Confident he wasn’t about to burst into flame, Darshan stood. He loomed over Nora, fixing her with a stern glare. “I am vris Mhanek, you would do well to look that up, refresh your memory on what it means. When your Queen insulted me, she insulted Udynea and it cannot be allowed to stand without recompense.”
Nora matched his glare, but she squirmed in her seat. “Me mum is a stubborn woman.”
“Then you may need to remind her that my ancestors have brought hellfire and ruin to lands for less. These negotiations are at the behest of my father. Best you remember that, princess, and not take his desire for peace as a weakness.” He pushed his chair back, leaving the table and stalking past shelves of books and scrolls.
“Is that a threat, your imperial highness?” Nora called after him.
Darshan halted in the doorway. A threat? Him? He chuckled. “Of course not. I have never threatened anyone in my life.” Those who displeased him rarely lived long enough for mere words.
~~~
Hamish waited a good hour before descending the tower. Whilst he knew he hadn’t been followed, he couldn’t say the same for Darshan. It’d be just his luck to have this clandestine, but ultimately innocent, meeting be what had him confined to his quarters again.
You are a grown man. Darshan’s words rang through his mind.
He was right, of course. His mother had never sought to manage his siblings as viciously. He was the stubborn one that wouldn’t step into line, the one who had the bad grace to be attracted to men and not bend on that position. Every time he fought against her wishes, she’d play the same tune of how she only wanted the best for him, to see him happy and married with children of his own.
Years had gone by before he had realised that all she really wanted was the assurance that there’d be another generation to rule should another attack on the royal line come. Once, such a fear would’ve had merit. Now? When his siblings had four living children between them?
Hamish sighed as he closed the trapdoor and descended the tower steps to aimlessly wander through the castle. What real hope did he have in going against his own mother, a woman who would often remark how lucky he was to not have been cursed with magic as his younger sister?
Sometimes, he wished he had been like Caitlyn. Spending a lifetime in a cloister learning how to heal people had to be better than this.
The conversation at breakfast tumbled over in his head. All he had done was casually enquire towards Darshan’s absence at the table. He had thought it a simple question, neutral and fitting given the ambassador’s spat with Hamish’s mother.
“He’s most likely in the guest room,” his mother replied, skewering a sausage with unnecessary force. “Stubborn brat refuses to share the same room with me until I’m ready to continue negotiations, so he dines in his quarters like the uncultured swine he is.”
Hamish winced. It wasn’t the first time she’d spoken ill of Udyneans. Why did she choose to accept the extended offer of peace between them in the first place? He mulled that thought as it ghosted through. Their trades with the Obuzans and the Cezhorians had been satisfactory for years.
“Mum,” Gordon piped up. He set down his utensils and steepled his fingers. “Are you nae being a little childish?”
“He assaulted your brother,” she snapped, slamming her fork down into a thick slice of roast mutton. “I honestly thought you’d be more upset over that.”
Ethan gasped. “He did? But he seemed so nice.”
Nora wrapped a consoling arm around her boy, shushing him.
“It was a kiss, Mum,” Gordon growled. “And the only one harping on about it is you.”
“I should have him shipped back to his heathen people, just like that dwarf.”
Hamish’s heart thudded an extra beat. Exiling a dwarven ambassador was one thing. To do the same to a Udynean prince? Did his mother have any idea as to the ramifications of such an act?
“We need this treaty,” Nora said, still keeping her son in a tight hold. “They’re extending a hand in peace. We knock that aside and the next gesture we see will be our forests burning.”
“We cannae afford a war with them,” Gordon added.
Hamish had left after that, unable to stomach the thought of a war with people capable of pulling the same feats he had witnessed from Darshan. The man could conjure a flame like it was nothing, and brush aside full-grown men as if they were no more than leaves in the breeze. Battling an army of spellsters would be impossible without releasing every single one of those in the cloisters. He knew from his younger sister that Tirglasian spellsters were only trained in healing, none of them would be prepared to use their abilities for violence.
He stepped out into the courtyard.
Something heavy careened into him. He staggered along with them. Familiar hands grasped his shoulders, aiding in keeping them upright. When they’d both stopped, he found himself staring straight at his brother’s grinning mug.
Movement over the man’s shoulder drew his eye. His nephews. All three sullenly carried their bows and not a single one seemed any more pleased to see him. Less, in fact. Mac had a particularly sour look on his face.
“Did something bad happen?” He could well imagine the two older boys being a little too quick to show off without factoring in their brother’s current limitations.
“You could say that,” Gordon replied. “You missed the lads’ hunting practice.”
“I… did?” He’d never missed a chance to hone his niece and nephews’ hunting skills. He could’ve sworn it was tomorrow, though.
“Aye,” Bruce chipped in, his already squared jaw jutting out further.
“You promised to be the prey,” Mac added.
Hamish dropped to a knee before the trio. “I’m sorry, lads. How about I make it up to you tomorrow?” He cast a
