Darshan stiffened. What little emotion that’d graced his lover’s face swiftly fled. “If she dares to try, she will find I am nowhere near as easy to have permanently removed.”
“I think that’s already clear to her.” Hadn’t his brother told her the consequences of a war with Udynea? He certainly hoped she remembered. Darshan hadn’t exactly thrown his magical muscle around for the kingdom to marvel, but Hamish had seen firsthand what the man could do when wounded and lashing out on instinct. And there were plenty of stories telling of how dangerous spellsters could be if provoked.
He didn’t want to think about what an imperial army of them could do to Tirglas if Darshan left here severely injured, especially in a way his magic couldn’t easily mend. And if the vris Mhanek was to just… disappear?
Tirglas might never recover.
“I am sorry about Gordon,” Darshan said, the emotionless mask dropping almost as rapidly as it had appeared.
Hamish shrugged, his thoughts sluggishly returning from the vision of forests and villages falling like driftwood fortresses before a wave. “It wasnae your fault he ran his mouth off.” And his brother was going to get such a clout over the head for it the next time Hamish saw him.
“And you would lay none of the blame at my feet? I could have asked for him to stop.” Darshan folded his arms and peered at Hamish, clearly waiting for a response. “But then, you never offer me anything of your past without me having to tease out every word.”
“And you are so open?”
Darshan rocked back onto his heels. “I have nothing to keep from you. Ask whatever you would wish to know.”
Whatever? Hamish scratched at his chin. What did he desire to know about Darshan? Everything. He’d learnt a little during even the most frivolous conversation, but he wanted to know it all.
However, one thing did demand to be learnt above all else. “Tell me your first time.” He caught a wince of apprehension flicker across his lover’s face before Darshan could speak. “Fair’s fair. You know mine, including how well it went, tell me yours.”
Biting his lip, Darshan stared at the tent walls. “It has a somewhat less drastic ending for myself.”
Hamish would’ve left it at that had he not caught the flash of shame peeking out through his lover’s obvious discomfort. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen,” Darshan whispered, closing his eyes.
“Who with?” He almost dreaded asking. But wouldn’t he have been just as uncomfortable in talking about his time with the old stable master? Probably.
“Men back home tend to fall all over themselves to lay with me,” Darshan babbled. “After all, I am the vris Mhanek. They are of the opinion that pleasing me could grant them a favour, despite the fact I have never actually done so for a single soul.”
“Your first time,” Hamish repeated.
His lover exhaled mightily. “He was… an elven man, not much older than myself.” Darshan laid a hand over his lips as if trying to contain the admission. He glared at Hamish, almost demanding that he say something.
As a people, Hamish had never considered elves as sexually appealing. Those he had met were relatively lean and slightly skittish. Elven men like the guard Zurron were exceptions to the latter, but still not the sort he was drawn to. Clearly, Darshan didn’t agree there.
That didn’t explain why his lover sounded as if he spoke some great secret.
Hamish opened his mouth. “And—?”
“I know what you are thinking.” The words came raggedly. “But he was sweet, gentle, softly spoken and… yes…” Darshan gave a weary sigh. “He was also a slave.”
“That—”
“Do not dare to judge me,” his lover snapped, jabbing a finger at him as he leapt to his feet. “I only learnt that last bit after the fact. That is my only excuse for what I did and, believe me, I know it is not good enough, but that is the truth of it.”
“How could you nae have—?”
“—known?” Darshan finished. “Do you have any idea how many times I have asked myself that same question? That I have not berated myself over it? Because I have more times than I can count.”
“Dar…”
Darshan shook his head, babbling in Udynean as he paced the tent. “I didn’t know he couldn’t refuse. I propositioned him. Me. The only time I have before you and…” His chin wobbled. “And he couldn’t bloody say anything other than yes because I’m the vris Mhanek and he—” He clapped a hand back over his mouth but continued to mumble past his fingers. “I should have known. I should have considered it as a possibility.” He hung his head. “I should have asked,” he whispered.
Hamish waited for the man to compose himself. He’d been accused of luring people down the wrong path, of being possessed by demons intent on dragging him from the Goddess’ side—typically by his mother—but it had never been implied that the other man hadn’t been complicit.
Darshan lifted his glasses enough to dab underneath them. When he spoke again, the words had returned to Tirglasian and were devoid of emotion. “My first time involved me being with a man I can never be certain actually wanted me.” He dropped his gaze. “No, I am still doing him a disservice. He had not the autonomy to refuse my offer and that means he could not have meant it when he agreed. There was no consent given, not freely.” He lifted his head, those red-rimmed eyes all but burrowing into Hamish’s as the man peered down the full length of his hooked nose. “I raped him. That I did not know until after does not excuse what I did. That was what my first time was like.”
Silence continued to reign over Hamish’s tongue. What could he say? He’d never considered taking a man, let alone by force. He couldn’t imagine Darshan as being
