by Aldrea Alien
Gordon joined him, his gaze swinging between the surrounding forest to the boys. “I ken this isnae something you want to hear, but I dinnae think he’s coming.”
Even as the words passed his brother’s lips, Hamish couldn’t help the twinge in his gut that maybe Gordon was right. Or maybe it was all the liquid sloshing about in his stomach. Waking had come with a dreadful headache, alleviated only by a jug of water and one of the cook’s bitter concoctions that also left him with little desire for grub.
He took a deep breath. “Give it until midmorning. Dar’s probably just held up.” The spellster would have to avoid detection to the tunnel entrance, traverse it and then find his way through the forest without arousing anyone’s suspicion. If only he could make himself invisible. Sadly, Darshan had already informed him such magic wasn’t possible.
“You really are putting a lot of faith in him.”
Tell me something I dinnae ken. Darshan could decide to back out of the contest with no one the wiser at any given moment simply by not participating. But… “He loves me.” Surely if Darshan had any misgivings about competing, it would’ve been in the first trial, not now. “Said I was his eternal flame. I think it means he believes me to be chosen by the Goddess for him.” He remembered that part of last night quite clearly. As if he could ever forget the golden warmth that had bathed his very soul at the confession.
His brother’s brows rose. “He’s that serious about it?”
Hamish nodded. At least, he hoped Darshan was.
Gordon rubbed at his jaw. “I suppose we can wait until the fog burns off.”
They stood there, minding that the boys didn’t get quarrelsome with each other whilst also continuing to keep the usual watchful eye for anything that might mean harm, be it an aggressive stag or a startled bear. Although, the amount of noise his nephews made would likely to scare off all but the most cantankerous of beasts.
The boys, seemingly bored with practising their archery on the same stationary target, had each taken up a fallen stick and seemed content to chase each other around the trees.
Where Mac failed to match his brother’s with a bow, he was well capable of holding his own with a sword, even a makeshift one. The boy’s crowing of landing the first strike echoed through the forest.
Gordon snickered as one exuberant hit shattered Mac’s stick.
Undeterred, Mac tossed aside the remains of his weapon and launched himself at Bruce to wrestle his poor eldest brother to the ground. Ethan dared to valiantly attempt coming to Bruce’s rescue and was dragged into the heap.
“Do you remember when Dad used to bring us out here?” Gordon asked.
“Aye.” That had been back when they were all young and idealistic, when the idea of disobeying their mother’s will was akin to heresy. When all four of them had lived under one roof. He lifted his gaze to the yew branches. “Caitlyn used to scurry up this tree like a cat.”
His brother chuckled. “And Dad would always send Nora up to fetch her because she was the lightest.” His wide grin almost split his beard in two. “But Nora always got stuck.”
Hamish’s chest bubbled with the laughter of a memory that’d grown soft around the edges with time. How he missed the innocence, stolen from him once his mother knew he’d never willingly find a wife.
His gaze slid back to the children. Ethan was still battling to free his elder brother’s arm from Mac’s grasp. “Do you ever wonder what’ll happen to Ethan once Mum finds out?” How many years did the boy have before she set her poisonous sights on him?
Sighing, Gordon folded his arms. “Aye and I’ve been hoping it willnae matter when the time comes. But all this business with you and Darshan…?” He shook his head. “I dinnae ken what we can do. There’s naewhere we can take him that she wouldnae hunt him down. Talking to her is useless. She’s convinced her way is the only one.”
“I’ve been thinking—”
“Thought I smelt burning.”
He dealt his brother a hearty punch to the shoulder. He should’ve expected such a response. “About the sinking of The Princess’ Fortune. What if it wasnae an accident? What if Mum—?”
“Our brother-in-law’s ship sank in a storm. You cannae just have one form out of nothing. The Goddess was responsible there, nae our mum.”
