by Aldrea Alien
Hamish strode up the stairs and flung the castle doors open wide. It earned him a glare and an exasperated huff from his mother, but he was well beyond the point of caring what she thought of his actions. He would’ve dragged Darshan before the clan members and snogged the man if he wasn’t so sure that acting on the impulse would lead to a civil war.
Unhampered, he continued storming down the entrance hall on his way to the library. It was one of the few places that had remained quiet and, more importantly, devoid of women attempting to cosy up to him. Perhaps he would get lucky and Darshan would pay a visit to the spot.
“Where do you suppose the ink came from?” Nora asked, sidling closer to Hamish and matching his stride.
He shot her a puzzled frown. “What makes you think I would ken that?”
Shrugging, she turned her attention to their surroundings. They were the same stone walls, faded tapestries and ornamentations that’d been there since before their births. “You didnae try to—?”
He shook his head before she could finish the question. There was no telling what their mother would do if he was caught attempting to rig the trials, but the other clans wouldn’t look favourably on it.
Behind them, Hamish caught the tail end of his brother’s grumbling. He twisted to eye Gordon. His brother’s face was as dark as a thunderhead. “What was that?”
“I think it might’ve been Sorcha,” Gordon muttered.
“Why would you think it was her?” Nora asked.
“What?” Hamish said almost at the same time as their sister. “Just because we caught her down there yesterday?” And she hadn’t been carrying any tools on her that would enable her to coat the underside of every fern along the line. Was there even that much ink in the castle?
Nora’s head had whipped around before the last word could pass his lips. The usual mossy green softness of her eyes had turned to shards of jade. “And what were you doing there?”
Hamish tilted his chin, peering down his nose at his sister. Whilst he’d a high degree of belief that Nora wouldn’t immediately rat out Darshan if told the truth, there was always a nagging doubt gnawing at the edges of his certainty. She did spend a lot of time at their mother’s side. “I was helping Gor mind your lads whilst they practised hunting over proper terrain.”
Her eyes narrowed further until they were mere gleams of reflected light beneath her lashes. “I can almost believe that.”
“It’s true!” Mac blurted.
As one, they turned towards the boy.
In his self-absorbed musing and seething over current events, Hamish hadn’t noticed anyone else tailing them, but all four of his siblings’ children huddled in the middle of the corridor. At the back, mostly hidden by her cousins, Sorcha stood hunched with a fist firmly pressed to her lips.
With little more than the twitch of his head, Gordon ushered them all through the library entrance. A glance revealed it to be empty, despite a desk being laden with books. An overturned inkwell sat amongst the papers strewn across the desk. Tiny, blotchy bootprints tracked from the desk to the cupboard where other inkwells were stored.
Hamish tugged open the door, certain of what he would find. Rows of capped inkwells greeted him. He lifted one of the glass jars from the shelf. Although the design etched into the outer surface obscured much, it was clearly empty. He checked one of the squat, bronze bottles. Unsurprisingly, it also suffered from a marked lack of ink.
He opened his mouth to announce his find to his siblings, only to be cut off by a reedy sob.
“Why did you nae tell me?” Gordon asked of his daughter. He stood over the girl, his arms folded across his chest. Unlike their mother’s fiery blasts of anger, his brother radiated tired disappointment.
Sorcha barely seemed to acknowledge her father’s presence. Her head was bowed, her cheeks red and tear-streaked. “I thought—” She sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her nose. “I thought you’d try to stop me. Uncle Hamish doesnae want a wife. He almost died.” No matter how she tried to contain them, her tears wouldn’t stop. “Just like me mum… me sister.”
Hamish winced. Sorcha might not have been old enough to remember the family she had lost to the man-killer bear, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of their absence or didn’t feel it.
“Oh, me wee lass.” Gordon knelt, his arms wide.
The girl jumped into her father’s embrace. “I thought that, if everyone was marked, then they wouldnae have the next trial and, if they didnae have that, then Uncle Hamish wouldnae need to marry.” She peered at him over her father’s shoulder. “I just wanted to help.”
