“We’ll be the judge of that.” In one smooth motion, the guard ordered the other two, who immediately began checking the obvious places Darshan had already ruled out as effective hiding spots.
The pressure in his temple throbbed that little bit harder. Was Hamish moving? He didn’t think his lover could hear the guards through the shield’s density. “As you can see, I was quite alone before you arrived.” A lancing pain hit the left side of his brain. Darshan grimaced and cocked his head slightly. It alleviated the pressure, but not by much. Stay still. He needed the guards to leave now. “I am afraid I cannot be of any more help,” he muttered between clenched teeth.
The head guard looked him over, seeming to finally notice Darshan’s lack of clothing. “I find it suspicious that you’re alone, naked and with a stiff one.”
Feeling a little self-conscious, Darshan adjusted the cushion. How could he have missed himself growing hard? How completely inappropriate. Still, apart from the gnawing pain in his head, he couldn’t deny that this was quite exhilarating. Being caught with men back in Udynea hadn’t the same thrill behind it and never had he needed to hide a lover before.
He straightened, tipping his chin up and glared down his nose at the guard. It was a look he had perfected from his years in the Crystal Court and served him well back home. “Do you see me querying your night-time activities?”
The man sneered.
Behind the guard, Darshan caught one of the others flinging open the curtains. His heart skipped. The pressure in his head deepened like a chisel tapping deeper into marble. All it would take was for the man to open the window and look to his left.
Mercifully, the guard turned back around. “There’s nae another soul here, sir.”
“As I told you,” Darshan snapped. “If you could now leave me to my slumber?”
The head guard nodded, his thin lips pressing together until they were but a line peeking out from beneath his beard. “That you did, your imperial highness.” He bowed. “Our apologies for disturbing your sleep.”
Darshan bit his cheek with the effort to remain silent. He hadn’t imagined the faint pause in the guard’s speech that suggested the man didn’t believe Darshan had slept a wink. And the bastard had actually been hoping to catch Hamish here.
If he didn’t have the vicious pounding in his head as a constant reminder that a life hung on his abilities, one of these men would certainly not be casually strolling off out the door.
Shadowing the guards’ movements, he slammed the door on their backs the instant he was able to and deftly locked the smug bastards out.
He held his breath, counting to ten before hastening to open the window. Poking his head outside confirmed Hamish still stood flat against the brickwork.
His lover flinched as Darshan moved the shield. He could’ve lifted only the man, but directly hefting people with magic was a little different to the average rock or piece of decor. Inanimate objects tended not to protest if squeezed that little bit too hard, nor did they wriggle about in transit. This high, one ill-timed twitch could mean death.
The shield’s faint purple sheen flickered. Darshan’s heart stuttered. No.
Almost before he could finish the thought, the shield reformed to encapsulate Hamish once again. Darshan draped himself over the windowsill, half in an attempt to reach his lover and partly due to his wobbling legs.
The shield might’ve reappeared in the same spot, but Hamish had dropped at least a few feet in that time and now his legs, from the knees down, dangled in the air. Fortunately, the shield had returned not as dense or the man would’ve lost the lower half of those very limbs.
Squirming along the windowsill to get as close as he could manage, Darshan held out his hand. The shield buzzed along his forearm. He could no longer risk moving or altering the barrier lest it vanished again. They mightn’t be so fortunate a second time.
“Take it!” Darshan ordered, his voice all but lost to the wind. There was a risk in Hamish’s shifting weight causing the shield to fail, but that couldn’t be helped.
His lover lurched for Darshan’s hand, those rough fingers closing around his forearm. Unadulterated terror filled Hamish’s eyes. He flailed with the other hand, searching for something to grasp.
Darshan strained to reach him. Their fingertips touched. Just… a little… more… No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get any nearer.
There was nothing for it. He would have to pull Hamish closer and hope the shield held.
Holding his breath, Darshan gave the most minuscule of tugs. Maybe if he did it slowly enough…
The shield sputtered and died.
All of his lover’s weight hit Darshan’s arm at once. Lancing, searing, pain tore a scream from his throat. Hamish dangled below the window. Only his grip on Darshan’s forearm and the desperate way he clung to the edge of the windowsill kept him from falling.
Fire and daggers burrowed into Darshan’s shoulder. Magic flooded his body, seeking to heal the damage. He tried to haul the man up to no avail. His feet slid across the floor, finding no purchase in the old wood, then abandoned it altogether. If he didn’t haul Hamish to safety or let the man go, they would both wind up falling to their deaths.
Darshan struggled to focus, to redirect his magic’s involuntary persevering stance on healing him. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping onto his glasses. Blinking furiously, he tightened his hold on Hamish’s forearm. Letting his lover die because he couldn’t see was not an option.
A surge of strength poured into
