To Target the Heart

by Aldrea Alien

  “Now?” He tore his gaze from Darshan’s hand to stare mortified at the man. “I dinnae think I have the strength.”

  Throwing back his head, Darshan laughed long and hard. “Nor do I,” he clarified once he was able to do more than chuckle and wheeze. “But I meant in the sense we continue our little clandestine affair.”

  “I’d like that.” Hamish went to sit up only to have the man’s weight firmly pin him back onto the mattress. “Just so we’re both clear on where this is heading, given that this is uncharted waters for me, what happens now?”

  “I shall leave that up to you,” Darshan replied, sitting back. “I have some experience in being considered as just another avenue for pleasure and I would understand if you wish to take it no further than that. But if you would prefer something a little more formal—a relationship, for example—I am open to that possibility.”

  “What?” Hamish grinned. “Actually be lovers?”

  “If that is what you want from this, then I am willing.” There was a peculiar energy to the man’s position, almost a readiness to spring out of the way should need be.

  “That sounds—” Something about Darshan’s expression halted his tongue. Was that a faint flicker of concern across the man’s face? Or was he projecting his own uncertainties? Did he actually think Hamish would reject him? Now?

  He caressed Darshan’s cheek. “I’d like to try.” It would all be gone once Darshan’s ambassadorial duties were done. He wasn’t daft enough to believe otherwise. But for now, he’d settle for a piece of what his siblings once had. No matter how small that time would be.

  Darshan smiled, tension visibly melting from his whole body. “I had rather hoped you would.” He shuffled further onto the bed, snuggling on top of Hamish and pillowing his head atop Hamish’s chest. “Just for a while,” he murmured. “If you do not mind.”

  Hamish released his breath in one long, contented exhalation. Reason warned him that he couldn’t stay any longer, but the man’s comforting weight, his warmth…

  “Aye,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Darshan so that his hands sat comfortably in the small of the spellster’s back. “A wee while will be fine.” If this was what it meant to have a lover, he definitely didn’t want to lose the man any sooner than he had to.

  The comfortably warm body beneath Darshan lurched. Before he could drag his thoughts out of the groggy sludge of sleep, he found himself thrown unceremoniously off the bed. A shield enveloped him as he hit the floor, his healing magic taking over soon after to ease the smarting of his bare arse hitting the old wooden planks.

  Darshan scrambled to his knees, groping for his glasses even as he clicked his fingers to have a flame flicker to life in his hand—a childish act, but one he leant on in times like these. He peered at the scene before him.

  Hamish bumbled about the room, gathering up his things in preparation for a hasty retreat.

  He watched his lover race to don the bare minimum of his clothing. He had witnessed a few hurried exits from his chambers in the past, but never with this much fearful urgency.

  “ ‘Mish?” The word came slowly, his tongue still stiff with sleep. Even to his ears, his voice was heavy with concern. “What is it?” Had their affair been discovered so quickly? He glanced at the door as his questing fingers found his glasses. The iron-bound, wooden panels were still intact and closed, whereas his ears picked up only the hurried scuffle of a man dressing.

  “How could you let me sleep that long?” Hamish replied, hopping on one leg as he hauled on his boots.

  “Surely, we cannot have slept for more than a few minutes.” He recalled closing his eyes only moments ago.

  “The moon’s well up.” Hamish waved a hand at the window. Sure enough, the sill was illuminated in pale light. “Midnight, I’d wager. I should’ve met up with me brother hours ago.”

  Darshan continued to stare at the window whilst putting on his glasses. Now that he could see, a glance over his shoulder confirmed that the candles had burnt down and the fire was naught but a dim glow of coals. “Then you had best be careful leaving here.” He gathered up the man’s tunic, the final piece of his lover’s attire, and thrust it into Hamish’s hands. “Is there anything I can do?” There were a number of distractions he could hurl from the window that would likely send every guard clamouring for the battlements. “I am very good at sky sparks.” It wasn’t as dangerous or loud as some of the other options, but the flashes of light above the castle would be cause for alarm.

