ultimately fruitless.”
“Perhaps.” They reached an intersection in the corridor and Nora indicated for him to take the left passage with the gentle sweep of her hand. “But if we hammer out the fine details, then we can limit the time you need to be in me mum’s good graces.”
Darshan grunted. Given what he’d heard so far of the woman’s behaviour towards her son, and the more recent outburst at his innocent kiss, being able to avoid extended exposure to her toxic presence would be a boon. Of course, that didn’t stop her from making this whole negotiation difficult by simply refusing his terms.
“I do not exactly have the paperwork on me,” he mumbled as if it wasn’t obvious he’d have the sheets locked up in his travel chest whenever they weren’t required. He could collect them easily enough, but that would only chew through more of his precious time.
Nora patted her satchel. “That’s nae a problem. And, since this is unofficial until me mum signs, we can renegotiate if me figures dinnae match yours.” She veered off to open a door that Darshan now recognised to be the entrance to the library. “Nae one will be in here at this hour.”
He followed her into the room, slightly amused. How long had she been quietly directing them here? It seemed a little too fortuitous to be coincidence.
&n
bsp; Inside, Nora dragged a second chair over to a table situated near the window. A heavy bronze candlestick sat in the middle of the table.
“It is awfully dim in here,” Darshan remarked, his focus falling on the candle. A faint mischievous, and slightly childish, impulse itched its way through his palms. “How about a little more light?” With the snap of his fingers, a flame flared to life on the wick.
Nora jumped back, a hand pressed flat to her chest. She stared at the candle, her moss-green eyes wide and slightly muddy in the dancing light. Swallowing, she lowered herself onto one of the chairs before setting her satchel on the table and pulling out its contents. “We,” she mumbled, her gaze seemingly tethered to the candle’s flame. “We were discussing the tariff on…” At last, she glanced down at her stack of parchment. “…iron imports before you left.”
“You mean before your mother made it quite clear that she would disapprove of me being in any way involved with her son?” Darshan quipped, plonking himself onto the other chair. He propped his bootheels on the table and leant back until he had the front chair legs off the ground. “I believe so.”
Nora’s lips pursed and she frowned at his boots with a disdainful glare that his Nanny Daama would’ve been hard-pressed to match, but ultimately the woman ignored his lack of decorum. Instead, she plucked a quill and inkwell from the table’s recess. “Shall we start there, then?”
“I suppose it is as good a place as any.” He held out a hand, gently coaxing a sliver of air to brush the topmost sheet of parchment into his grasp. It was a mess of notes and numbers, largely to do with the already agreed-upon tariffs of various ore exports. The amount of coal the Tirglasian mountainside held was almost sinful. Copper, too. Whilst both were in high demand throughout Udynea, the latter was in relatively short supply.
He stared blindly at the page. Had it really only been two days since that first negotiation attempt? If Queen Fiona hadn’t been called away then, leaving him to his own devices and, ultimately, the pub where he had kissed Hamish, he might’ve spent a week here at most.
Now?
“How soon do you think you shall be able to converse with your mother over these numbers?” Surely if anyone knew how long it would take for the queen to compose herself enough to not spew filth at him, it would be Nora. He could be here for weeks, maybe even months if the woman chose to be exceptionally petty and refuse whatever agreement Nora and himself came to.
Gods willing. He may have little desire to be stuck here at the whim of one person, but what waited for him back home? The same old transparent deceptions, substandard assassination attempts and trysts that had seen him sent here. He didn’t know if being with Hamish would be any different, but the chance to try was certainly an alluring one.
He slowly became aware of the distinct lack of response from the sole other occupant of the castle library. The uneasy silence drew his gaze up from the muddle of numbers and script to the woman.
Nora still sat on the other side of the table, although she’d gone terribly stiff and her face had definitely lost a certain amount of colour. She eyed the parchment in his hand as if he held a live man-killer serpent. He hadn’t witnessed such a reaction in all his life, not to painfully simple magic. Even Hamish and all three of her sons had only displayed polite curiosity at the presence of his laughably effortless flame trick.
Relishing in unnerving someone with such parlour tricks as floating paper was considered bad form back home. Still, he couldn’t stop the faintly amused twitch of his cheek. “We could discuss the linen percentage,” he said, hoping to shake her out of her shock. “I have a response from the trade council.” Not that he had it with him. “Although, I notice little mention of textiles. Is that on another page?”
“Text—” She frowned at the loose pages, shuffling through them in a daze. “Aye, they’re here.” She lifted a page from the middle of the pile, holding it out.
Again, he extended his hand and allowed a wisp of air to slide the page from her fingers into his grasp. Sure enough, the figures for linen took up a generous half of the page with a great many percentages crossed out. One set of figures was circled. It looked like what they had agreed upon. “Everything seems to be in order.”
“You could’ve just asked for it,” Nora muttered, barely audible.
