To Target the Heart

by Aldrea Alien

  “You are not a—” Darshan’s voice cracked. The inhalation he gave was tearful as was the blustery sigh that followed. “Any application of magic would be fruitless; there is nothing to fix. You are no more broken than I.”

  “Tell that to me mum.”

  “I would, if I honestly believed she would hear me. But…”

  Scoffing, Hamish turned his attention the tree beyond where the bear lay. They were fortunate that Darshan’s attack on the poor creature hadn’t started a forest fire. “Me mum hears nae one but herself.” Echoes of his brother’s lamenting drifted up from the depths of his memory. “She keeps her own council and decides the kingdom’s direction on a whim.”

  “Dangerous, that. Listening only to yourself.”

  “So you see why this—” He gestured between them with a chest-level flutter of his hand. “—cannae happen?” Not a damn thing between them. No matter how much he wanted it. “You were wrong. Every thought you had about having me in Minamist is wrong.” He shook his head. “It’s all wrong.”

  Darshan’s gaze slid to the ground between them as he chewed on his lip. “If you thought us being together was wrong, then why persist? I told you that, if you did not wish to pursue anything, you only had to stay away. I would have understood your decision.”

  Dread bubbled in his stomach. “I remember.”

  “But you came to my quarters and agreed to continue on afterwards. Why?”

  So many reasons. Because he’d been enchanted by the thought that he was still desirable, that thirteen years hadn’t changed his ability to pleasure a man to completion, that maybe just the once he could be himself from the start. If he’d been in his right mind, he would’ve refused the offer, but he had always had a weakness for the intelligent, witty and handsome types.

  But mostly, his actions had been fuelled by one fact.

  “I did it because I wanted you.” That was the reality, plain and simple. Ever since Darshan had kissed him in The Fisherman’s Cask, then promised more within Hamish’s own room, his loins had taken control of his senses. And he was glad for it.

  “Then why—?”

  “That doesnae matter anymore. Goading that bear was the only choice I had and you took it away. They would’ve been able to mourn me then move on.” Just like they’d done with his siblings’ spouses and their children. “Nae one’ll miss me.”

  “What absolute nonsense,” Darshan’s reply carried little in the way of emotion, no heat, no pity. Just as if he’d stated a fact. “You think your mark on the world could be erased so easily? You are their brother, their uncle, their son. And even if what you say is true with them, there is still me.”

  “Is there really? You get to leave. You go home and I’m stuck here living the same life I was before you came.” He shook his head, mirthless laughter huffing between his teeth. “Except it willnae be the same. It cannae be anymore. I’ll be forced into a marriage I dinnae want.”

  “Marriage? Who to?”

  Hamish shrugged and rubbed at his nose. “To whoever wins the contest of arms me mum’s arranged.”

  “A contest?” Disdain warped Darshan’s lips and wrinkled his nose. “She would see you handed off like a prize to the victor? This was what brought you to me yesterday? What brought you here?”

  Hamish nodded.

  “So run. We could find the horses and flee to the Udynean border. They cannot marry you off if you are not here.”

  “Find the—?” He twisted around to eye where their mounts had been tethered. Gone. The earth was churned, the surrounding foliage was either broken or shredded. The horses had fled in terror. “Even if we could find them.” Unlikely, given that the horses were probably back at the castle. That would definitely rouse a search party. “I cannae leave. The answering clans are on their way, some have already arrived. If I’m nae here to be married off, then they could turn on me mum. Me whole family. Me wants are nae worth risking a civil war over.”

  Darshan nodded slowly. Perhaps he finally understood the predicament Hamish was in. “Do the other clans know you are not exactly… open to sleeping with a woman?”

  He shook his head harder as if that would somehow make things clearer to the man. “Nae a soul.” His mother would’ve seen any hint of such knowledge discredited. “If I told them…”

  “Let me guess, that would also spark a civil war?”

  “Aye. Me niece… me nephews…” He dug his fingers into his hair. “They’re all so young, I cannae just toss their lives on the pyre.” That was the fate that awaited traitors and false rulers. No burying amongst the wilderness, no chance for the soul to return to the Goddess’ bosom. “All because I dinnae want to be with a woman.”

  Darshan’s shoulders sagged. “No, I suppose that would be a bit much to expect of you.” He rubbed at his temples, sunlight glittering off his rings. His gaze snapped up to Hamish, those hazel eyes surprisingly sharp. “But what about your life? Do you really think they care so little that they would rather you live a lie for their sake?”

  Live a lie. His blood went cold at the very thought. It wasn’t just the marriage he would have to go along with. He’d have to sire a child, learn to be someone he had never been, someone he had never wanted to be. But the alternative…

  “Surely, if you explained the situation to the victor, she could be persuaded to—”

  Laughing, Hamish buried his head into his hand. “To what? Be married to a man who has nae intentions of lying with her. You dinnae ken much about our marriage customs, do you?”

  “I did not exactly come here to marry a Tirglasian, so of course not.”