  Hamish shook his head. “Nae magic. As far as the guards are concerned, you’ve been asleep this whole time.”

  “Understood.” He bowed his head. “I am sorry. It was not my intention to have you linger for so long.”

  A soft smile fattened Hamish’s cheeks and creased the corners of those sapphiric eyes. “Me too,” he breathed. He swung to the door, his hand on the key.

  A knock came from the other side of the door before Hamish could unlock it. Three precise bangs on the wood; brisk and verging slightly on the presumptuous side. Someone who had come for a purpose and wasn’t afraid to show their authority.

  Hamish froze. Terror drained all the life from his face. Those wide eyes surveyed the room, taking in what Darshan already knew. There was nowhere for him to hide.

  “Ambassador,” a deep voice commanded from the other side of the door. “Let us in.”

  Hamish’s fear-struck gaze settled on him, imploring.

  Darshan wordlessly padded to the window. The curtains weren’t long enough to reach the floor and the guards were bound to look behind them. Same went for under the bed.

  He flung open the windowpanes. Cold air rushed to greet him. He could practically feel the hairs on his bare chest straining to stand straight.

  Sticking his head out the window had him bearing the full force of the night wind ripping up from the sea. The salt air stung his nose and watered his eyes, but he still sought for a place Hamish could hide. Hanging onto the window ledge was unacceptable and dismissed with barely a thought. There were no cracks to cling to, either. No chinks in the mortar or bricks out of line far enough for a decent handhold.

  Any other time, he would be amazed how Tirglasian masons managed such uniformity without magic. Right now, he was rather disgusted by it.

  The guards still hammered on the door.

  He pulled his head back in and eyed his lover. “How much do you weigh? Three hundred pounds? Four?”

  “Probably?” Hamish snapped, the word hissing through his teeth. “There are a few boars me size, but I dinnae exactly weigh meself on the regular. Why?”

  Nodding to himself, Darshan stepped back from the window. A large boar. Whilst he wasn’t sure how big those got, he had lifted a solid carthorse off the ground in the past. Not very high, though. It would take a fair bit of concentration, but he could manage that weight for a time. “Do you trust me?”

  Suspicion narrowed his lover’s eyes and knotted his brows. “Do I have a choice?”

  The hammering at the door grew heavier. Were the guards actually trying to knock it down? “You’ve until the count of ten to open up, Ambassador.”

  Hamish’s gaze swung to the door. The doubt moulding his face crumbled into naked fear. If Darshan didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn the men on the other side were here to kill them.

  Darshan wove his fingers between his lover’s, squeezing. “If you do not wish to get caught in my company…”

  “One!” boomed the voice outside the room.

  “I trust you,” Hamish whispered.

  “Then do not move and try to keep your breathing shallow.” Like capturing a fly in the hands, he cupped a shield around Hamish. It was a small one, barely big enough to hold his lover, and dense through necessity.

  “Two!”

  Hamish’s mouth moved, his voice silenced by the shield. Definitely a question.

  Darshan motioned him to silence. Lifting Hamish, shield and all, was far harder than he had originally
counted on. It rose sluggishly, but wholly under his command. Hopefully, he wouldn’t lose control over it before the guards left.

  “Three!” the man continued to count.

  Sideways movement was far easier. He pushed Hamish, shield and all, out the window. It stuttered as Hamish rocked, flattening himself against the wallward edge of the invisible shield. Darshan persisted, gliding everything to one side of the window. Hiding Hamish above the frame would’ve been better should the guards think to look beyond the room’s confines, but he didn’t think he could manage any higher.

  “Four!”

  Darshan quietly shut the window once Hamish was tucked out of sight. “Just hold on,” he shouted back. “I am coming!” After a few frantic heartbeats, he also closed the curtains. No need to make them suspicious.

