His lover grunted and mumbled under his breath, the words too faint for Hamish to make out.
“What was that?”
Darshan huffed. “Of course I am bloody upset. Every time I think we will make it through this, another damn obstacle rears its head.” He swatted a bush with the outer curve of his bow, seemingly wincing along with Hamish. “I hate it. How do you live like this?”
Hamish eyed the man’s bow. It didn’t appear damaged by the unorthodox usage. Fortunately, they’d had plenty more for practice purposes if it came to that. “Must be new for you, having to play along. I suppose the vris Mhanek gets everything he wants.”
His lover snorted. “Evidently not or you and I would be on our way to Minamist by now.” He slammed his foot down on a half-rotten stick, shattering it to pieces. “I should apologise for my harshness earlier. The stress of all this is overwhelming at times, but I should not have lashed out. Certainly not at you.”
“I understand.” Between his mother’s goading words and the knowledge of what would happen should Darshan fail, Hamish had been hard-pressed to keep his own temper.
Another harrumph exited Darshan’s nose. “Understanding does not make what I said any better.” He halted, his hands resting firmly on his hips as he surveyed the surrounding forests. “So which way would your nephews have gone?”
“North, most like.” That was the direction of the finish line.
Giving a considering hum, Darshan peered up at the canopy of branches and leaves. “The way we have been heading, then?” He resumed walking, taking a little more care of his surroundings. “Do you think they would veer much from that direction?”
Hamish shrugged. The boys knew their way around this place. His mother had insisted on all of them knowing the terrain should the worst befall the castle. Would Darshan fair just as well after one day? He would certainly have the advantage of treading these forests before the other competitors, but they were unlikely to require help to spy the move of a guard readying to lob dye at them.
Maybe he could stash the man’s glasses case under a tree root near the beginning. But then Darshan would have to find it and store it again before he reached the finish line. What if he used one of the boys? Maybe two, so that the second could snatch the glasses back. All three would likely help if he asked, but what then? And how would he explain their absence to Nora? Or Mum. And if they were caught?
“Mea lux? Have we taken a wrong turn?”
Hamish jerked out of his contemplation. How long had he been standing here, keeping an eye out for the very nephews he now faintly heard chasing each other amongst the trees? And me as animate as a log.
Shaking himself, Hamish peered into the undergrowth and, spying nothing of note, continued to lead the way. “You ever wonder what our lives could’ve been like if we were nae like this?”
Darshan frowned. “You mean if I was not myself? Or if you did not have to keep an integral piece of you secret from the wider world? Which one are you trying to ask?”
“Both, I guess.” He had spent years wondering about either scenario. In his darkest moments, he had even prayed that just one would be true, not caring which the Goddess chose to bestow upon him when either would see him free of his cage.
“For the former?” A sneer wriggled its way across Darshan’s lips before being pressed into extinction. “I would probably be married by now. And no doubt knee-deep in heirs.” Indifference, with a hint of loathing, tinted his words.
“You always talk about it with such disdain. Do you nae want bairns of your own?” It was a strange stance to take given he’d been so endearing around Nora’s boys.
His lover sighed. “Mea lux, I adore you more than the sun, but do not ask me that again.”
Hamish breathed deep. It wasn’t quite as easy as that. “You nae answered me last night.” Not properly. And certainly not to his liking. He had always been taught that it was customary to discuss children with a betrothed well before the wedding and he wasn’t about to let it slide just because they were both men.
Darshan hung his head. “No, I did not.”
He wasn’t even sure as to the extent of their options when it came to children or if they would have the same ones in Udynea as they did here. “And we should be talking about it.” And probably about a few other things, too. “Is it that you dinnae want to be a father or—?”
“Partially.” He scuffed his boot along the ground, disturbing a mulch of rich soil and last autumn’s leaves. “My father’s insistence on me siring children rather dulled whatever glittering enchantment the idea had.”
“Your father?” Hamish echoed. He had thought, after everything Darshan had said, that settling into the imperial palace at Minamist would be peaceful. But if the Mhanek wanted Darshan to have children, then Hamish doubted the man would be pleased to see his son arrive already married. Especially to a man. “What if your husband wants them?”
Darshan grinned, arching a brow. “So easily swayed to the idea of marrying me?”
Hamish folded his arms. He was in no mood for jokes. “I’m used to being surrounded by close kin. I ken that you winning the contest will mean you’ll also take me from me family. I guess I sort of expected that we…” He shrugged. “That we’d somehow have wee bairns of our own. That’s what tends to come after marriage,” he mumbled.
Now he had said it out loud, it sounded stupid.
His lover’s cocky smile faded. In its place came the stunned, slightly lip-parted, look of a man lost in fresh understanding. “If that is what you want, I suppose—”
“I kind of assumed we would want it, nae just me.”
Darshan gnawed on his bottom lip. He stared
