Rubbing at his cheeks with a hand, he gave the room a more in-depth look. The window was at his back, throwing his shadow over an open fireplace set into the opposite wall. A stack of wood had been piled nearby. That looked freshly done. No doubt in preparation for his arrival. Or Countess Harini’s, at least. Either way, he wouldn’t be expected to freeze.
He had also missed the full-length dressing mirror upon his initial perusal and the sight did gladden him somewhat. Still… had this been home, the walls wouldn’t have been able to breathe for tapestries, murals and paintings. There would’ve been tables and seats aplenty as well as an entire room for his clothes to hang. And, whilst this window at least had curtains, the imperial palace would have made a show of using the richest, gauziest fabric a man could make rather than what looked to be the remnants of a blanket.
This is going to be a long month. A blustery sigh bubbled against his hand.
Some ambassador he was. He had barely set foot on foreign soil and, already, the call to return home ran strongly through his blood. It wasn’t just the luxuries of the palace he had left behind. The very air seemed off. Wet in the wrong way. Home could be humid more often than not, but this was the kind of damp that clung to stone and promised rain.
He had already spent several wretched months aboard the blasted rocking coffin they dared to call a ship—crewed entirely by women at his father’s request. His stomach still hadn’t quite settled from that journey, but he would gladly suffer it twofold for a chance to leave Tirglas sooner.
And he could, in all likelihood, get the trade agreements sorted within a few weeks, but that would vastly depend on Queen Fiona’s willingness to accept the starting terms his father had laid out for him to offer. And that was unlikely.
Grumbling under his breath, Darshan hauled himself to his feet. If he was going to leave this wretched place swiftly, then giving the docks and markets a more thorough look would be a good place to start.
He dug into his travel chest and hauled out the plainest sherwani he’d brought. The silk was creased from its time folded into a neat parcel. Wonderful. He somehow doubted the local servants knew how to treat such fabric. What passed for royalty here certainly didn’t dress all that extravagantly.
It took little effort to switch out one top half for another. The tiny, diamond-studded buttons parted as he wove his magic through them in a manoeuvre he had long since perfected. He shrugged out of the sleeves and tossed the sherwani atop the bed. The muted chill in the air nibbled at his skin through his undershirt.
He checked himself in the mirror as he fastened the plainer top’s silver buttons, seeing his outfit properly perhaps for the first time. The cut wasn’t too outlandish for the area; almost tunic-like simple without the heavy embellishment of thick embroidery and gems. Even without that, the shimmering white fabric would have him standing out like a black snake in the sand. If he’d been planning to stay for longer than a few weeks, he would’ve sought something closer to the native attire. As things stood, there was little point.
Garbed, he ventured out into the corridors. Finding his way down to the courtyard took far longer than he would dare admit to anyone, even after asking for the way… thrice. His every move seemed to be watched by someone, be they servants or animals—never before had he encountered dogs almost as big as himself.
The courtyard was no longer as full as it’d been upon his arrival. The horses the royal family had ridden all appeared to have been stabled. Of Hamish, there was no sign.
Darshan briefly considered that the man had gone looking for him, or had perhaps given up on waiting for his arrival, before venturing into the stables. Whilst Mullhind was the biggest city in Tirglas, it might as well have been a village in comparison to Udynean towns. He didn’t believe he’d get easily lost, so if he couldn’t get a guided tour, then a solitary one would have to do.
That, of course, depended on whether he could borrow one of the horses.
He poked his head around the open door. Rows of occupied stalls filled the building. His ears were greeted by the gentle sounds of animals eating and the heavy shuffling of hooves.
It seemed rather quiet for a castle stable. He had barely been near the palace stables, and even then only as a boy, but it was always bustling with stable hands attending to the tack or the horses. Here, there was no one.
One of the nearby horses, a heavy black and white beast of a thing, nickered at him with the curiously hopeful note of imminent food. He had travelled to the castle via cart, a simple one that likely served to carry sacks and barrels most of the time. It had been pulled by a massive beast such as this.
Darshan stepped into the building to give the place a more in-depth look. He couldn’t even spy a single soul checking a hoof or leg for soundness. Odd. Had he somehow managed to arrive whilst everyone was on break?
The black and white horse stretched out its neck and lipped at his hand, sniffing at his clothes in heavy blasts of hot breath.
Chuckling, he gently rubbed the pink muzzle. “Sorry, greedy one. I have no treats on me.”
A faint grunt came from the other end of the stalls.
“Hello?” His call echoed.
“Darshan?” Hamish’s grinning visage appeared from the far stall. “I thought you were nae