“Has it never struck you as odd that Calder, a man who was born to ride the waves, wasnae capable of steering his ship to a safe harbour?” There were a lot of things that could bring down even the most seaworthy vessel, but those who had been in the storm that had taken his sister’s husband claimed the trade ship shouldn’t have gone under as swiftly as it did.
Gordon frowned.
“Plenty of people survived. They talk, you ken.”
“Sailors always talk,” his brother grumbled. “They’ve enough time at sea to make up all sorts of stories.”
“Similar ones about the same ship? The Princess’ Fortune left Mullhind upright and hearty, yet people used to speak of it listing on the return voyage and I always wondered…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Mum only cared she’d lost a grandchild. She wept over nae one else.” Not Calder. Not even Gordon’s wife.
His brother grunted, conceding the point. “Well, she never got on with Calder.”
“I do remember the rows Mum had with him.” The roar of a queen used to her words being law clashing against the bellow of a captain who hadd shouted over the sea herself. “Calder had a massive influence over Nora. He was the reason she saw more of our kingdom than just the royal clan lands.”
“You’re suggesting she gave the order to have her son-in-law killed? Wilfully? Dad would’ve stopped her if it were true.”
“How? He hasnae the authority to overturn her orders.” If he had been a king, then yes, but their mother was where the royal clan line came from. That was why she was the queen and not princess consort. “Mum already controls everything we do, where we go… who we marry. She cannae stand us choosing a path she hasnae paved.” How much of a leap was it for her to decide how and when those who defied her died? She had already ordered the death of the men he had rutted with, why not Calder? “She was the same with your wife.”
“Mum just didnae like how Muireall preferred to travel with just a couple of guards whenever she visited her old clan. And maybe she should’ve heeded Mum’s wish to send a small contingent of guards with her. Maybe then she’d still be alive.”
Perhaps. He doubted the presence of more guards would’ve stopped Muireall from attempting to slay the man-killer bear terrorising the village she had stopped at on her way through. “Have you forgotten that Mum made a pregnant woman compete in your union contest? That should nae have happened.” Muireall confessed she couldn’t have been more than four months along, but the thought of watching her duel still made him queasy. “Mum’s even organising Sorcha’s marriage. That’s your daughter’s life. The lass is barely thirteen. If anyone is to have a say in what happens to her, it should nae be Mum.”
“You think I dinnae ken that?” Gordon growled. ”What am I supposed to do there? Tell Mum she cannae have anything to do with her granddaughter and future queen?”
Hamish shook his head. “I thought you and Muireall were in agreement on an acceptable age for marriage? Didnae you want to wait until your girls were in their twenties?”
“Maybe I was wrong. Me eldest was old enough by tradition. She could’ve been home, preparing for a wedding instead of dying in some forest far from home. She should nae have been there and that is on me. I should’ve made her stay.”
“Or have me in her place.” Would it have mattered? Perhaps in their mother being less paranoid that something would happen to her grandchildren if they weren’t kept under constant supervision. And maybe it would’ve shown the truth about her feelings towards those who dared to stretch her children’s minds beyond the royal clan lands.
Gasping, his brother pushed off from the tree trunk to grasp Hamish’s shoulders. “I would never want—”
“Mum would�
�ve.” She had been almost disappointed when he had returned with the bear that’d taken the life of her daughter-in-law and granddaughter. “She would’ve preferred I had died to that bear than be involved with any man.”
“That’s nae true.”
“But it is.” He shook free of his brother’s hold. “Mum forsakes those she cannae control. She would rather consider Caitlyn as having never existed because our sister has magic. She sees me as defective because I like men.” And he had believed there was something wrong with him for so long until Darshan showed him the truth.
“That—”
“Caitlyn’s condition—” Hamish all but spat the word. “—cannae be ignored or altered. Mine can. At least, as far as Mum’s concerned.” He had lost count of how many times she had attempted to negotiate with him, as if the right conditions would make him amenable to lying with a woman. “I’m tired of living by her rules. We shouldnae have to. She’s our Mum, nae the bloody Goddess.”