“I ken you did,” her father murmured. “But you could’ve caused a whole mess of trouble.”
It likely wouldn’t have been too bad once it was revealed to be a child’s prank. The worst case would’ve had everyone exposed for the final trial. And that also would’ve meant Darshan being taken right out of the contest, if not the kingdom, especially once his mother found out.
“Could’ve gotten a certain someone disqualified,” Bruce mumbled.
Ethan snorted in clear agreement with his older brother. “That would’ve been a grand shot, ‘Cha,” he muttered. “Having him booted fair out of the running.”
Bruce nudged him, both him and his youngest brother having gone wide-eyed.
“Him who?” Nora asked.
Hamish shuddered. The question came quietly enough, but carried a winter’s worth of chill.
“W-well, I-I…” Ethan stammered, staring up at his mother as if she had become some terrible demon from the old tales. “Did I say him? I dinnae ken where that came from.”
With one brow cocked, she gave her son an unconvinced hum. “What have you two done?” Even though she continued to stare down all three of her sons, Hamish knew that question was directed more at himself and their brother.
“If we tell you,” Gordon replied before Hamish could think of a plausible lie. “You cannae go squealing to Mum.”
She turned her sharp stare on them. In the scant light streaming through the windows, the resemblance to their mother lifted the hairs on his arms. “Leave us,” she ordered the children, who were quick to heed the command. Only once the library door was firmly closed did she speak again. “So you two are responsible for Darshan competing, then?”
Hamish’s mouth dropped open.
Beside him, their brother sputtered. “Goddess’ teats! How did you—?” He sighed. “Aye.”
“I ken, because I pay attention to details, you dolts. He wasnae in the guest room this whole time and I couldnae find him elsewhere.” She paced before the book-laden desk, snarling a few choice words just under her breath. “I cannae believe you two would—”
Hamish ducked behind Gordon as she continued to rant. Using his brother’s bigger frame as a barrier seemed like a good idea. When Nora got this angry, there was no predicting what she would do, but hurling objects at the root of her rage was always an easy bet.
Sure enough, the empty inkwell whizzed by his shoulder to clang off the wall at their backs.
Gordon dove for the nearest shelf of books, leaving Hamish to find his own shelter behind another.
“Are you both dense?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea what you’ve set in motion? He cannae compete.”
“There’s nae rule against it,” Hamish mumbled. Just convention. He dared to peek around the edge of the shelving. She didn’t seem any less angry, but the lack of a book flying his way meant she was calming down.
“That’s nae what I meant. You—” She jabbed a finger in his direction, then in Gordon’s. “Do either of you have any idea who he is?”
Hamish opened his mouth to reply. Out of all the Udynean Darshan had taught him, translating his lover’s title hadn’t been in any of his lessons.
“He’s Darshan vris Mhanek?” Gordon ventured before Hamish could admit his ignorance. He still hadn’t the courage to face their sister.
She stopped her pacing and, with one hand plan
ted firmly on her hip, rubbed her temple with the other. “And do you understand what that title translates to?”
Hamish hung his head. On the edge of his vision, he spied his brother doing the same. It was a title? Why hadn’t he considered that earlier? Especially when he knew Mhanek translated to emperor. “Imperial prince?” What else could it be?
“So, Darshan’s a prince,” Gordon said. “Mum already made us aware of that. Does it matter? Darshan being the emperor’s son just means he has the credentials to compete.”
Groaning, Nora rolled her eyes. “Did neither of you think to do even a wee bit of research since his arrival? You’ve been learning Udynean from him,” she growled, rounding on Hamish with such ferociousness that he flinched. “What’s your excuse?”
He hunched his shoulders. “I didnae think it was a title?” Whoever heard of a title coming after the name? The people didn’t go around addressing him as Hamish Prince. “I thought it was honorific. Something to say he was the Mhanek’s son.”
