The chest carried nowhere near its capacity, but still too much to bring with him. Travelling by horse meant the amount of extra weight he could carry alongside the necessary gear was minimal. A pack horse could’ve allowed them to cart more, but they’d be lucky to get away with two mounts as it was.
He rummaged through the chest. What to take? Spare clothes, certainly. Items of value? He’d little there. Only a handful of things that bore sentimental weight. Absolutely nothing he owned had any monetary value beyond the silver ring Darshan had gifted to him.
Did he even have any money?
Something clinked at the bottom of the chest. He dug deeper into the rubble, his questing hands unearthing a small pouch containing a silver coin and a few copper bits. Enough for a night’s stay and a meal at a moderately decent inn. He pocketed the coins and continued his search.
His gaze alighted on the box holding the phallic gift from Darshan.
Hamish had used it just the once. That’d been after dancing with his lover and turning Darshan into a panting mess of a man whilst they lingered in the mezzanine shadows.
Using the toy on himself had been quite the experience. Not as good as having the actual object of his desire inside him, but sufficient in a pinch. And not as risky as an attempt in smuggling Darshan into his room.
Udynea would hold its own set of risks, but who he slept with wouldn’t be that big of an issue. At least, he hoped. He’d only Darshan’s word to go on that everything would be fine once they reached Minamist.
Hamish sat the end of the box on the edge of the chest, resting his hands on the upright end and his chin on his hands. What am I doing? His mouth had run away with him whilst facing his mother, the weight behind his words only now starting to sink in.
I can go anywhere. Do anything. Marry anyone he chose.
There were limits, naturally. Having practically no money wouldn’t get him very far, but he could subsist on the land long enough to get somewhere. And that was a start. He could settle wherever he liked. Not in Tirglas, perhaps, but there were other lands.
And yet…
Doing any of it all seemed rather pointless without Darshan at his side. But he couldn’t expect the man to marry him. His lover would be a fool to not consider the ramifications of uniting himself to an outcast.
Darshan didn’t even need a marriage for them to be together. They could live no differently as lovers.
Shaking himself, Hamish stowed the box into the base of his pack, alongside a few trinkets from his niece and nephews. A few more essentials joined them, such as string for his bow as well as his entire fletching kit; should he need to replace any damaged arrows. Normally, the kit would be without a knife, but still he had that on his belt.
Cramming his clothes on top, he turned to filling the chest with the rest of his things. He would leave the key on his person—same as always—but even if his siblings managed to transport what Hamish couldn’t take with him now, it wasn’t much of a guarantee. No one could’ve known his mother would boot them from the kingdom this swiftly. He doubted anyone could predict what action she would take after mourning her supposed loss.
Hoisting his pack onto his shoulder, he gave the room one final glance. Without the personal touch of his things gracing the nooks and crannies, his quarters seemed little more than a shell.
Not that it had been much better with the items there. Keeping things sparse had been a way to tell if something went missing as a boy. It had merely become habit.
Hamish strode out the door, nodding his final farewells to the two guards lingering on the other side. Gordon had ordered the duo there after the disqualified competitor tried her hand at molesting Hamish, but he hadn’t expected anyone to still be here after the incident in the field. Certainly not the familiar faces that had greeted him, given that Sean and Zurron had never guarded the entrance to his quarters before. They’d usually be marching the walls.
Had that only been last night? Aye. He ached through to the bone and the day wasn’t even over.
He burrowed his fingers into his hair, tugging at the coils, desperately hoping it would pull him from this nightmare. But no.
The corridors between his room and the guest quarters were devoid of all but the occasional servant. Each one scurried away once he was spotted as if he was a ghost. One man even squeaked and looked close to fainting as he staggered into a small supply room. Hamish had considered checking on the man—he hadn’t heard the servant collapse—but decided against it.
Could it be that his mother had spread word of his apparent death? So swiftly? And with enough conviction that it was considered as irrefutable truth? Or had they been given strict orders to avoid him? With, perhaps, violent repercussions should they disobey.
Both seemed equally feasible given his mother’s mental state. He had asked Sean and Zurron if either had heard of anything, but they’d been pretty much confined to that one corridor. They didn’t even know Hamish had been exiled until he told them.
Hamish turned the final corner to discover the door to the guest quarters sat wide open. He halted, his ears straining to detect trouble.
The sounds within suggested only Darshan occupied the room. Perhaps his lover was having a problem in choosing what to leave behind. The man’s travel chest had been packed to near bursting.
“If we’re going to make good time before the sun sets,” Hamish said, stepping through the doorway. “It’ll be best if we—” The words died on his tongue as