“But she is the queen. What sort of precedent would it set if we disobeyed her every order in favour of our whims?”
The wrong sort. At least, that was what his mother always proclaimed. Once, he would’ve readily agreed with such an answer. “What I have isnae a whim,” he muttered. “I just want to be with him, to be me without having to look over me shoulder every other breath.” Was that really such a bad thing to crave?
His brother grasped his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “This isnae the same and you ken it. She should nae have announced the contest, nae when she was aware how miserable it would make you.”
“Then it is fortunate I am here, is it not?” a familiar voice piped up.
Hamish jerked his head around to find his lover standing nearby. Heat rushed to his face like a bonfire. How much had the man heard?
Darshan held a practice bow awkwardly before him as if he had wandered into his parent’s bedchamber. He wore the drab attire he had donned on their way to the cloister, likely in an effort to blend in with the rest of the castle inhabitants. The glasses kind of ruined the effect. “Should I come back later?”
“There is nae later.” Over the man’s shoulder, Hamish spied the boys huddled around the tree they had been aiming at earlier. At least they would’ve been less likely to have heard them.
“Where have you been?” Gordon asked. “I thought ‘Mish told you the way.”
“He had. I was merely taking the opportunity to arrange a few personal matters whilst I had the time.”
Never one to be brushed off so easily, Gordon narrowed his eyes at the man. “What matters?”
Darshan held up his hand, the digits absent of their customary jewellery. “Nothing sinister. You can take the suspicious look off your face. It is just your mother is unlikely to be amenable to me winning.”
“That’s an understatement and a half,” Hamish muttered. If only they could be certain of her reaction, then they would be able to plan better. Assuming the worst was the best chance they had.
His lover gave him a grim smile. “Quite. And rather than rely on her following with convention regardless of her feelings towards me, I figured it would be prudent to seek out back up measures upon which to fall.”
“You went back to the trader’s guild,” Hamish said. If his mother reacted as badly as he believed, then having immediate access to funds would see them on their way to Minamist a lot faster. Although, the lack of a ship sailing anywhere near their destination for another week did mean leaving Mullhind over land.
Darshan bowed his head. “I did.” There was a lingering bitterness to the words, warning Hamish exactly how the man had faired before Darshan could speak further. “Sadly, the woman I spoke to last time was absent and her successor is quite unwilling to loan me any further funds without my previous debt having been paid off.”
“That is a wee bit unfortunate,” Gordon said, his brother’s falsely light-hearted tone doing little to lift Hamish’s spirits. “But we’ve a slightly more pressing matter to get you through before then.” He indicated the practice bow still held before Darshan as if it would somehow loose an arrow on its own. “Have you ever used a bow?”
Darshan regarded the weapon and grimaced. “Not since the hunting expeditions my father would take us on in my childhood. It is considered a commoner’s weapon of choice back home. But I have seen both of you use them often enough during our travels. I am certain it will come back to me with practice.”
Pursing his lips, Gordon’s gaze slid to Hamish. His brother arched a brow at him.
Hamish could only shrug in response. If Darshan couldn’t wield a bow, then he would be forced to forfeit the final trial.
“A day willnae give you much time to practice in.”
Seemingly unfazed, Darshan slid an arrow from Hamish’s quiver. “The method of use is a simple principle. Nock the arrow.” He did the act smoothly enough. Not a clean movement, but better than most novices. “Pull back the string.” Darshan’s arm shook as he drew the bow to its full strength. There was a faint grunt and all was still again.
Hamish shuffled on the spot. He tried to remain silent, but the urge to instruct was too great to contain. “I wouldnae try to shoot with your arm like—”
“Nonsense. All I need to do is aim and…”
The arrow whistled through the trees, spinning in a pitiful arc before bouncing across the grass.
“Good job,” his brother muttered, resuming his lean against the yew trunk. “If you were aiming for the ground.”
Darshan whirled, glaring at Gordon.
“Your posture was wrong,” Hamish said before the pair could start to bicker.