“It is to signify he’s the emperor’s son. But—” She shook her head and grumbled under her breath words that he was certain she would’ve disciplined her own husband for uttering. “He’s nae a prince. He’s the prince. I looked into it, as per his last threatening suggestion.”
“He threatened you?” Hamish blurted. “When? And why?” Darshan didn’t seem like the sort of man to do so without cause, but his sister also vastly preferred negotiation and compromise to outright threats.
She waved her hand as if threats were something she dealt with daily. “It was right before you lads all shot off on your little two-week trip. Leaving me to mollify Mum, I might add.” She shot them both a look she had definitely inherited from their mother. “But the thing is, the vris Mhanek? A vris is more than just a son of the Mhanek. He is the eldest son.”
And only men inherited the Udynean throne, meaning Darshan was… The crown prince. But that couldn’t be right. Darshan couldn’t be the eldest son, because if that were true—
He swallowed, unable to think coherently on what would happen there.
“I dinnae ken how you managed it,” Nora said. “Honestly, I dinnae want to ken. But you cannae have the bleeding heir to the Udynea Empire competing for your hand.”
He turned from his siblings to lean against the bookshelf, infinitely glad that it was there. The heir. Somehow, hearing another say it made it all the more real. He should’ve known. It should’ve occurred to him that the Goddess was being too peaceful in allowing this farce to continue.
She didn’t need to intervene because the natural order of their own laws would stop them.
“Why would they send the crown prince as their ambassador?” Gordon asked his face scrunched in genuine puzzlement. “That doesnae make sense.”
The question set a surge of hope through him. They wouldnae do that. At least, it would’ve been unwise of the Udyneans. Harm was unlikely to come to an ambassador within Tirglas, but anything could’ve happened whilst they were at sea. There had to be an older sibling. Darshan had admitted to having around a dozen—
Sisters. Just a twin and a gaggle of half-sisters. All younger than him. Never had his lover mentioned any brothers, not even a younger one. Why did you nae tell me? Had Darshan assumed Hamish already knew? That he wasn’t so ignorant?
Was that the reason behind Darshan’s reluctance to speak of children? Because his lover knew that, eventually, he would have to answer the duty of siring an heir? He thought back to Darshan’s words when Hamish had mentioned the idea of children. Obstacles. Hamish had presumed his lover referred to the usual barriers that kept two men from having children or assassins. But no.
Nora stared at him for a while, her brows knitting together in the middle. Without speaking a word to him, she swung her full attention to their brother. “It does seem rather sudden, though.”
Hamish snorted. That’s rich coming from you. Whilst his brother’s courtship of his wife had been slow and long, Nora’s had been anything but. Calder’s ship hadn’t even been at the port for a week before he had proposed, an act which had been promptly shut down by their mother—because of her insistence on a union contest rather than the shortness of time they had known each other.
Whereas Darshan had been here for a month. And what had Hamish learnt of the man? Certainly not that he was first in line to inherit a whole empire.
Gordon shrugged, the lack of concern rolling down his body as his shoulders fell. “So Dar’s the type who falls deep and fast. I seem to recall someone else who did just that.”
Nora’s mouth twisted as she glared at their brother. “Calder wasnae an imperial prince. Or a spellster. How do we ken ‘Mish is nae under some sort of magical influence?”
Inhaling sharply, Hamish struggled to voice his opinion of such a question. All that came to his lips were a few garbled splutters.
“I already hit Darshan with that question,” Gordon replied. “He said it wasnae possible for him.”
“You asked him?” Hamish finally blurted.
“And you believed him?” Nora asked of their brother before Hamish could get an answer to his own question. He was certainly going to need one by the end of this.
“Why would he lie? If Hamish was ensorcelled, then what would Darshan have to fear from telling me that?”
“I cannae believe you actually asked him if he had put a spell on me,” Hamish snapped. He shoved himself into his brother’s face, ensuring that Gordon couldn’t easily dismiss him. What else had his siblings been stirring behind his back? “I’m nae a child, I dinnae need you watching over me every move.”
