His question was silenced by his lover giving him another hearty pat on the back.
“Speaking of bed, you need to rest. A lot of things hinge on tomorrow’s outcome and keeping your focus sharp will require a clear head.”
Hamish twisted where he sat, fingering the blankets. His limbs were leaden, but his mind endlessly tumbled over the event. “I cannae sleep.” It wasn’t merely the idea of doing so alone, for Darshan would undoubtedly stay if he asked. “Nae here. I just… cannae…”
Darshan nodded, his understanding expression remaining the same even as Hamish continued to ramble. “Come share my bed, then.” His fingertips slid across Hamish’s shoulder and down an arm until they were clasping hands. Linking their fingers, Darshan gently led the way to the door.
His lover’s hand remained firmly joined with Hamish’s as they walked through the corridors. They met not a single soul in their passage, even though Hamish was certain there would be the odd servant still up and about. Or a guard.
The guest quarters were warm. The embers of a burnt-out fire still cast a faint, red glow in the hearth.
Darshan strode across the room as if he had always lived here, lighting an array of candles set on the bedside table with the snap of his fingers. He flung open his travel chest with barely a touch and hauled out a small wooden box.
Hamish trailed after his lover, squinting at the sudden brightness. The light threw weird, wavering shadows upon the walls and glittered across the various glass vials and metal bottles his lover withdrew from the box.
He idly wandered the room, passing the dressing mirror standing tall in the corner near Darshan’s travel chest. How long had his features seemed so tight and dark? The whole time? He glanced at the reflection of Darshan as the man continued to fuss with a vial of some powdery substance. Nae wonder he’s been thinking the worst.
“Do sit down, mea lux,” Darshan said as he returned the vial to the box and resumed his rummaging. “I shall not be long.” He set aside a small glass bottle of dark powder to take up the mug and pitcher.
Hamish obeyed, shucking what little clothes he had managed to pull on once the woman had been distracted by his brother.
As soon as his backside was planted on the edge of the bed, his thoughts started to pace. Like a rabid boarhound worrying at a flock of sheep, his mind refused to let go of the troubles tomorrow would bring. “What are we going to do about the trial?”
Darshan set down the bottle he’d been pouring into the mug. “What do you mean? Nothing has changed.” He frowned. “Has it?”
“Maybe.” All manner of things could change what they had planned for. His mother could finally realise Darshan was participating, the woman who had molested him could announce her findings—even without knowing the truth about Darshan, throwing suspicion would be enough—or something even worse could rear its head. He didn’t know. “Even with sleep, I’ll be in nae fit state to focus and you’re nae going to win without me.”
His lover gave a grin that Hamish suspected was mostly bravado. “What sort of encouragement is that to give your chosen suitor?”
“I ken you’re trying your best at a skill you’ve nae much practise with, but many of our people are good at hunting. They have to be. They’ll hit the target, too.” Maybe not dead centre, but that wouldn’t matter when Darshan, for all his enthusiasm, hadn’t been able to even once land a hit on his own. “And even if you did… me mum doesnae like the idea of you being near me.”
Scoffing, Darshan returned to the mug. “That is quite apparent.”
“I’m pretty sure that she’s nae going to let you take me anywhere.”
His lover continued to fuss with his concoction, humming softly. “Your mother is capable of confining her poisonous tongue when it is warranted, I witnessed that tonight. Maybe she will also see the benefits of having a son in the Crystal Court.” Those dark brows lowered as he strode to Hamish’s side with the mug. “But I will win and I will take you from this place.” He offered up the mug. “Drink this.”
Hamish peered at the contents, tipping the mug until the candlelight illuminated the cloudy water. The grainy remains of the dark powder floated on the surface. “What is it?”
“You need sleep.”
“I dinnae think I can.” Even away from his room, the thought of leaving himself in such a vulnerable state was unthinkable.
“Which is why you need to drink.”
Hamish eyed the mug’s contents anew. The man had made a sleeping draught? Steeling himself, he took a swig. Not an unpleasant taste. Swishing the remainder around to help mix the powder, he swallowed the rest. “How soon will this put me to sleep, then?”
“Not at all. Not at that dosage. But it should relax you enough to allow you to drift off on your own.” He laid a hand on Hamish’s shoulder, the pressure gently encouraging him to lie back on the bed. A few more of such actions and Hamish found himself neatly tucked beneath the blankets. “And do not worry about any interruptions to your slumber. I shall be here the whole time.”
“I didnae think you’d be dancing along the eaves,” Hamish murmured, the words sounding slightly drowsy to his own ears. He snuggled deeper beneath the blankets. His lids lowered and reluctantly opened. The dreamless dark of slumber beckoned him.
Another blink, even slower than the last. Darshan was right. He could close his eyes for a little while without anything untoward happening. Just a wee while. An hour would see him refreshed.
His lids slid closed. Hamish no longer attempted to fight their descent. The warm,
