He waited patiently for the man’s brain to catch up with his ears. He’d heard from the other ambassadors that the Tirglasian accent made it difficult for some foreigners to understand, that certain inflections took a while to grasp.
Then, Darshan blinked and a soft redness touched his olive-brown cheeks. His gaze flicked to Hamish’s outstretched hand, which Hamish only now realised still showed traces of pig blood. The man’s gaze shifted, clearly taking in Hamish’s blood-stained attire.
Grinning sheepishly, Hamish wiped his palm clean on the side of his trousers and offered his hand again.
The ambassador slowly accepted the gesture, the rings adorning his fingers glittering in the noon light.
Hamish couldn’t help noticing how the man’s slim fingers lacked anything in the way of calluses. Not a warrior, then. Not in the traditional sense, at least. Udynean nobles were strong spellsters and a prince would certainly be one of the more powerful.
“H-hello,” the man mumbled, his tongue barely able to utter the greeting. “Uh…”
“Hamish,” he offered, giving the man’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
The man cleared his throat, his face growing redder. He ducked his head, the soft curls of his dark brown hair bobbed. “Darshan.” The word came out soft and crisp.
“So I’ve heard.” Still, it was nice to hear the name spoken by its owner and not mangled by his father.
Another faint blush took the man’s cheeks. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highness.” He spoke Tirglasian quite smoothly, with the influence of his tutors lingering in the slight rolling tones. There was the hint of a musical note in the words that suggested his natural voice wasn’t used to being quite this harsh.
Hamish straightened and slowly released his grip on Darshan’s hand. “I do apologise for me absence. I was told your ship wouldnae get in before the afternoon.”
“Yes,” his mother interjected, coolly slipping between them. She glanced his way, the icy depths of her blue eyes flashing their customary warning whenever he was near a man of unknown background. “We were all taken aback by the unexpected fair winds that rocked the harbour this early morning.”
“I am no sailor,” Darshan admitted as if it weren’t completely obvious that his perfectly-manicured hands had never held anything rougher than silk. “But the winds did seem to favour us towards the end.” The longer he talked, the less stilted his accent became. Each word gained a rich, velvety tone and a softness that had Hamish’s mind briefly meandering into forbidden depths.
It wasn’t until Darshan cleared his throat a little louder than necessary that Hamish realised the man had still been talking. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long day, you ken? You were saying?”
Brief panic flickered across the man’s face before his expression turned neutral, although his gaze darted all over the place. “I… believe I understood that, yes. I merely mentioned that—”
“How oddly the sailors reacted,” his mother interjected, her brow furrowing as she eyed Hamish. “Dinnae blame them. In all me life, I’ve never seen the winds shift eastward for another month or so.” She placed a hand on the ambassador’s back, turning him. “Come, your imperial highness. You must be weary after such a long journey. I’ll have one of the servants escort you to the guest quarters.”
Darshan eyed the castle with barely-concealed dismay. Had he been expecting it to look different? Or was he not yet ready to settle? If Hamish ever found himself in a foreign land, sleep would’ve been the last thing on his mind.
“Why doesnae Hamish show him the way?” Gordon suggested. “Since he missed the ambassador’s arrival.”
Hamish fixed his brother with a very pointed stare. What was he thinking? Their mother would never allow him to be alone with Darshan without her believing he was bending over for the man. He didn’t want to be responsible for another ambassador’s swift banishment. Especially when they were also a Udynean prince.
Their mother’s head whipped around, causing the end of one honey blonde braid to slap her shoulder. She glared daggers at Gordon, who smiled innocently back. It was a facade that Hamish envied at times. Being the eldest, his brother got away with more than he felt was fair at times.
It didn’t help matters that Gordon would use that leeway to needle Hamish and had done constantly ever since his brother found him kissing one of the stable boys back when he was a lad. Thankfully, Gordon always stopped short of outright suggesting anything that couldn’t be innocently construed.
The ambassador continued to stare at the castle, oblivious to the silent berating going on in his midst. Hamish took the man’s preoccupation as an opportunity to re-evaluate him.
If Darshan had been a Tirglasian, his attire would’ve been considered a frivolous waste, but the rumours of Udynea suggested they’d plenty of a great many things. It likely hadn’t occurred to him, although there was a spark of cunning in his eyes that hinted at more. Especially in the way the man’s stare didn’t settle on one spot. That muddy-brown gaze roved across the castle walls, followed several of the servants and guards, and flicked towards the stables before sliding to the front gate. Calculating.
Hamish just wished he knew if the man was looking for weaknesses to relay in an attack or searching for a way out should his mother renege on the man’s protection. Unlike Udynea, Tirglasian spellsters were sent off to spend their days in cloisters, their healing talents called upon only in times of dire need.
Trying not to startle a man that was likely capable of spewing fire, Hamish nudged the ambassador’s shoulder. Attention got, he jerked his head towards the castle door. “Come on, it willnae take long to show you the way, then you can get back to staring at
