“Dar’s stronger.” The admission didn’t do much to shuck the unease from his stomach, not after witnessing his lover looking like he’d run the whole way here from Mullhind, but at least he knew the cause.
Grunting and rolling her eyes, Caitlyn turned back around and increased the pace in which they traversed the crowded corridors. “Strength doesnae come into it. He seemed to ken what he was doing, but if he had slipped up then you would’ve been explaining to the Mhanek just how his son died at a cloister.”
And that wouldn’t have had repercussions.
They descended a short flight of stairs where Caitlyn slowed to walk level with him. “So, how are you managing to have your little whatever you call it with him without Mum being aware?”
“About that…”
“They’re doing an abysmal job of it,” Gordon piped up, grinning anew as Hamish aimed another glare at him.
“You mean she does ken?” Their sister exhaled mightily. “Bloody hell, she’s calm down some.”
Their brother shook his head. “Nae really. She just cannae send him home without cause.” Not if she wanted to avoid a war.
They entered the infirmary to the accompaniment of groans and the hushed conversations between healer and patient.
In the middle of it all stood Darshan. He had stripped himself of his sherwani, as well as both undershirts, somewhere between now and the courtyard, leaving him completely bare from the waist up. And yet, despite the slight chill in the air, he seemed content with leisurely drying his hands and conversing with one of the priests.
Caitlyn froze. Her gaze solidly focused on Darshan, who seemed oblivious to the scrutiny. There was little point in denying that there was something about Darshan that drew the eye, whether he was garbed in his silks and jewels or half-naked. But the current aura he projected seemed diminished from the man’s usual confident stance.
“See that he gets plenty of fluids,” Darshan continued saying to the priest, the clip of authority in his tone enough to have the priest bobbing in agreement at every other word. “A light broth, if the kitchen can manage it. I would not recommend allowing him to do any heavy work for at least a few weeks, a month just to be safe.”
Hamish tipped his head closer to his sister’s ear. “Mine,” he whispered. “So stop staring.”
A bloom of pink darkened her cheeks. “I… I wasnae—” she spluttered, shoving him and giving his shoulder what he supposed she considered a solid punch. It might’ve hurt back when they were kids, but he had connected harder with animals and trees since then.
At their backs, Gordon snickered.
Darshan turned, finally noticing them. His face was drawn and slightly on the grey side. Even his smile was a pale imitation of his usual energetic grin.
Before the spellster could take a step towards them, a young man in the robes of early priesthood scurried over to Darshan’s side with a bundle of clothes and a cup of wine. He spoke to the Udynean, low words Hamish couldn’t quite make out.
Darshan wasted no time in downing the whole cup in a few gulps before taking the shirt and overcoat. Only then did Hamish notice a ripple of heat surrounding the man. Had he been using magic to keep himself warm?
“That’s an interesting scar,” Caitlyn said whilst Darshan donned the clothing. “How’d you manage it?”
“This old thing?” Darshan brushed a hand over the star-shaped mark on his chest. “A mere token of a hunting accident I was unfortunate to be a part of in my youth.”
“Most who are able to heal to the level you attained dinnae typically scar that badly,” she continued.
“Yes? Well, my half-sister liked to hunt with infitialis-tipped arrows.”
Caitlyn peered at the man.
Hamish wasn’t certain why. He had seen firsthand how an arrow through the chest affected a spellster, even if any sign of the wound Darshan had suffered a week ago was long gone. It had been quite the feat to come back from without any special arrowheads. Lucky it wasnae nearer his heart. Did infitialis have an effect on the healing process? He knew very little about the metal other than its rareness. He’d never even seen a piece.
Instead of pressing Darshan on the matter, Caitlyn silently tailed him as he went about tending to a man lying prone on a nearby bed. He placed his fingers on the man’s neck, checking for a pulse, and seemed satisfied enough to peel back the blankets to expose scarred skin still stained with blood.
“You seem to know your way around a patient,” she said.
Darshan glanced up from his examination. “As they say back at the academy, you never really stop being a healer. Although, to hear Anjali tell it, you would think I have a personal vendetta against mortal injuries because of what happened to our mother.”
“Was she gravely injured?”
“You could say that. She died giving birth to my twin.”
Caitlyn jerked back, a gasp lingering in her wake. “I—”
“—am sorry to hear that.” Darshan shot her an understanding smile. “I know. It’s all right. I made amends there some time back. Yes?” This last word was given with little more than a glance to the head priest.
Hamish looked about him. Just how had the man managed to slither to Darshan’s side with barely a hint of his presence? The doorway was at their backs. He would’ve had to walk straight past them. Was there another entrance or was he losing the ability to tell when other people were in his immediate proximity?
“Your highness.” The man genuflected with a flourish of his hand before him. “The cloister is indebted to you for this man’s life. And I am doubly so for you wresting my son from a premature greeting to the Goddess’ bosom. How can we repay you?”
Darshan was silent for some time, his hand resting on the unconscious man’s chest and those hazel eyes unfocused.
What do you see? His sister had tried to explain