“If I hadnae intervened, Darshan wouldnae have entered the competition and you wouldnae have the chance you do right now.” Gordon sighed. “Which is none. You cannae marry him. Or more to the point, he cannae marry you. If he wins you’re just leaving to become a glorified bedwarmer. That is nae what I had in mind when I suggested he compete for your hand.”
“It’s nae the worst outcome,” Hamish snarled back. “Maybe it’s different in Udynea. Maybe men can marry men without having to worry about siring an heir.” With so many sisters, surely one of them had a son who could take the throne after Darshan. Or maybe—he hoped—Nora was wrong.
“Maybe,” Gordon echoed, doubt etching itself into his face. He clapped a hand onto Hamish’s shoulder, drawing them close enough to throw both arms around him. “But you deserve better, ‘Mish. You should nae have to settle for second best.”
“I ken,” he whispered, patting his brother on the back. But if that was the only thing on offer, even if things went wrong once they reached Minamist and he somehow lost Darshan despite everything they had done, anything would be better than staying here and living a lie.
~~~
Darshan picked at the remains of what had once been a full loaf of bread, using the crumbs to idly mop up the gravy on his plate whilst his gaze roamed the main hall. Packed as it was with people chatting along their tables and the merry music that neatly drowned out much of their words, it was oddly comforting.
Soon, most of the tables would be pulled aside for dancing, and he intended to depart before then, but right now he lingered in pleasant company.
He had acquired a small table in a quiet corner of the room and had been quite alone until Hamish, then Gordon joined him. They chatted aimlessly enough with Darshan forced to pretend he didn’t know frivolous detail from fact. It was a facade he was well acquainted with in using the Crystal Court’s tendency to underestimate those they deemed weaker.
Darshan swallowed another lump of beef. “I was unable to see much from my vantage point,” he said, ensuring his voice carried that little bit extra for the flapping ears he had spied congregating around the nearby fireplace. “What exactly were they throwing at the competitors?”
“Animal bladders,” Gordon replied around a mouthful of pork crackling he had plucked from Darshan’s plate. “Filled with dye.”
Whilst Darshan already had an up-clos
e and personal experience with the contests, he nevertheless feigned a suitably aghast expression. “Well, that would explain some of the more colourful faces.” Although their attire covered much, a handful had the misfortune of being hit right in the head. The dye had stained a number of them quite thoroughly.
“Aye,” Hamish rumbled into his mug, rather empty of ale judging by the echo. “The poor lasses got hit hard in that run. But what can you expect when you place people with good throwing arms front and centre?” He gave Darshan the barest trace of a wink and waved a servant over to refill their drinks.
“It is my understanding,” Darshan continued, choosing his words carefully now there were closer ears to spread gossip. “That the prize in question picks the final trial.” He swung to Gordon, outwardly displaying little care that this act brushed his back against Hamish’s shoulder. “If you do not mind my prying, what did you choose?”
“Hunting. Me wife was good at tracking and the like. Swifter than most around here.” He plucked another small strip of crackling, chewing slowly. “Figured it would be the best way for her to come out on top.”
“You had people slaughtering animals purely for the trial?” It was one thing to hunt to ease hunger, but he’d never been one to do so for sport.
Gordon shook his head. “It wasnae a killing hunt. There was a black ram. I tied a charm around one of his horns and sent him off into the forest in the morning, they had to bring him back alive before sunset with the charm still attached.”
Hamish gave a snort that seemed to be a mixture of amusement and annoyance. He tossed a piece of the hard bread crust at his brother, bouncing it off Gordon’s head. “You’re forgetting the part where she did all this whilst pregnant with your eldest lass.”
“Forgive me,” Darshan said before either man could speak. “She was with child during the time she was competing?” He frowned at Gordon. “Your child?”
Pride lit up the man’s face. “That she was. Roughly four months in.”