Darshan tapped the side of his boot on the other. Where to start that wouldn’t lead them down the path of quibbling over a single percent? It was one thing to be fair on the tariff over linen—and the council had given him leave to be quite generous indeed—for their own flax fields were woefully incapable of handling the demand.
His eye caught mention of a textile he didn’t think Tirglasians would have much to spare. “You do, of course, realise that our need for wool is nowhere near as voracious as linen.” He handed the page back in a similar manner. A warmer climate, coupled with the local supply made the need for importing wool almost unnecessary, but he’d been tasked with setting up a beginning trade line for every resource the Tirglasian crown was willing to part with.
Nora inclined her head. “I also ken that the wool our sheep produce can be spun into a finer quality yarn than your breeds. The way I understand it, Udynean sheep are bred more for meat.”
He arched a brow at her. He hadn’t expected such a reply. Just how much did she know of his homeland? “You would be correct in that assumption. Clearly, our people are more concerned with being fed than donning woollen garments.”
“Your northern lands are nae much different from ours.”
Considering some of those very lands bordered Tirglas, mostly separated by a line of mountains, he wasn’t surprised. However, he doubted their presence alone would tilt the scale of demand for imported wool. “I shall need to send another messenger pigeon to the border, but I rather doubt they will wish for me to agree on anything as generous as my previous offers.”
Nodding, she slid the topmost page aside. “There was some mention of medicinal aid? Something our doctors would be able to utilise?”
Darshan gnawed on a thumbnail. He had arrived with a list of various medicinal herbs and their uses, which was in the guest rooms with everything else. Not being a doctor, he hadn’t paid much attention to their names, let alone the usage of each one. “To be honest, I would much rather discuss those after visiting a cloister.”
The woman pursed her lips as if sucking something distasteful. “You dinnae think me mum would still allow you to travel with me brother?”
Probably not. If he was to be honest with himself, then it would most certainly be a definite no. “I made no stipulations that it had to be. But since you brought it up, one travelling party, and thus one escort, would be a far more efficient use of your guards.” The gods knew that there wasn’t much chance of being alone with Hamish whilst on the move, but he’d settle for getting the man away from the confines of the castle and out from under Queen Fiona’s poisonous gaze. Even if it was only for a little while.
Nora set down the quill with a sigh. “Dinnae hurt me brother. Please? I ken he looks fearsome, but he’s as gentle as a wee lamb.”
Darshan steepled his fingers on his stomach. Had he become that transparent so quickly after leaving the Crystal Court’s deadly intrigue? And how far could he trust Nora with the truth given her closeness to Queen Fiona? “Your highness, I have no intentions of doing any such thing.”
The subtle tightening of her lips spoke several volumes towards her disbelief in that statement. “I meant what I said; I ken what it’s like in Udynea. He’s nae a plaything. You hurt him and you’ll be answering to the whole clan.”
He had already surmised as much. Still… “I do not take kindly to threats.” Not that he’d had many levelled at him. Most of those with enough status to attend the Crystal Court also had enough wits about them to be aware that threatening the Mhanek’s son could only end badly. Sadly, that didn’t include his half-sisters, the title-grabbing locusts that they were.
“And I am nae the kind of woman
to give them lightly.” Nora straightened in her chair. “But whilst me brother and I continue to share blood, I would be doing him a great disservice to let you walk all over him.”
Darshan hummed to himself, tapping a boot heel on the table. “I have changed my mind,” he murmured. “I have no need to consult the council. I want double the percentage on wool that we agreed upon with the coal.” He could no longer remember the exact figures, all thoughts of trade eclipsed by the rage of Queen Fiona’s ranting.
“D-double?” Nora sputtered. “That’s outrageous!”
“As were your mother’s words.” Not to mention the abuse she had heaped upon her own son. Hamish deserved far better than that.
“I ken you’re upset over what me mum said, but you cannae take it out on our economy.”
“Fine, I shall lower the tariff to a more agreeable range, on the stipulation that I get your brother. The younger one,” he clarified, knowing full well she would be aware he meant Hamish.
If he thought the woman had been sitting straight before, he was proven wrong now. Any more so and she would have to learn how to levitate. “This is Tirglas, we dinnae trade in people.”
He lowered his feet, allowing his chair to return to supporting him on all four legs. However carefully he maintained his balance on the two back legs, it simply wouldn’t do to fall now. “Those are my terms.” Even if Hamish didn’t wish to make their rather new arrangement a permanent one, having the man in Udynea would leave Hamish with a far wider range of opportunities. Not just in bed partners.
Nora snorted. “You’re going to be this bull-headed because of a few harsh words?”
Darshan slammed his fists onto the table. “Harsh words?” he whispered. “She insulted something that is an intrinsic part of me. Just as your traits make you.” The aroma of scorched wood tickled his nose. He lifted a hand to discover the wood grain directly beneath bore the distinct impression of his curled hand.
Nora’s faint intake of breath was enough to shake the cobwebs of shock from his mind.