Unlike Hamish, who walked with the purposeful shuffle of the weary, Darshan could barely lift his feet. His passage through the undergrowth involved quite a bit of stumbling over tree roots, grass and even his own feet.
His stomach grumbled endlessly as they trudged. His body cried out for rest, for deep uninterrupted slumber. He fought the pull with every inch of his remaining strength. It would’ve been dangerous to heed such a call in the confines of the Minamist Palace. Out here, such a choice would be lethal.
His feet stumbled over yet another imaginary bump in the earth. He pitched forward, halted only by Hamish’s steadying hands. Whatever life-force Darshan had poured into his lover, the man certainly had more energy than himself.
“You’re ice-cold,” Hamish murmured, hoisting Darshan’s arm over his shoulders and continuing to walk resolutely through the forest. “You sure you dinnae want to stop for a bit? I could get a fire going.”
Darshan shook his head. Even that small amount of movement taxed him. What he needed most was nourishment, something to replace what his magic had consumed to take the risk he had made. The measly scraps of last night’s meal hadn’t been near enough to fill his stomach never mind replace what he’d lost in healing. Hunting for more was out of the question, what with Hamish’s snapped bowstring.
Only the castle could provide the amount that Darshan would require. Preferably in meat.
Hamish grunted. “We’ll make better time once we reach the road. We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.” True to his word, the undergrowth parted to reveal the stretch of mud and gravel that made up the road they had ridden down yesterday. Hamish halted as they finally breached the forest. He stood on the roadside, his attention trained on something coming up the path.
The shadowy bulk swiftly turned into a retinue of mounted guards with Gordon at the lead.
Darshan’s legs sagged at the sight, relief further sapping the little strength he clung to. Had the horses reached the castle so soon? Or had Gordon planned on heading a search for them anyway?
Either way, there appeared to be two spare mounts. At least they wouldn’t be forced to walk or leave some of the guards behind.
Gordon’s horse slid to a halt before them. “Thank the Goddess you two are all right. Your horses arrived at the gates midmorning, sweating and near exhaustion, you’ve got everyone back home thinking—” He all but leapt across the space between Hamish and his horse, stopping from fully embracing his brother only once his hands already had a firm grip on Hamish’s shoulders. “Bloody hell. What happened to you?”
Hamish waved a hand, grasping at the blood-stained tatters of his shirt. “Just a bear.” Brushing his brother aside, he escorted Darshan to the nearest riderless horse and assisted in him clambering aboard.
Any further questions posed to Hamish only had him glossing over what had transpired. Aye, he’d been attacked. Aye, the bear was responsible for his clothes being in tatters. Aye, the blood was his alone. And aye, the creature was dead, thanks to Darshan.
Gordon glanced at Darshan, disbelief over the whole story plastered across his face. But if he was looking for more answers, then he seemed content to bide his time. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Darshan replied. “I feel like it.” He slumped in the saddle. At least the horse didn’t appear in a hurry to return to the stables. He rather doubted he had the strength to direct the animal, much less halt a stubborn beast.
“He needs food,” Hamish supplied, hoisting himself into the only free saddle. “The sooner, the better. I think he almost tore himself apart trying to save me.” A shadow passed across his face. He clearly still didn’t think himself worthy of the effort.
A quick rummage through everyone’s saddlebags produced little; a wedge of cheese with edges as hard as rock and half of a loaf that tasted like it had been baked last week.
Darshan devoured it all, right down to the final crumb. He’d need more, but this would shake the ghost of lethargy haunting his bones. He might even be capable of a little conjuring without passing out by the time they arrived at the castle gates.
Gordon swung his horse to march beside Darshan’s mount as they began their journey towards the castle. The man gave only the twitch of a brow towards Darshan, his gaze flicking to Hamish and back.
Darshan replied to the man’s silent query with a bow of his head, mouthing ‘later’. Seeing Hamish back in the castle, ensuring his lover couldn’t finish what he had attempted, was his first priority. He wouldn’t speak of what had happened until then, certainly not in the company of unknown variables like the guards.
Velveteen twilight graced the sky by the time they reached the castle gates. Even confined in granite walls, Darshan didn’t dare to leave Hamish’s side as they entered the castle proper, much to his lover’s consternation.
He would’ve followed Hamish into his quarters had the customary trio of guards not been waiting outside the man’s door. They sneered at Hamish’s arrival, a steely coldness settling into their eyes as they eyed Darshan.
Unperturbed, he leant against the wall and idly tapped the heel of his boot against the other toe. The guards seemed to be the same three that had invaded the guest quarters in the only time Hamish had lingered there. How hard would they try to stop Hamish from harming himself? Had they been ordered to keep him alive should the unthinkable happen? Or did Queen Fiona believe a dead son was better?
His focus slid to the door handle. How long had his lover been in there? Long enough to shed his bloodied clothes? Perhaps he hadn’t gotten that far. What if he currently laid sprawled unconscious on the floor?
That final thought gnawed at him. By Hamish’s own admission, the guards wouldn’t