With a huff, his lover lowered the bow. “Do I tell you how to suck me off?” The acerbic tone in Darshan’s voice stung a little. The man had never spoken quite like that before, at least not to him.
Behind Hamish, he caught the overloud growl of Gordon clearing his throat.
“Because I’m good at it,” Hamish shot back, unable to let the jibe fall. “Unlike you with a weapon you’ve barely touched before.”
“You show me how it is done then,” Darshan snarled, thrusting the bow into Hamish’s hands. There seemed to be a little more bravado in the action than it really warranted.
Was Darshan… afraid? He had displayed some uncertainty in his ability to make it through the trials, but little more. Did the prospect of losing gnaw at him as much as it did Hamish?
“Well?” Darshan pressed.
“I havenae picked up a bow since… since the bear.” The only reason he’d brought one out here was more from habit. He wouldn’t even have arrows if it wasn’t for Gordon, for his mother had insisted all manner of sharp objects be kept from his hand.
The admission seemed to chip the haughty mask Darshan had donned. Grief and doubt radiated through the cracks.
“Gor?” he asked over his shoulder. “Give us a wee while alone, will you?”
Grumbling a few half-hearted obscenities, his brother sauntered over to their nephews. The trio instantly crowded their uncle, intent on gaining his praise all for themselves.
Darshan sourly watched Gordon’s passage.
“All right, what’s the real reason behind all this bluster? Did something happen last night that…?” His thoughts trailed off as he recalled what his brother had mentioned during their trek to this part of the forest. Hamish remembered only bits of last night’s feasting and dancing, the rest drowned by alcohol. But his brother was adamant he had done something to fluster Darshan. “Did someone say something that could cause us trouble?” Had that someone been him?
His lover winced. An act he visibly struggled to cover up. “I have not the foggiest clue as to what you are referring to.” Even as he spoke, a faint redness took the man’s cheeks.
Hamish folded his arms and silently ran his tongue over his teeth. If he had said something wrong, then surely Darshan wouldn’t have turned up at all rather than be surly about it.
His lover’s gaze darted to Gordon, seemin
g to ensure the man was well out of earshot. “I availed myself of the archery range last night, before seeking solace in the library, and I—” Sighing, Darshan hung his head. “It shall not matter how many hours I practice or how well I attempt to aim,” he whispered. “Without the aid of my glasses, I might as well be shooting blindfolded.”
“Ah.” He had considered that would be a problem, but he had also foolishly thought Darshan would have a solution. Hamish pulled at his bottom lip, tugging to one side and twisting back and forth between his fingers as he thought. “Can you see the target at all without them?”
Darshan looked back at where Hamish’s nephews and brother chatted animatedly amongst themselves. “That tree they are standing before.” He gently slid his glasses down his nose to peer over the tops. “The entire trunk is a fawn blur.”
“But can you aim for it?” A blur was better than nothing. Aiming in the centre would likely get him a decent shot. Perhaps not the mark he would need, but it was a base to work on.
“I cannot even be certain how far away it is,” he hissed.
“That willnae matter,” Hamish said as he leisurely strolled towards his nephews’ makeshift target with Darshan following. “There’ll be one target to aim for. It’ll be at one set distance. Each competitor will get one go.”
Gordon twisted as they neared, eyeing them with a measure of interest before returning to herding the boys to the line they’d marked before the target.
Darshan screwed up his nose. “That hardly seems fair in itself. I would have thought an overall score. Surely, a poor competitor could win with one lucky shot.”
“If that is the Goddess’ will, then aye.” Hamish agreed. There likely had been such occurrences over the generations. No one seemed to mind. “On the bright side, you’ll ken exactly how good your aim will need to be.”
“How so?”
Shrugging, he drew an arrow from his quiver and inspected the fletching. “The competitors go in reverse order of how they exited the forest run. Except…” He placed a finger squarely on Darshan’s chest. “For the one I’ve announced as being me favoured to win. They go last.”