by Aldrea Alien
“There is little magic I can do that would be useful in any of the trials and not also immediately give away my status as a spellster. Which I gather your mother would see as just as heinous a crime even if I were not a man.”
He was right there. “Nae to mention me mum will claim that you snuck into the contest under the guise of a woman.” And probably a fake name, now he thought about it. His mother would likely try to nullify Darshan’s victory on that reasoning alone.
“I wear only what the other competitors do.” Darshan tugged at the front of his drab-coloured shirt, the overcoat having already been discarded alongside the scarf sometime during their conversation. “Are they not disguised as well?”
“They do it to conceal their clan, nae their gender.” How much damage would removing Darshan do? Could it be done quietly? Would the damage be enough for the other competitors to wonder if the prize was worth winning? Would the other clans seek revenge over the deception?
Darshan brushed the distinction aside with a sweep of his hand. “I have gone beyond caring over such trifling details. Your brother said there is nothing apart from your mother’s stubbornness that can stop me from competing, so compete I shall.”
“There is one thing. I could tell you nae to do it. To forfeit.” It would mean letting the contest play out as he had been dreading only this morning, but it would also keep Darshan and the Udynea Empire out of whatever mess happened at the end. “Would you listen to me if I did?” Although, it could wind up drawing more attention. Maybe the only way to avoid chaos would be for Darshan to carry on, regardless of how Hamish felt.
Confusion twisted his lover’s brows. “If the competition was fair, perhaps. But I am taking you from this place one way or the other. I will not leave you here to die. I simply refuse to let that come to pass.” Darshan strode towards him, determination squaring his jaw. “I have trod the murky depths alone for so long that you blinded me when we first met, but I have basked in your light long enough to know that at your side is where I wish to be.”
Hamish swallowed, attempting to clear his throat. Should his chest feel this tight at being faced with such an admission?
“But know this: losing you, returning home without my light in the dark, is not something I am prepared to go through. I cannot bear the thought of it. Whether you feel the same way or not, I just cannot leave without at least trying to—”
“I do.” The words came out in a rush, almost breathless with fear. They hung in the air between them.
His lover had fallen silent, seemingly content to just stare at him with that hopeful little gleam in his eyes that served only to twist Hamish’s stomach into a tighter knot.
Hamish hung his head. “I ken me brother spoke to you.” Even without Darshan confessing to that, it was obvious. “The thing is, he certainly would’ve used how I feel about you as the carrot to get you where you’re standing.”
Darshan smiled. He held one elbow in his hand and stroked his chin. “And was he wrong? About your feelings?” There was a soft skew to his mouth, a certainty that he already knew the answer was in his favour.
“Whatever he said…” Hamish breathed deep. He was all but offering his heart on a platter to Darshan and still couldn’t be entirely certain the man wasn’t toying with him on some level. “It’s true.” He mimicked the gesture of pressing his hand to the man’s chest. “You are my light,” he attempted in Udynean, the words thick on his tongue.
Darshan winced, just the faint deepening of the wrinkles around his eyes. “Your accent is still atrocious.” But he grinned. Beaming like the breaking of a new spring day after a month of winter storms. “Of course you love me. Everybody does.” He laid his hand atop Hamish’s keeping it firmly pressed to his chest. “I simply emit loveliness.”
“Uh-huh.” Modesty, too. “You think I sound bad? This coming from the man who still cannae use contractions in Tirglasian.”
“They sound weird. But we shall need to work on your language skills some more, especially since I am taking you home.” Such conviction ran through the words that Hamish couldn’t help but grow giddy on that river of hope.
“Oh, aye?” He wrapped his free arm around the man’s waist and pulled Darshan flush against him. “Am I going to need more of your native tongue?”
Laughing, Darshan tipped his head back. “Not letting that one go, are we?”
“Never, me heart,” he murmured, nuzzling along his lover’s neck.