  He hurried across to the door, pausing only to extinguish a few of the candles and snatch up a cushion. He refused to seek a means to cover himself any further. If he could make the guards uncomfortable in his naked presence, then perhaps they would leave all the sooner. He wasn’t certain how long he could hold Hamish in the air, even pressed against the castle wall. Already, the pressure of it pounded in his brain. Akin to a nagging headache at his temple that threatened to burrow deeper should he choose to ignore it.

  Darshan unlocked the door and jumped back as three guards stampeded through the doorway. They spread out around the room, filling the space and then some like mongooses attempting to track a hooded serpent.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, keeping his voice light. He clung to the door with one hand, clutching the cushion in the other.

  “His highness,” one of the men rumbled, his dark gaze keenly surveying his surroundings rather than focusing on whom he addressed. Like most Tirglasians Darshan had seen, the guard was a big man; dark of hair and pale of skin. “Prince Hamish is missing from his quarters.”

  “And you naturally assumed he would be here?” They’d likely been ordered by Queen Fiona to search the guest quarters upon Hamish’s marked absence, but no harm in crediting the guards with minds of their own. “As flattering as that is, I am alone.” He waved his hand, indicating the room. “As you can see, there is only us. No prince beyond myself.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that.” In one smooth motion, the guard ordered the other two, who immediately began checking the obvious places Darshan had already ruled out as effective hiding spots.

  The pressure in his temple throbbed that little bit harder. Was Hamish moving? He didn’t think his lover could hear the guards through the shield’s density. “As you can see, I was quite alone before you arrived.” A lancing pain hit the left side of his brain. Darshan grimaced and cocked his head slightly. It alleviated the pressure, but not by much. Stay still. He needed the guards to leave now. “I am afraid I cannot be of any more help,” he muttered between clenched teeth.

  The head guard looked him over, seeming to finally notice Darshan’s lack of clothing. “I find it suspicious that you’re alone, naked and with a stiff one.”

  Feeling a little self-conscious, Darshan adjusted the cushion. How could he have missed himself growing hard? How completely inappropriate. Still, apart from the gnawing pain in his head, he couldn’t deny that this was quite exhilarating. Being caught with men back in Udynea hadn’t the same thrill behind it and never had he needed to hide a lover before.

  He straightened, tipping his chin up and glared down his nose at the guard. It was a look he had perfected from his years in the Crystal Court and served him well back home. “Do you see me querying your night-time activities?”

  The man sneered.

  Behind the guard, Darshan caught one of the others flinging open the curtains. His heart skipped. The pressure in his head deepened like a chisel tapping deeper into marble. All it would take was for the man to open the window and look to his left.

  Mercifully, the guard turned back around. “There’s nae another soul here, sir.”

  “As I told you,” Darshan snapped. “If you could now leave me to my slumber?”

  The head guard nodded, his thin lips pressing together until they were but a line peeking out from beneath his beard. “That you did, your imperial highness.” He bowed. “Our apologies for disturbing your sleep.”

  Darshan bit his cheek with the effort to remain silent. He hadn’t imagined the faint pause in the guard’s speech that suggested the man didn’t believe Darshan had slept a wink. And the bastard had actually been hoping to catch Hamish here.

  If he didn’t have the vicious pounding in his head as a constant reminder that a life hung on his abilities, one of these men would certainly not be casually strolling off out the door.

  Shadowing the guards’ movements, he slammed the door on their backs the instant he was able to and deftly locked the smug bastards out.

  He held his breath, counting to ten before hastening to open the window. Poking his head outside confirmed Hamish still stood flat against the brickwork.

  His lover flinched as Darshan moved the shield. He could’ve lifted only the man, but directly hefting people with magic was a little different to the average rock or piece of decor. Inanimate objects tended not to protest if squeezed that little bit too hard, nor did they wriggle about in transit. This high, one ill-timed twitch could mean death.

  The shield’s faint purple sheen flickered. Darshan’s heart stuttered. No.

  Almost before he could finish the thought, the shield reformed to encapsulate Hamish once again. Darshan draped himself over the windowsill, half in an attempt to reach his lover and partly due to his wobbling legs.

