“I fecking hope not,” Zurron muttered. “Last thing we need is a bloody war.”
“And it is the last thing my father wants,” Darshan assured the man. That didn’t mean Udynea wouldn’t be ready for one. The empire fought with herself more often than not. Squabbles amongst lords that were only settled after imperial forces moved in. It certainly kept the army sharp.
He glanced over his shoulder. The tower stood dark against the blushing peachy hue of the sky. Surely, with the speed they travelled and the time they’d wasted, any troops sent to fetch them would’ve already arrived. They were acting alone. There would perhaps be additional tongue lashings for the two princes, and further ignoring of his own presence, but nothing further.
At least, he could hope.
Every time he saw the cloister on Crowned Mountain, Hamish was in awe of its ability to remain in place. Hewn from the very cliff face, it clung to the side of the mountain. Slashes of green broke up the grey-brown monotony of the mountainside, gardens to supplement the tithe gifted to them by the very farms their group had visited on the way.
It had taken them seven days to get here since leaving Mullhind. All of them without a sign of being followed.
He thought the delay at Old Willie’s, and the messy business at the guard outpost, would’ve left them too far behind to make the trip today worthwhile. But they had made up the lost time by way of Darshan’s globe of light illuminating the road as dusk drew near. Just a half-hour here and there had swiftly added up, leading to them spending less time in the dubious safety of tents and more in the security of barns and sheds.
They had halted just off the road winding up the mountainside. A spring lay in the clearing, the warm water bubbling up from somewhere deep in the ground.
His lover stood at his elbow, staring up at the building. Darshan seemed unimpressed with the structure, but then the cloister was an old Domian outpost. Given that the southern half of Udynea was once part of the ancient empire, it undoubtedly had dozens of such buildings. “How far away is it?” Darshan asked. “Will we be required to climb?”
Hamish shook his head. Whilst the cloister had a solid rope and pulley for hauling supplies up the cliff face in a half-hour, few were willing to risk their lives to such a contraption. The road stopped at the foot of the cliff where a narrow path snaked its way up to the cloister gates. “It’s an hour or two via horseback.” They would spend the night there before heading off for home come midmorning.
“Then why are we stopping?”
“To cleanse ourselves,” Gordon replied. “The priests prefer visitors to be unsoiled before entering.” He jerked his head at the pond from which their unsaddled horses currently drank. “A little dip usually suffices. We’ll eat on the way up.”
“Bathe in a natural pool in the middle of nowhere? How terribly rustic.” Although Darshan continued to affect a casual air, a hint of trepidation lurked in the flatness of his lips and the dull way he eyed the pond.
With the horses tethered, they shed their clothes and leapt into the water. The pond was deep enough for even his father to relax sitting down. Although, just how tall his father stood was a bit of a mystery to them. He had fond memories of him and his brother attempting to measure their father’s height as boys without him knowing. Seven foot was their estimate.
Hamish slithered into the pond, tepid water enveloping him like a warm sheet in winter. He sank until only his chin sat above the surface. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back against the edge of the pond. The act of bathing usually took a few minutes of scrubbing to ensure all the dirt was gone, but no one was exactly in a rush to clamber up the mountain.
After a while, he became aware of the presence not far away on his right. That better nae be you, Gor. His brother had a wicked sense of humour when it came to water games. Most were harmless enough if both parties knew how to swim, but he wasn’t in the mood for a dunking.
Opening his eyes revealed Gordon to be bobbing amicably on the other side of the pond with the two guards chatting to his left. And Dar?
He twisted to find his lover sitting quietly at the side of the pond, not that far from where Hamish floated. Odd. The man had been bemoaning the lack of a decent tub to bathe in all the way here.
Hamish pushed himself off the rocky bottom of the pond, drifting closer to Darshan without looking like the man was his goal. Halting at his lover’s feet, he rested his arms on a flat rock. “Are you nae going to join us?”
With his lips curving into a watery imitation of a smile, Darshan shook his head. “Thank you, but I shall politely decline the offer. I am perfectly all right staying dry.”
“It’s nae cold.”
Silent laughter creased the corners of those hazel eyes. “That is not my concern.”
Hamish clambered onto dry land. Water dripped from his beard, trickling down his chest in a freezing trail as the spring breeze cooled the drops and nipped at his bare skin. “What is, then?”
That hazel gaze darted down then back up and Darshan’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips. Still, he remained uncustomarily silent. During much of their travels, the man had barely stopped talking, be it to attempt teaching Hamish the Udynean language or natter with either Gordon or the
