“Yes?” he managed.
“I didnae mean to wake you, your highness,” a small voice replied. “But Her Majesty is waiting for you in the study.”
“Of course.” He leapt to his feet. A dull thud heralded the toy hitting the floor. Blast. Years had passed since he had been that forgetful or used so much oil. “Inform Queen Fiona I shall be forthwith.” Scooping up the toy, he bundled it into a rag and threw it into the travelling chest. He would deal with it later. Right now, it’d be best to not have such an item lying around where innocent eyes could just stumble upon it.
He made his way to the royal study only after he could be completely certain he had scrubbed away the smell of exertion down to the smallest trace. Applying the customary kohl around his eyes was a far more taxing task than usual, with his hands still shaking, but leaving without it just wouldn’t do.
The study was small, practically minuscule in comparison to the vast chamber his father used back home. He supposed the fact there were only two people to deal with rather than the imperial trade coterie helped in that sense.
Queen Fiona glanced up as he entered, those ice-blue eyes harder than yesterday. “I see we have deigned to join us,” she haughtily announced as if she hadn’t been the one to cut their talks short yesterday.
Wonderful. His gaze darted to Nora. The woman might sit at her mother’s side, but she certainly didn’t seem on it. “My apologies. I overslept.” He settled into the chair positioned on the opposite side of the table and thumbed through his notes. “I believe we were discussing the tariffs on linen?”
“We had gone past that,” Nora tapped on a piece in her own notes, which were scattered between herself and her mother. “We had even agreed on a percentage.”
They had? Frowning, Darshan shuffled madly through his sheaf of parchment. There. A note scribbled in a corner to confirm with his father’s council on the lowest amount he could negotiate with. “Ah, I believe I am still waiting on the pigeon with the official response.” Fortunately, the bird would only need to make the nearest Udynean town. They had faster methods of communication, but alas, being that they relied heavily on magic, he had been barred from bringing such a convenience into the kingdom. “Should we move on to the wool or the leather?”
“Actually, I’d like to focus on the imports, if you dinnae mind? Specifically, iron.”
Darshan nodded. He recalled that, whilst the mountainous Tirglasian countryside might offer an abundance of ores, iron was rather scarce. That would’ve been fine some centuries back, when even the Ancient Domian Empire had only mastered bronze tools, but not in this day and age. “Yes, I have been authorised to trade raw iron and steel ingots from the mines and mills in Oldunmere.”
“That’s…” Nora swivelled in her seat to glance at the large tapestry on her right. Someone had taken great pains to stitch out an elaborate map of the known world, right down to the small plague islands dotted beyond the shores of the Stamekian capital city.
At any other time, Darshan would’ve marvelled at such work. Now, he had to resist the urge to fidget. “You will find Oldunmere is above the Shar, your highness. The big lake in the middle.”
“Ah.” She turned back, one sandy brow arched. “That’s quite a distance. And inland at that.”
He inclined his head in agreement. “The mines closest to your border are regrettably absent of the materials you seek and the ones near Minamist are, as I understand it, not on the table.”
“And what if we really wanted them?” Queen Fiona murmured. “Could we nae just go in and take them?”
Darshan stared at her. It almost sounded as if she was suggesting her people would invade the Udynea Empire. For iron the imperial citizens would gladly trade. He had to be missing something. “I do not understand.”
“I welcomed you into me home. We dined together as allies.”
“Mum,” Nora said, her stern voice an absolute joy to hear after her mother’s sharpness. “I ken you’re pissed, but could we get back to discussing the actual reason he’s here?” She tapped on the pile of scrolls and loose sheets of parchment. “This is in everyone’s interest.”
Queen Fiona continued to bore her icy gaze into Darshan without a hint she had heard her daughter. “You repaid me hospitality by defiling me son.”
Scoffing, Darshan rolled his eyes. One kiss, it seemed, was enough to have him thrown in the same dank category as criminals. “Your son was hardly shocked by the act. I would even hesitate to say he was mildly stunned.” And Hamish wasn’t the only one to exhibit a rather reduced level of surprise. Queen Fiona had been angry, yes, but not in the least bit taken aback. “Honestly, it was a kiss. You are acting as if I bent him over the counter and had my way with him then and there.”
No sooner than the words had left his mouth did he spy Nora trying to hide a wince.
“Nae doubt, if it hadnae been for one of me people causing a ruckus that is exactly what you would’ve done next.”
Darshan shot to his feet, the chair crashing behind him. How dare she! He was not some animal. He had morals. Limits.
The air, especially directly around his hands, was far too hot. He fussed with his sleeves, trying to calm himself. Any greater a temperature and there would be combustion. He couldn’t risk that. Not here, surrounded by at least a dozen flammable, and very important, objects.
“It would seem you are not in the mindset to discuss things civilly.” As much as his pride demanded he didn’t let the insult slide, allowing the queen to calm down would surely be a far better outcome for his land in the end. He turned to face Nora and bowed. “I do apologise, your highness,
