Darshan halted at a store bearing the familiar sign of a solitaire ring. A jeweller’s store? He poked his head inside. He didn’t often get the chance to peruse the ones back home. All the good jewellers were under house commission for this or that noble and the rest generally weren’t worth bothering over for more than gaudy trinkets.
A man stood at the counter, buffing the dark wood. He glanced up as they entered and resumed his task.
It was a small room, barely big enough to squeeze the five of them in. The counter stretched across one end. Displays sat nested into the wall behind it. Silver and gold, bearing gemstones of every imaginable colour, glittered back at him from behind thick glass.
“All right,” Hamish grumbled. “I’ll bite. What are we doing here?”
Darshan hastened to shush his lover with the flap of a hand. His gaze fastened on an array of silver rings in a box propped up just enough to lure the curious customer. One fat ring sat proudly in the middle, its light blue colour almost lost against the silver backing. “May I?” he enquired, pointing at the box. “The blue one.”
At his back, Hamish issued a faint groan.
Nevertheless, the jeweller looked over him, no doubt taking in the gold thread embroidery and gems of Darshan’s attire, before producing a set of keys and unlocking the cabinet. It took all of a few moments for the man to fish out the ring and lock the rest away. “This is a good one,” he rasped, each word sounding as if it had to escape a grinding before being spoken. “Carved each line with me own hand.” He shook out a cloth from his belt and laid it onto the counter.
The ring’s diameter was quite large. Far bigger than Darshan’s thumb, at any rate. The design that curved down the side was one of leaves and vines, so detailed that he almost believed they’d move in the gust of his breath. Sitting proudly on the top was a sparkling, oval-cut aquamarine gemstone, its colour the crystal shade of blue that reminded him of the tropical ocean waves of home… and a certain man’s eyes.
Darshan went to pick up the ring only to have the jeweller’s hands slam down either side of the cloth—one hand, at least, the other appeared to stop at the wrist.
The jeweller glared at him, his shoulders seeming to triple in size. “You dinnae touch unless you got the gold to buy.”
Wordlessly, Darshan placed the pouch of coins on the bench. The neck opened, the warm glow of the lanterns reflecting off the gold.
The man plucked one of the coins from the pouch and examined it with a wary eye. Whatever he searched for, the gold seemed to almost disappoint him. Grunting, he waved his arm at Darshan in an offer for him to inspect the ring.
He snatched up the ring, holding it so that the candlelight glittered off the gem. “Gorgeous.” He swung back to Hamish and held the piece up beside the man’s face. “A perfect match. You simply must get it.”
Hamish huffed and rolled his eyes. “And it’s a sapphire, nae doubt.”
“Nae at all, your lordship,” the jeweller blurted, the deep-set wrinkles on his pallid forehead lifting in alarm. “That there is the finest aquamarine. I had it imported all the way from Udynea.”
Darshan smiled. He had thought as much. Aditi, his youngest half-sister at ten years of age, had once commissioned a hair comb incorporating a vast array of aquamarine stones. Although, none of them could compare to this blue beauty. “You should buy it,” he murmured to Hamish.
His lover looked from the ring to Darshan and back. “I dinnae believe me allowance would be enough for such a bauble.”
“Allowance?” He scoffed. “You are not a child. Why are you still stuck on an allowance?” Darshan hadn’t been able to count his years in double digits the last time he had been restricted in such a fashion. Yes, he had private coffers—all his unmarried siblings did—but even that held a sizable amount.
Hamish opened his mouth.
Darshan waved his hand, stalling him. “No, no. Do not say another word, something tells me the reason will only serve to upset me and it is too nice a day for that.” He rummaged through his coin purse and tossed a handful of gold on the counter. “That should be adequate.”
With the jeweller’s mouth still gaping soundlessly, his eyes bulging enough that they might very well pop, Darshan grabbed his lover’s left hand and went to thread the ring onto Hamish’s middle finger.
His lover gently shrank out of Darshan’s grasp. Hamish remained silent, the faint darkening of his cheeks the only clue as to his discomfort.
“Is something wrong?” Did people not buy each other gifts? That seemed unlikely. Or was it the type of gift? Clearly men wore jewellery or there wouldn’t be such a demand for a ring so large.
A small tug at his sleeve drew his attention to Ethan. “That’s the wedding finger,” the boy whispered, cupping a hand over his mouth as if revealing a great secret.
“Oh?” Heat took over his face. Why hadn’t he considered that? He glanced at the jeweller to find the man still fussing over his payment. “Forgive me, I did not know. Back home, it is the one next to the little finger on the right hand.” Instead of trying to guess what was acceptable, he placed the ring firmly in his lover’s open palm, much to Hamish’s obvious consternation.
“Is that why you’ve nae rings on that one?” Mac asked, holding up Darshan’s right hand as if he had forgotten what his own fingers looked like. Surrounded with an abundance of gold, silver and gems, the third digit was conspicuously naked.
“Sort of.” How could he
