Darshan grinned, wide and feral. The cockiness that’d fallen away when he spoke of healing now snapped back into position. “I have been in a few. More than my father would like me admitting. Strike first, if you must,” he deepened his voice, clearly mimicking someone. “That is what he would say. Hard, fast and first. Then make sure they stay down.” That dark chuckle returned as he slid from the saddle. “Won a lot of scraps that way. Although, it probably helped that most of them knew who I was.”
Hamish glanced up from handing his own mount over to a stablehand. It hadn’t occurred to him to explain that detail to the dockmaster, not that it would’ve stopped Big Billy if he was itching for a fight. “To be honest, I didnae think you were that strong.” He had witnessed others trying their luck with the dockmaster. Not many could beat the man, but those who could hold their own were generally just as bull-like as Billy.
The spellster’s grin wavered, growing a little shy as he peered around Warrior’s back. “If you promise not to tell anyone… I sort of cheated there. You can, if one is as well-practised in healing as I, bolster natural strength with magic. Just for time, a very short time. Pushing that boundary can run the risk of tearing the very muscles apart.”
Hamish clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, steering him out of the stables and towards the castle doors. “Then it’s just as well you laid him out with one punch.”
Darshan winced, then visibly collected himself. “I suppose you expected to be carrying my broken body back. I did have a shield up, not that you would have seen it. If he had tried to hit me, he would not have made it far.”
A shield? They could make those with magic? No wonder the spellster had faced Billy so calmly. And an invisible one, to boot. Hamish scratched at his chin. If he could hunt knowing he couldn’t get hurt, he’d probably go after more of the troublesome bears and boars. “What I actually thought was that you didnae understand him,” he confessed.
The ambassador shook his head. “I have no idea what he said, but I assumed it was derogatory by your reaction.”
“Then why’d you heal his jaw?” Most brawlers would’ve been more than content in leaving Billy broken and bleeding. Doubly so if the man had insulted them.
Darshan mumbled something as they entered the castle proper.
“What was that?” The snippets Hamish had caught hadn’t sounded like any of the Udynean he’d heard. Just a long word that he couldn’t say with all certainty wasn’t actually the man cussing.
“Just an ancient Domian motto. Translates to Offer mercy to the wounded, it confuses the enemy. My father still trots that one out whenever my sisters squabble.” He glanced up at Hamish, the inner corners of his brows lifting in concern. “I suppose I should apologise… for my behaviour.”
Hamish scoffed. “Dinnae fash. Nae many people can say they’ve knocked Big Billy down a peg or two. It was actually kind of fun watching you kick his arse.”
“No, no. That was—” The man bit his lip, his brows lowering slightly in thought. “I meant what transpired before then. It was completely my fault and I—” Huffing, he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I am usually better at this.”
“At kissing men in pubs?” Hamish gently prodded. He had been trying—and failing terribly—to forget that part had happened. His lips tingled at the mere mention.
Darshan laughed, the sound light and with a hint of nervousness. Had he been told what had happened to the last man Hamish had been with? “Well, I did just spend several rather wretched months aboard a ship, so I cannot say it is something I have indulged in recently. But I usually conduct myself with a little more decorum before it gets that far. In public, at least.” He rubbed his neck. “It would seem your Tirglasian drinks loosened me a little faster than I had believed.”
“Oh aye?” On the edge of his vision, he spied the unmistakable sight of his mother storming around the corner and coming their way, flanked by two of the guard. His stomach dropped. He’d been hoping to avoid a confrontation, at least until morning. “Hold that thought.”
“What did you think you were doing?” his mother screeched before she had fully walked the length of the hall. “I cannae believe that after our agreement, you would kiss—”
“Actually,” Darshan blurted. The man stepped between Hamish and his mother, the majority of his body turned to the side so as to not quite be seen directly confronting her. “I kissed him.”
His mother didn’t miss a step. She bore down on them, her forefinger raised like a dagger. “You? How dare you bring this corruption into me home.”
The ambassador straightened to his full height. Although his face had settled into a mask of haughty indifference, fire and anger flashed in his eyes. Still, he didn’t fully face her.
“Mum,” Hamish interjected, shame burning his cheeks. He wasn’t a boy of ten stealing kisses from stable boys. However he felt about Darshan kissing him—and he was still trying to process everything that had happened—he was quite capable of dealing with it.
“Bad enough that I must still deal with your sort under me roof, but that you think you can lay your filthy hands on me son and corrupt him with your ungodly influence is unacceptable.”
Darshan’s mask wavered. His nostrils flared and there was the twitch of his jaw speaking of a retaliatory tongue barely restrained.
“Mum,” Hamish pressed. It couldn’t
