He rubbed his arms, his thoughts idly turning to the bed he had abandoned what seemed like a lifetime before. He could easily leave the stables to slip beneath the blankets, content and warm. No one would stop him if he chose to stay.
On the other hand, returning to bed wouldn’t grant him a fortnight of reprieve from looking over his shoulder every time he dared to be that little bit too friendly with Darshan.
Providing the spellster actually showed his face.
Hamish glanced up from tightening his mare’s girth to eye the stable doors. Still no sign of his lover. Gordon confessed to waking the spellster, so it couldn’t be a case of Darshan not knowing when they were leaving.
Had he chosen to stay? Hamish wouldn’t blame the man, not after his mother’s prying on where the aquamarine ring had come from. Thank the Goddess that Gordon had the brains to lay claim to the purchase or they’d never be allowed in the same building as each other.
“Staring at the door willnae make him appear.”
His gaze slid to his brother, heat pricking his cheeks and amplifying the chill air. “Can we nae wait a wee bit longer?” Given that his niece’s pony, Warrior, was geared and ready, it wouldn’t take much out of their time to lash a few of Darshan’s effects to the rest of their belongings and be on their way.
Gordon’s mouth skewed to one side, his lips thinning. “If he’s nae coming—”
“Maybe he got held up,” Hamish blurted. He wrung his hands and toyed with the ring, twisting it one way, then another. “Or overslept.” After last night’s exertion, he wouldn’t be surprised. They might not be able to wait for hours, but a moment longer was doable.
Gordon scoffed. “Or maybe he’s a soft lout who’d prefer to sleep the morning away than set out on a fortnight long journey.”
“Well now,” purred a familiar voice. “I do believe my ears are burning.”
Hamish ducked beneath his mare’s neck to find Darshan leaning in the doorway with a small, leather pack slung over his shoulder. “I take it that you’re joining us, then?”
“Indeed.” He sauntered into the stables, his gaze casually taking in the mounts and people with equal interest. He zeroed in on Warrior and lashed his pack beside the other supplies already attached to the gelding’s saddle. “Do forgive my tardiness. One of the servants had to track down a spare pack for my things.”
“Did you nae already have one?” Hamish couldn’t imagine travelling anywhere without a place to store his belongings. But now he gave it some attention, the bag seemed a little worn. Possibly one that had been stored in a corner somewhere for a long time.
Darshan shook his head. “I did not exactly expect to travel during my time here. Not on a fortnight-long excursion to a cloister, at any rate. Could have insisted we bring my travel chest along for the journey, but I anticipated we would not be taking a cart with us.” Again, he took in the stable’s interior, seemingly vindicating his choice. “And I am not that much of a prick to suggest otherwise.”
“Just a wee bit of one, then?” Gordon shot back, grinning.
The spellster smiled up at him. It was the smile of winter wolves surrounding prey. “That depends entirely on my motivation. Those who cause me too much bother quickly find out just how much of a nuisance I can be.”
“Nae doubt,” Gordon murmured before clearing his throat. He lifted his head and in a far louder voice said, “Right lads, mount up. Let’s see if we cannae get some distance under us before the sun’s fully up. I’d like to reach Old Willie’s by tomorrow morning.”
Hamish climbed into his saddle, waiting for Darshan to do the same before they exited the stables.
“What is at Old Willie’s?” Darshan asked, leaning over in the saddle to practically whisper in Hamish’s ear.
“It’s a small farming community,” he replied before the combined racket of their horses on the cobbles blanked out any chance of talking further. “Gordon prefers to supplement our provisions whenever we can. He typically purchases whatever they can spare from their stock.”
“And they will have enough?”
Hamish shrugged. “Always seem to.” They had made the journey to the cloister often enough that he wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear the folks at Old Willie’s Farm deliberately kept a certain amount of provisions back expressly for their party to purchase. The people probably got more for it at home than selling at market, too. His brother tended to err on the generous side when it came to payment.
They approached the gates with Gordon at the head and the three guards bringing up the rear. The guards manning the gates saluted as they passed.
Free of the castle confines, they settled into an easy trot down the road leading to the city, their way lit by the last vestiges of lanterns staggered along the winding path. Their pace would slow once they reached the forest road and the surface became less predictable, but for now, he was content to let his mare have her say as to the speed in which they travelled.
They had left the city far behind by the time the sun had fully crested the horizon. Hamish tipped his head back, letting his mare plod with the group whilst he basked in the quiet. Few people shared the road, enabling them to spread out along its breadth for a short while. Warbling coos picked up with the light; male grouse calling for a mate.
The lofty trees flanking