  “Once we marry, a child is expected within the next two years. Nae child and the marriage is void. Whoever wins isnae going to be satisfied with a few years. If a child doesnae happen because I refuse to sleep with… me wife.” A sour taste tinged his tongue as he spoke. Hamish suppressed a shudder and continued, “Then her clan has every right to attack.”

  “So you choose to throw yourself before a bear to escape all that? Death cannot be your only recourse. You could run without them knowing you live. What stops your brother saying you were mauled to death?”

  If only it were so easy. His siblings had considered it in the past, after the incident with the dwarven ambassador. “The clans would demand to see a body.” One with his brown skin and orange-red hair for starters. Factor in his height and build, neither one a bit modest, and it would be nigh impossible for him to fake his death with another in his place.

  Darshan glanced over his shoulder. “Even then…” he whispered, the words fading as if he couldn’t bear to think them let alone utter.

  There are easier ways. He could’ve thrown himself from a tower or off a wall and over the cliff, but those ways would’ve brought suspicion to his family. His mother would’ve covered it up, as she always did when he acted in any way outside what she deemed appropriate. But her methods often ended with some poor soul dying for a crime they didn’t commit. He’d no interest in dragging anyone else down with him.

  “This was me only option. Death, a good clean death, would give me mum an honourable way to end the competition.” Hamish hugged himself, rubbing the chill from his arms. He didn’t want to die, but… “It was the only way I could be free.”

  Darshan snarled a few words under his breath. They didn’t sound like any Udynean the man had taught Hamish, but he could guess they were curses. He spat plenty more into the surrounding forest and some in Hamish’s direction.

  “Dinnae be yelling at me in languages I cannae understand,” he shot back.

  “There is no freedom in death. Just darkness.” In a burst of strength, Darshan all but launched himself across the space between them. He grabbed Hamish’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the torn cloth as his weight dragged them closer to the ground. “Dying is never the honourable option. There must be another way out. I will not accept that it is a choice between that and death. I most certainly will not allow you to just… throw your life a
way.”

  Hamish folded his arms and stared incredulously at the man. “You willnae allow it?”

  A flush of colour came to Darshan’s cheeks. “I have grown rather fond of your presence. You being dead would put quite the damper on our friendship. And a rather poor friend I would be if I left you to this fate.” He sat back, combing and ruffling his hair with one hand. “Give me a few days, a week at most. Let me talk to your mother, maybe I can…”

  Hamish shook his head. A week would be too late. “She kens about us. It might nae be the original reason she’s pushing for this stupid contest, but it’s likely why she’ll nae back down.”

  “Really? Then I think you are wrong in me not being at fault. It would seem that it is entirely my doing. If we—” Darshan frowned. “If I had controlled myself more and not pursued you, willing though you were, then this…” He hung his head, curls of dark brown hair falling to obscure his face. “I am sorry. I never meant—”

  “Nae. She’s been sniffing for a reason to do this. It was bound to happen eventually. If it hadnae been you, then something else would’ve seen her force me hand. I just ken what I’m losing now.”

  “I refuse to believe this is it.”

  “There’s nae avoiding the union contest. It’s designed to have nae way out.” That was its purpose, to herd uncertain or indecisive men and women towards marriage.

  “Except a violent, bloody death?” There was something mournful and dark lurking in those hazel eyes as Darshan peeked up from beneath his hair.

  Goddess, forgive me. He had given no thought towards what witnessing would do to the man. How much had he seen of the bear’s attack? All of it? What would his reaction have been had their positions been swapped?

  Fresh tears rolled down his face. “You should nae have woken up when you did. You were nae meant to until… after.”

  Darshan laid a hand on Hamish’s knee. “I am here for you, mea lux, in whatever capacity you may need me for. But if you think I am willing to stand by whilst you throw your life away, then I think you do not know me at all.”

  “I thought it would be quick,” he mumbled. More the fool am I. He laid a hand on his chest. The scars would fade, eventually. How long it would take for the image of those teeth and claws to leave his nightmares was another matter.

  Nothing but forward now. He couldn’t stop the union contest. The only hope he had of being rid of this nightmare was to ride through it and find a means to escape being forced to live a lie after the victor had been decided. For now…

  “We should head back.” The guards would come for them sooner or later. He would prefer not being in this place when they did. Telling anyone the truth would only serve to restrict his movements further. He’d no desire to spend the better part of two weeks confined to his quarters like a disobedient child.

  They limped through the forest, aiming for the castle. It took some time to reach the road they had left behind yesterday afternoon. What had been a short distance on horseback was painfully longer on their own unsteady legs.

  Unlike Hamish, who walked with the purposeful shuffle of the weary, Darshan could barely lift his feet. His passage through the undergrowth involved quite a bit of stumbling over tree roots, grass and even his own feet.

  His stomach grumbled endlessly as they trudged. His body cried out for rest, for deep uninterrupted slumber. He fought the pull with every inch of his remaining strength. It would’ve been dangerous to heed such a call in the confines of the Minamist Palace. Out here, such a choice would be lethal.

