“What if he’s discovered before it’s over?” If his lover was unmasked whilst Hamish was in here, he wouldn’t know Darshan had been found out until it was too late to salvage the day. “What if—?”
“It hasnae happened yet.”
But there were more competitors before. Darshan could’ve gotten lost in the crowd as just another veiled face. Being one amongst nine gave him fewer opportunities to keep his head down.
“There are so many ways things could go wrong,” Hamish mumbled. “I could make him miss. I could miss.” Darshan had explained during his attempts to teach Hamish magic that, given the weakness of his ability, his emotional state could greatly affect what he was capable of. “One of the others could hit the centre. Or—”
“You’re nae going to miss. You’re good at archery. You’ll make sure he hits the target.” Gordon’s conviction seemed to waver at the last statement. It had taken some convincing for his brother to grasp that Hamish’s talent with a bow was in part due to magic. “And if one of the others matches you, there’s nae much you can do about it.”
“What if I cannae focus when the time comes?” Guiding another’s arrow was all so very new. If he’d had more time to practice, then he wouldn’t be left doubting himself. “If he fails? What then?”
Sighing, his brother got to his feet and clapped his hands on Hamish’s shoulders. “I guess then we’ve nae choice but to let them ken about you two.”
“I…” It was one thing to have his family know, but others? Even a handful of guards was as far as it went. Announcing it to all the clans once Darshan won was a big step, but to do that same thing with his lover disqualified? “I’m nae sure I can do that.” Not with another as the victor.
“You’ll be fine.” Gordon squeezed Hamish’s shoulder, holding him firmly in place. “Dinnae think on all the bad that could happen. Think on what you want.”
“All I can think of is how everyone will ken soon.” He had never imagined letting more than his family and a few quick flings know that he liked men.
“If you dinnae want to go through with this…”
“Then what? Have one of the others win? Force myself to be someone I’ll never be?” There was no other choice. Not one he could live with. “I have to take this chance.”
Gordon nodded. He opened his mouth, then swiftly shut it and cocked his head.
Hamish strained to make out the words amongst the droning beyond the tent walls. Had they just missed the call for his appearance? He held his breath as if it would somehow help him hear.
“They must be getting close,” his brother mumbled, shaking his head. “Or I’m going senile. Maybe I should—”
Ethan burst through the tent flap before Gordon could take a step towards the entrance. He halted in front of them, doubling over and panting like a winded boarhound as soon as his feet slid to a stop. He waved a small wooden box at Hamish. “Take,” he managed.
Hamish did as the boy requested. Peeking inside the box revealed Darshan’s glasses nestled amongst a swathe of silk. “Where did you find this?” He knew where it should’ve been. How his nephew had gotten hold of it was a different matter.
Ethan shook his head. “Nae found,” he replied between puffs. “Given.”
“The person who these belong to gave them to you?”
With his breathing normal again, his nephew nodded. “For me to give to you, aye. For after, he said.”
For when he’s won. Darshan would need to expose his face and, even if everything went as they planned, the man would be vulnerable standing in the middle of a field without decent vision. Hamish slipped the case into his belt pouch, grumbling to himself as it barely fit. “Are they ready for me?”
Ethan nodded. “Me mum sent me over when you didnae show.”
Of course. He’d been too busy fretting that he had missed the announcement. He grabbed his bow, fiddled with checking the string—an act he must’ve done a dozen times this morning—and exited the tent.
The roar of the crowd hit him with full force. A horde of people filled the field. Cheers and cries drowned out any other sound. Hamish acknowledged them all with a stiff nod and raised his bow to a renewed cheer from the crowd. In their eyes, they were witnessing the Goddess’ selection of a new princess, not the disownment of a prince.
He strode towards the waiting competitors.
The women turned as he joined them at the mark—a simple length of rope pegged to the ground. Darshan stood off to one side. The ruby heart Hamish had gifted him just yesterday afternoon sat proudly upon his overcoat, gleaming in the midday sun.
Hamish glanced over at the temporary stage. Both his older siblings and their children sat in the shade of an awning, whilst his parents stood near the stage edge. His mother spoke, he knew that only because her mouth clearly moved.
He swallowed a sudden lump of uncertainty threatening to seal his throat shut. I can do this. He just had to block out everything else, focus only on the black circle painted in the centre of the target. The canvas draped over the target wasn’t typical, but beneath it sat the usual lengths of straw, bound and coiled into a vaguely circular shape. Just like those used in the castle training grounds.
A steward trotted over. Her job would be to ensure that every loosed arrow bore no inherent flaws, as well as noting that no one stepped over the rope. Including himself. She handed him an arrow.
Taking a deep breath, Hamish nocked the arrow and loosed. Dead centre. Right where he had aimed. He didn’t need to wait for the stewards at the far end to announce it. He could feel the rightness within his very core.
All he needed to do now was stay back and let the Goddess’ grace dictate where the