A faint, contented hum flexed the muscles and tendons beneath the flushed skin Hamish was busily kissing. “That one is new. I like it.” He pushed them apart a ways, eyeing Hamish. “Did you truly not realise it was me?”
“I thought the walk was a little familiar, but other than that?” He shook his head. Only the sudden change of Darshan’s higher voice to the man’s natural tone had alerted him to the truth. “It was you about to enter the tunnel entrance that finally tugged at me curiosity.”
“I shall attempt to be a little more discreet in making use of the tunnel. And is my walk distinctive enough that I shall need to remedy it?”
Hamish shook his head. Few would’ve been in the man’s presence long enough to notice, much less make the connection. And of those few, none would want to see Darshan exposed. “Would it make a difference either way?” Trying to affect another stance could draw just as much attention.
“Not really, if we are being honest.” He cocked his head. “You still do not sound entirely convinced having me competing is a good idea. Surely, you would prefer I won over them.”
Aye. A thousand—a million—times. “There just has to be at least a dozen reasons why this willnae work.”
“I just need to take each trial as they come and make it through.” He grimaced, seemingly from the core of his being. “That sounds terribly optimistic, I know. I blame you there.”
“Me?”
“You make the thought of the future that much brighter.” He caressed Hamish’s cheek, his fingers threading into Hamish’s beard as he lowered his hand to run tingling touches along the underside of Hamish’s jaw. “My light in the dark,” he whispered. “I warned you I was a selfish man and I certainly shall not let you slip away so easily. I want you to come home with me. I want you to be mine. Is that such a terrible thing to desire of someone you love?”
Hamish wrapped his arms around Darshan’s shoulders, resting his cheek against his lover’s forehead. It all sounded terribly reasonable. “Use your magic,” he whispered.
“Mea lux,” Darshan gasped mockingly, slipping free of Hamish’s embrace. “Are you actually suggesting I cheat?” He grinned prettily, batting his lashes like when Hamish’s niece tried to charm her way out of chores. “Or was that an insinuation that I cannot win honestly?”
“You dinnae have the luxury of losing.” What guarantee did they have that Darshan wouldn’t fail the first trial without magical aid? None. Then what? Lead everyone to believe that allowing a man to compete was just some joke?
“Not the luxury now, is it?” The man’s grin fell as his lips pressed together in thought. He gathered up his clothes, swiftly discarding a few of the articles. “If they catch me cheating, they will ban me from competing faster than if they discovered I am a man. I did not lie when I said there is little magic I can utilise to assist me in this endeavour. I might not make it through the duel tomorrow.”
Something squeezed his chest. “Dar…”
“Do not mistake me for not dwelling on it,” Darshan continued, his lover’s words muffled by the undershirt currently being over his head. “There may be a few chances in my upcoming duel—” His head popped through the neck hole. “But I shall need some time to think on how to implement it and not be caught.” He shrugged, tugging the hem of his undershirt into place. “It may be entirely unnecessary.”
It had been some years since the last union contest, but Hamish recalled the brutality of the first trial well enough. Whilst it was rare for people to die, broken bones were a common outcome.
Darshan glanced up from exchanging the loose, drab trousers of a competitor’s attire for a tighter pair from one of his off-white garbs. “I did, originally, come down here to change so I may watch the competition, so to speak, incognito but…”
“They’ll be competing for some time,” Hamish said, finishing the man’s thoughts. One-on-one duels would continue all day and then tomorrow. Whilst watching the trials wasn’t required of him, people still expected him to have an interest in the calibre of those competing. Mingling without blurting out his true feelings on the contest would likely be the hardest part of the next few days.
“No one knows we are here.” Darshan stood, his trousers secured and his hand hovering over the sherwani he had laid out on the chest. “We could linger for a time, if you wish? No expectations, just conversing with a loved one.”
“I’d like that.” He had rather missed the velvety tone of Darshan’s voice. Hamish settled on the pile of blankets that would’ve served as the man’s bed if his lover had actually slept down here. They’d certainly given their all to the deception that Darshan was just another faceless competitor. “How about you start with what me brother’s been teaching you?”
