“I ken you did,” her father murmured. “But you could’ve caused a whole mess of trouble.”
It likely wouldn’t have been too bad once it was revealed to be a child’s prank. The worst case would’ve had everyone exposed for the final trial. And that also would’ve meant Darshan being taken right out of the contest, if not the kingdom, especially once his mother found out.
“Could’ve gotten a certain someone disqualified,” Bruce mumbled.
Ethan snorted in clear agreement with his older brother. “That would’ve been a grand shot, ‘Cha,” he muttered. “Having him booted fair out of the running.”
Bruce nudged him, both him and his youngest brother having gone wide-eyed.
“Him who?” Nora asked.
Hamish shuddered. The question came quietly enough, but carried a winter’s worth of chill.
“W-well, I-I…” Ethan stammered, staring up at his mother as if she had become some terrible demon from the old tales. “Did I say him? I dinnae ken where that came from.”
With one brow cocked, she gave her son an unconvinced hum. “What have you two done?” Even though she continued to stare down all three of her sons, Hamish knew that question was directed more at himself and their brother.
“If we tell you,” Gordon replied before Hamish could think of a plausible lie. “You cannae go squealing to Mum.”
She turned her sharp stare on them. In the scant light streaming through the windows, the resemblance to their mother lifted the hairs on his arms. “Leave us,” she ordered the children, who were quick to heed the command. Only once the library door was firmly closed did she speak again. “So you two are responsible for Darshan competing, then?”
Hamish’s mouth dropped open.
Beside him, their brother sputtered. “Goddess’ teats! How did you—?” He sighed. “Aye.”
“I ken, because I pay attention to details, you dolts. He wasnae in the guest room this whole time and I couldnae find him elsewhere.” She paced before the book-laden desk, snarling a few choice words just under her breath. “I cannae believe you two would—”
Hamish ducked behind Gordon as she continued to rant. Using his brother’s bigger frame as a barrier seemed like a good idea. When Nora got this angry, there was no predicting what she would do, but hurling objects at the root of her rage was always an easy bet.
Sure enough, the empty inkwell whizzed by his shoulder to clang off the wall at their backs.
Gordon dove for the nearest shelf of books, leaving Hamish to find his own shelter behind another.
“Are you both dense?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea what you’ve set in motion? He cannae compete.”
“There’s nae rule against it,” Hamish mumbled. Just convention. He dared to peek around the edge of the shelving. She didn’t seem any less angry, but the lack of a book flying his way meant she was calming down.
“That’s nae what I meant. You—” She jabbed a finger in his direction, then in Gordon’s. “Do either of you have any idea who he is?”
Hamish opened his mouth to reply. Out of all the Udynean Darshan had taught him, translating his lover’s title hadn’t been in any of his lessons.
“He’s Darshan vris Mhanek?” Gordon ventured before Hamish could admit his ignorance. He still hadn’t the courage to face their sister.
She stopped her pacing and, with one hand planted firmly on her hip, rubbed her temple with the other. “And do you understand what that title translates to?”
Hamish hung his head. On the edge of his vision, he spied his brother doing the same. It was a title? Why hadn’t he considered that earlier? Especially when he knew Mhanek translated to emperor. “Imperial prince?” What else could it be?
“So, Darshan’s a prince,” Gordon said. “Mum already made us aware of that. Does it matter? Darshan being the emperor’s son just means he has the credentials to compete.”
Groaning, Nora rolled her eyes. “Did neither of you think to do even a wee bit of research since his arrival? You’ve been learning Udynean from him,” she growled, rounding on Hamish with such ferociousness that he flinched. “What’s your excuse?”
He hunched his shoulders. “I didnae think it was a title?” Whoever heard of a title coming after the name? The people didn’t go around addressing him as Hamish Prince. “I thought it was honorific. Something to say he was the Mhanek’s son.”
“It is to signify he’s the emperor’s son. But—” She shook her head and grumbled under her breath words that he was certain she would’ve disciplined her own husband for uttering. “He’s nae a prince. He’s the prince. I looked into it, as per his last threatening suggestion.”
“He threatened you?” Hamish blurted. “When? And why?” Darshan didn’t seem like the sort of man to do so without cause, but his sister also vastly preferred negotiation and compromise to outright threats.
She waved her hand as if threats were something she dealt with daily. “It was right before you lads all shot off on your little two-week trip. Leaving me to mollify Mum, I might add.” She shot them both a look she had definitely inherited from their mother. “But the thing is, the vris Mhanek? A vris is more than just a son of the Mhanek. He is the eldest son.”
And only men inherited the Udynean throne, meaning Darshan was… The crown prince. But that couldn’t be right. Darshan couldn’t be the eldest son, because if that were true—
He swallowed, unable to think coherently on what would happen there.
“I dinnae ken how you managed it,” Nora said. “Honestly, I dinnae want to ken. But you cannae have the bleeding heir to the Udynea Empire competing for your hand.”
He turned from his siblings to lean against the bookshelf, infinitely glad that it was there. The heir. Somehow, hearing another say it made it all the
