He choked down the ire battling to leap from his tongue. Getting himself banished would do no one any good. “I would have to convene with the council that the percentages are indeed agreeable on their part, but yes.”
“Very well, then. I accept your terms.”
At the queen’s side, Nora shuffled on the spot, clearly uncomfortable. As she should be, given the harshness of some terms he had declared in a childish fit. “Mum, they’re nae in our favour. If we could just—”
Queen Fiona waved her daughter into silence. “I said I accept and that is me final word on the subject.”
Darshan cleared his throat, garnering the queen’s attention. “If our lands are to be allies,” he drawled. If he was ever going to get a moment to discuss this, then now seemed as good as any. “Then sending an ambassador to Minamist would be a prudent move.”
She remained silent. No hint of suspicion or anger lurking in that cool, blue gaze. If anything, she seemed to almost be in agreement with the idea.
He breathed deeply and, in a rush, added, “I would recommend that person be your second son.”
“That is nae possible.” The words fell like shards of ice. No hint of her previous outrage with him showed anywhere on her face.
“Pardon me, your majesty, but I ask you to reconsider. Whilst I cannot claim to know the mind of my father’s court down to the smallest quibble, I do know they would listen more to someone of noble blood better than the keenest, but ultimately common, member of your clan.” It was a terrible truth and he hated it, but if it worked in Hamish’s favour…
There was the flicker of the rage he had expected from her. It burned coolly across those blue eyes, but no deeper. “The answer is still nae. Me son stays right here.”
“Hamish is the more viable option of the three. I would have suggested your daughter first, if it were not for her children.” He indicated Nora with a wave of his hand and the woman straightened, surprise lighting her face. “Seeing your younger son has none, I thought it would be—”
“—easier to throw him into your bed?” Queen Fiona snarled. “I ken exactly what you’re after. The royal line does nae venture so far from its roots and his lack of wife or bairn is a temporary phase, nae a constant.”
He had tried pushing harder only to have her refuse to even acknowledge the matter, much less speak on it. What was wrong with the woman? Did she not understand that her son would be infinitely happier without her judgement breathing down his neck?
What had she meant by temporary phase, anyway? He hadn’t missed Nora’s sudden uncertainty at such a declaration, fleeting though the expression had been. Hamish had already regaled him about Queen Fiona’s incessant insistence when it came to marriage and siring children, but she had been hounding the man since his mid-teens.
According to Hamish, she had even planned on arranging a marriage between him and Countess Harini, the ambassador who was supposed to have been here to negotiate the trade deals. As if any Udynean noble would settle for anything less than the heir to a throne, especially when a marked lack of a magical bloodline was involved.
So why would Queen Fiona believe her son would change his stance decades later? It made no sense.
Maybe it was nothing, maybe Darshan had spent too many years around those who did nothing except conspire against him, but her words smelt of a plan that wouldn’t bode well for Hamish. I have to speak with him. If this was back in the imperial palace, his first step would be to send Daama out amongst the servants and slaves, for most of the nobility had a habit of forgetting those under them still had ears and mouths. If only doing that here was an option. As grossly optimistic as it was, perhaps together they could reach another means of convincing Queen Fiona.
He had taken several steps into the library before the marked lack of light grabbed his attention.
Darshan slowly swivelled on his heel. The prickling of a shield not yet formed hummed around him, ready to appear at a moment’s notice.
The room was a mass of looming shadows, bookshelves illuminated only by the reedy light peeking through the window. The stack of books he had left on the table was relatively undisturbed, save for a few that Nora had brought in.
No sign of Hamish.
Grumbling under his breath, he let the magic fade. He didn’t expect to be ambushed in such a place—unlike back home where quite a few of his half-sisters would rejoice in seeing an end to his life—but that was no reason to become complacent. He had no way of knowing if one of the family’s rivals had sent an assassin to these frigid lands and he would rather not find out via way of a dagger to the heart.
He lingered by the table, running a hand over the spine of the top-most book in the stack. Where Nora had dug them up from, he’d no idea. A few of the slimmer tomes appeared to be missing. Taken by Hamish or another? Thankfully, the man appeared to have taken the box containing Darshan’s toy.
Nothing he had found within the books here gave him a way to free Hamish from this place, but maybe an answer lurked in this pile. Or perhaps they’d hold only more dead ends and empty promises.
Humming an old song to himself, he relit the lantern and opened the topmost book. A skim of the pages revealed the usual laws of his homeland with both Udynean and Tirglasian translations. Serviceable for someone