Hamish lay still, content to stare up at the canvas tent whilst Darshan regaled him with the sword fighting techniques Gordon had drilled into him over the past week. He remembered his brother’s training methods from their youth quite well. They’d been brutal, hands-on and often went for hours at a time. His muscles still ached with the memory of Gordon driving him around the training grounds with each attack and counter.
Apparently, his brother hadn’t changed his tactics there.
Whilst his lover had chosen to lie next to him, Darshan seemed to prefer the simple comfort that came from using Hamish’s stomach as a pillow. The man had also captured Hamish’s arm sometime during their conversing and kept it in his possession by running his fingertips up and down Hamish’s wrist. The sensation hovered on the edge of tickling. Coupled with his lover’s voice as Darshan ran through the upcoming days, it was close to lulling him to sleep.
“In all honesty,” Darshan concluded. “I imagine the last trial will be the hardest, given that I shall be shooting practically blind.”
Hamish grunted. The final trial wasn’t a customarily set task like the other two, for the very reason that it required the competitors draw even or best the person whose hand they were competing for in a skill they excelled at. “If I’d been warned beforehand…” He had chosen archery purely because few would be able to draw even with him. He had been hoping that number would be zero.
“Then what? You would have chosen something different? What could you have possibly picked that would have been in my skill set that the others would not excel at? Magic?”
“I…” That was a good point. He could’ve chosen a hunt like Gordon but, unlike the faith his brother had in Muireall’s skills, there was no guarantee that another competitor wouldn’t beat Darshan. “I dinnae ken.” He could’ve taken his sister’s route and demanded the final trial be a battle of languages. Like Darshan, Nora’s seafaring husband had spoken a wide range. But that would’ve also run the risk of exposing Darshan before a clear winner was decided.
“We shall think of something.”
“It’ll have to be quick. Five days will go faster than you think.” There were two days for the first trial, followed by one of rest to give those who had made it through a chance to recoup before tackling the forest run and the heart-gifting ceremony. Then the final trial. “At least I ken who I’ll be giving me heart to.”
Darshan gave a querying hum.
“Did nae one tell you?” He fished out a pendant from within his undershirt. The simple chain gleamed in the dull light. Hanging off the links was a heart-shaped ruby about as broad as the length of his thumb. Although his mother had commissioned the gem after he had survived his first year in this world, Hamish recalled only seeing the hearts of his siblings during their union contests.
She’d given him this one only yesterday. “See this?”
Darshan rocked his head to one side to appraise the jewel. His brows lowered in confusion, but he remained silent.
“After the last competitor finds their way through the forest, all those who make it through unscathed are lined up and I am meant to gift this to one of them.” He ran his thumb over the ruby. The cut wasn’t usually the type of style a man would wear. At least it wasn’t ringed with diamonds like the one Gordon had gifted to his wife. Would Darshan object to wearing such a trinket?
“You bestow a favour part way through the trials? To what end?”
Shrugging, Hamish tucked the gem back beneath his clothes and laced his fingers behind his head. “Tradition. My choice is supposed to encourage the Goddess to bestow her blessing upon them.”
“Then I best make it through the trials, had I not? Having a Goddess’ will on my side surely could not hurt.”
“Aye,” he replied thickly.
“But you know,” Darshan murmured, rolling onto his side to prop himself onto his elbow. “If you are going to insist on being sprawled on my bed like an offering for the Divine Agan…” He shuffled further upright, winding up on his hands and knees.
Laughter inadvertently snorted out Hamish’s nose. “Your bed? As if you’ve ever used it.” Seeing how well Darshan handled roughing it whilst travelling across the land, he couldn’t imagine the man willingly choosing this cold pile of blankets over a bed in a warm room.
“We could.” Grinning, his lover straddled his waist. “Right now.”