  The shield might’ve reappeared in the same spot, but Hamish had dropped at least a few feet in that time and now his legs, from the knees down, dangled in the air. Fortunately, the shield had returned not as dense or the man would’ve lost the lower half of those very limbs.

  Squirming along the windowsill to get as close as he could manage, Darshan held out his hand. The shield buzzed along his forearm. He could no longer risk moving or altering the barrier lest it vanished again. They mightn’t be so fortunate a second time.

  “Take it!” Darshan ordered, his voice all but lost to the wind. There was a risk in Hamish’s shifting weight causing the shield to fail, but that couldn’t be helped.

  His lover lurched for Darshan’s hand, those rough fingers closing around his forearm. Unadulterated terror filled Hamish’s eyes. He flailed with the other hand, searching for something to grasp.

  Darshan strained to reach him. Their fingertips touched. Just… a little… more… No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get any nearer.

  There was nothing for it. He would have to pull Hamish closer and hope the shield held.

  Holding his breath, Darshan gave the most minuscule of tugs. Maybe if he did it slowly enough…

  The shield sputtered and died.

  All of his lover’s weight hit Darshan’s arm at once. Lancing, searing, pain tore a scream from his throat. Hamish dangled below the window. Only his grip on Darshan’s forearm and the desperate way he clung to the edge of the windowsill kept him from falling.

  Fire and daggers burrowed into Darshan’s shoulder. Magic flooded his body, seeking to heal the damage. He tried to haul the man up to no avail. His feet slid across the floor, finding no purchase in the old wood, then abandoned it altogether. If he didn’t haul Hamish to safety or let the man go, they would both wind up falling to their deaths.

  Darshan struggled to focus, to redirect his magic’s involuntary persevering stance on healing him. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping onto his glasses. Blinking furiously, he tightened his hold on Hamish’s forearm. Letting his lover die because he couldn’t see was not an option.

  A surge of strength poured into his straining muscles. His questing feet found purchase on the wall, allowing him to brace himself. He had only a small timeframe before the magic would tear his body apart.

  He latched onto Hamish’s other wrist and pulled with every ounce of strength
his magic could give.

  Hamish inched up the wall, able to assist once his torso was balanced on the windowsill. He clambered the last few inches back inside under his own power, tumbling into the room to lie still on the floor. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest gave any indication that he lived. Had he passed out?

  Darshan dared to take a single wobbly step from the wall before his legs opted to dump him where he stood. He slid to the floor, upright only thanks to the wall at his back. He released his grip on his magic, letting the passive healing once more flow through his body. “ ‘Mish? Are you all right?” His lover didn’t appear injured, but he was prepared to spare some of the precious little energy he had left if that was the case.

  His lover stirred, waving him off with the flap of an arm. “I’m fine. That’s quite the trick you have there.” There was a touch of acidity to Hamish’s otherwise light tone. “Did it occur to you to—I dinnae ken—warn me before you shove me out a bloody window?” he growled, finally sitting up.

  “I would have if there had been more time.” His gaze slid from the man’s back to the door. After everything, he half-expected the guards to burst into the room. “That was a little more intense than I was expecting.”

  “Aye and close, too.” Groaning, Hamish got to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes. “I better get back before they’ve searched everywhere else.”

  “What?” Darshan scrambled to get his legs back under him. He grabbed his lover’s arm as Hamish neared the door. The act did little to stop him. “They do not believe you to be here. Surely, you do not have to leave just yet.”

  “I should though.” His calloused hand cradled Darshan’s jaw, the pad of his thumb caressing Darshan’s cheek in one wide sweep. “I’ll make it up to you next time.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Smiling, Hamish leant forward.

  Their lips barely brushed together before Darshan pulled back, a hand over his mouth. “You do not wish to kiss me right now, my breath is probably atrocious.” In comparison, and despite the several hours they had slept, his lover’s breath still smelt quite sweet.