Even so, all attempts on his life stopped after that. Now the only poison that touched his lips was the stuff he willingly imbibed.
“That’s a lark and a half,” Gordon managed through a rumble of laughter. “How would someone be immune to a dose of poison that’s designed to be deadly?”
“Not being under the habit of questioning those who practise such techniques, I could not rightly say.” Only the Nulled Ones would likely bother with such methods. Although incapable of being harmed by direct magic, they died as easily as other beings. Perhaps more so, given that magic was also ineffective in healing them. “But imbibing a small amount and gradually increasing the dosage over time seems like a logical start.”
Gordon scoffed around a mouthful of food, gagging on it. He pounded on his chest, coughing and spluttering before regaining his breath in full. “That’d be like saying poking a few wee arrows at your chest will help defend you against one aimed at the heart.”
“Nae really,” Nora replied before Darshan could open his mouth. “More like being bit daily by a male arrowback spider, then being chomped on by the female.” She drew her hands to either side of her face, her fingers twitching in a mimic of a spider’s fangs, and made a noise like that of a stuttering serpent.
Gordon grimaced and shuddered, seeming to shrink to half his size. “Thank you,” he growled, pushing his seat back from the table. “I wasnae planning to sleep tonight anyway.”
The dining hall entrance swung open before Gordon could fully stand, admitting the queen and her prince consort.
Darshan froze, a mouthful of steak halfway to his lips. He should’ve anticipated this, should’ve kept note of how long he had lingered, but he’d been far too consumed with eating.
Across the table, Gordon plonked back into his chair. With his gaze darting all over the room, he quietly shovelled a few forkfuls of food into his mouth.
“Mum,” Nora gasped, jumping to her feet. She shot Darshan a glance that he couldn’t quite decipher but guessed was a warning. “I thought you were staying in the main hall with the competitors tonight?”
“And a mother cannot show interest in her children without inviting suspicion?” Her gaze settled on Darshan as she sat at her usual place at the head of the table. “I see we have consented to mingling this evening. I trust your little trip to one of our humble cloisters has returned you to your senses?”
Utilising every bit of experience he had mustered during his years within the Crystal Court, Darshan managed a neutral smile and small bow of his head. “Yes, things could not be clearer to me now, your majesty.” Just this once, he wished spellsters actually had the ability to—what had Hamish once requested he didn’t do to her?—turn people into slugs.
“Mum?” Gordon leant forward until he seemed to catch Queen Fiona’s eye. He cleared his throat once she acknowledged him. “About the union contest?”
“We’ve a wonderful turnout, despite your brother’s age.” She cast her icy gaze in Hamish’s direction before continuing. “And I dare say there looks to be a few barely permissible competitors amongst the lot. You’d do well to encourage them to try harder than the rest. They’re more likely to bear you plenty of wee bairns.”
“Well, isnae that just grand?” Hamish muttered behind a slice of bread. “I couldnae wind up with just any wife, but one damn near young enough to be me daughter. Just what I’ve always wanted.”
Gripping his fork tighter than was really required, Darshan stabbed his meal.
Again, Gordon cleared his throat. “Is there any chance of you reconsidering?”
Darshan paused with a mouthful of fish resting on his tongue, lest his chewing drowned out any hint of a reply. At his elbow, he sensed Hamish also stilling.
Queen Fiona breathed deep. “The call has been sent, it cannae be rescinded. What else do you expect me to do?”
“Call off the gathering,” Nora suggested.
Could it really be that easy? Chewing quickly, Darshan swallowed his mouthful and said, “You are the queen. Could you not merely tell the other clans that your son is not ready? Would he not serve you better as your ambassador in Udynea?”
Queen Fiona scoffed. “He has had more time than most to ready himself for this duty. And one of them is to sire children. Can he do that in Udynea?” Contempt pulled her thin lips tight. “I dinnae think so, nae whilst he’s warming your bed.”
Darshan slammed down his fork and leapt to his feet. If Hamish had an official position, then he’d have more worth in the Crystal Court than as some plaything. “I am sorry, but this is abhorrent. You know—every single one of you knows—he has no desire to go through with this. How can you just sit there and continue on as if you are not going to destroy his life?”
“Sit down,” Hamish whispered, tugging at Darshan sleeve. “There’s nae a thing you can say to change her mind.”
“Hamish has duties here,” Queen Fiona repeated. “Unlike those of other nations, Tirglasian royals take heed of their customs. My son will do his duty.” She fixed Hamish with a piercing glare. “He will obey tradition.”
“Obey you, you mean.” Darshan couldn’t help the sneer weaving its way across his lips.
“Of course, I am his mother. The only reason he lives is because of me.”
“Your son,” Darshan spat. “Would not even be here for you to hand over like some feast day trophy if it was not for me bringing him back from the brink of a death he wanted.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he realised how badly he had erred. He hadn’t meant to say anything. Later,