Hamish lay there, well aware of how each breath shifted his lover’s weight. Still, he saw no need to push Darshan off him, although keeping his hands where they comfortably sat buried beneath his hair seemed equally as prudent. “Do you even ken what you want from this beyond having me in Minamist?” Did he really want Hamish as a husband? Or did he mean for them to remain no closer than lovers?
“In the moment?” One dark brow lifted suggestively along with a corner of Darshan’s mouth. “Or in general?”
“Generally.”
The cockiness in his expression melted away. “Not entirely,” he whispered. “But I do know what I do not want to transpire and that is to lose you, to leave you here living a life others have dictated. That has to count for something, right?”
It did. Probably more than his lover realised. “And what, exactly, do you want from me?”
“So many things I know I cannot have.” Darshan’s hand glided up Hamish’s chest, one finger gracing his neck before sliding downwards as his weight shifted off Hamish. “I want to be able to court you, properly. To gift you the ability to choose me as I have you. To hold you whenever and wherever I wished.” His lover’s hand slid along Hamish’s stomach and onwards to his groin to slowly stroke him through his trousers to the accompaniment of Hamish’s muffled whimper. “I want to empty myself into you every night,” his lover breathed into Hamish’s ear. “To hear you moan without fear of being caught.”
Hamish rocked his hips, deepening the man’s gentle movements. A soft, desperate little groan slipped out his lips.
“Yes,” Darshan purred. “Just like that. But…” He withdrew his hand, a strange expression ghosting over his face. “I also want to just fall asleep in your arms and know you will be there when I wake.”
Hamish tilted his head. “Me too.” He’d had a measure of that during their trip to and from the cloister. He had missed such comfort in the days after the bear attack.
Darshan smiled back, care and desire softly skewing his lips. He caressed Hamish’s cheek with the back of a finger, smoothing his beard. “And what I want above all?” He sat back. “Simply for you to be happy, to have the chance to be you.”
He stared up at his lover, his throat and chest tight. Moisture pricked at the corners of his eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nae,” he managed, the word thick on his tongue.
“Are you certain? Forgive m
e, but you sound like you are about to cry.”
I just might, yet. People always wanted things from him, expected him to act a certain way or be a certain type of person. To give his all without asking for anything in return. No one had ever let him just be him. “I love you,” he whispered.
Darshan smiled, warm affection creasing the corners of his eyes. Even with only half the day being garbed as himself, his lover had rimmed his eyes with dark powder. “I believe we established that.”
“Doesnae mean I’ll stop saying it.”
“I certainly hope not.” Darshan pressed close. “And I do love you,” he murmured, the breath of his words skittering across Hamish’s ear. “I would never have found someone as sweet as you back home.”
“Sweet?” Hamish gently pushed Darshan back until the man’s face came into view. Lit only by the low light leaking through canvas and tree canopy, much of the man’s expression was in shadow. Too much to know if he was merely joking. “I’ve nae been called that since I was a wee lad.”
Darshan gave a low, brief chuckle. “Then a crime has been committed on your good character, mea lux. Everyone back home is always so obsessed with strength and power.” He caressed Hamish’s cheek, the rings adorning his fingers glittering with each tender movement. “Well, I have tasted both and rather find them wanting.”
Hamish wet his lips, not quite sure how to respond to that. “What if you lose?”
Darshan scoffed.
“It is possible, even if you cheat.” Which Hamish sincerely hoped the man tried only in small doses, especially if it meant using his magic. Anything that ran the risk of revealing Darshan’s true identity wasn’t worth it. “What will you do then?”
His lover remained silent for quite some time.
Doubt gnawed at Hamish’s stomach. Maybe he was asking too much. It was one thing to win, to stand defiant just long enough for the trials to be considered as valid and his hand claimed. But if that didn’t come to pass…
“If I lose?” Darshan grinned. “I shall simply spirit you away.” He bent to kiss Hamish, his lips sweeping over Hamish’s and halting as Hamish gave his lover little in the way of response. Darshan cocked his head, one dark brow lifting in query. “No? Afraid someone might catch us?”