  His feet stumbled over yet another imaginary bump in the earth. He pitched forward, halted only by Hamish’s steadying hands. Whatever life-force Darshan had poured into his lover, the man certainly had more energy than himself.

  “You’re ice-cold,” Hamish murmured, hoisting Darshan’s arm over his shoulders and continuing to walk resolutely through the forest. “You sure you dinnae want to stop for a bit? I could get a fire going.”

  Darshan shook his head. Even that small amount of movement taxed him. What he needed most was nourishment, something to replace what his magic had consumed to take the risk he had made. The measly scraps of last night’s meal hadn’t been near enough to fill his stomach never mind replace what he’d lost in healing. Hunting for more was out of the question, what with Hamish’s snapped bowstring.

  Only the castle could provide the amount that Darshan would require. Preferably in meat.

  Hamish grunted. “We’ll make better time once we reach the road. We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.” True to his word, the undergrowth parted to reveal the stretch of mud and gravel that made up the road they had ridden down yesterday. Hamish halted as they finally breached the forest. He stood on the roadside, his attention trained on something coming up the path.

  The shadowy bulk swiftly turned into a retinue of mounted guards with Gordon at the lead.

  Darshan’s legs sagged at the sight, relief further sapping the little strength he clung to. Had the horses reached the castle so soon? Or had Gordon planned on heading a search for them anyway?

  Either way, there appeared to be two spare mounts. At least they wouldn’t be forced to walk or leave some of the guards behind.

  Gordon’s horse slid to a halt before them. “Thank the Goddess you two are all right. Your horses arrived at the gates midmorning, sweating and near exhaustion, you’ve got everyone back home thinking—” He all but leapt across the space between Hamish and his horse, stopping from fully embracing his brother only once his hands already had a firm grip on Hamish’s shoulders. “Bloody hell. What happened to you?”

  Hamish waved a hand, grasping at the blood-stained tatters of his shirt. “Just a bear.” Brushing his brother aside, he escorted Darshan to the nearest riderless horse and assisted in him clambering aboard.

  Any further questions posed to Hamish only had him glossing over what had transpired. Aye, he’d been attacked. Aye, the bear was responsible for his clothes being in tatters. Aye, the blood was his alone. And aye, the creature was dead, thanks to Darshan.

  Gordon glanced at Darshan, disbelief over the whole story plastered across his face. But if he was looking for more answers, then he seemed content to bide his time. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” Darshan replied. “I feel like it.” He slumped in the saddle. At least the horse didn’t appear in a hurry to return to the stables. He rather doubted he had the strength to direct the animal, much less halt a stubborn beast.

  “He needs food,” Hamish supplied, hoisting himself into the only free saddle. “The sooner, the better. I think he almost tore himself apart trying to save me.” A shadow passed across his face. He clearly still didn’t think himself worthy of the effort.

  A quick rummage through everyone’s saddlebags produced little; a wedge of cheese with edges as hard as rock and half of a loaf that tasted like it had been baked last week.

  Darshan devoured it all, right down to the final crumb. He’d need more, but this would shake the ghost of lethargy haunting his bones. He might even be capable of a little conjuring without passing out by the time they arrived at the castle gates.

  Gordon swung his horse to march beside Darshan’s mount as they began their journey towards the castle. The man gave only the twitch of a brow towards Darshan, his gaze flicking to Hamish and back.

  Darshan replied to the man’s silent query with a bow of his head, mouthing ‘later’. Seeing Hamish back in the castle, ensuring his lover couldn’t finish what he had attempted, was his first priority. He wouldn’t speak of what had happened until then, certainly not in the company of unknown variables like the guards.

  Velveteen twilight graced the sky by the time they reached the castle gates. Even confined in granite walls, Darshan didn’t dare to leave Hamish’s side as they entered the castle proper, much to his lover’s consternation.

  He would’ve followed Hamish into his quarters had the customary trio of guards not been waiting outside the man’s door. The
y sneered at Hamish’s arrival, a steely coldness settling into their eyes as they eyed Darshan.

  Unperturbed, he leant against the wall and idly tapped the heel of his boot against the other toe. The guards seemed to be the same three that had invaded the guest quarters in the only time Hamish had lingered there. How hard would they try to stop Hamish from harming himself? Had they been ordered to keep him alive should the unthinkable happen? Or did Queen Fiona believe a dead son was better?

  His focus slid to the door handle. How long had his lover been in there? Long enough to shed his bloodied clothes? Perhaps he hadn’t gotten that far. What if he currently laid sprawled unconscious on the floor?

  That final thought gnawed at him. By Hamish’s own admission, the guards wouldn’t check on him until dawn. Maybe not even then. Except he also needed sustenance. Perhaps not on the same level as Darshan, but it would be foolish for Hamish to sleep without something in his stomach. And Darshan had no idea of the effect his unorthodox magic would have on the man’s body.

  Darshan strode up to the door. He couldn’t stand the idea of waiting whilst Hamish could be prone on the floor.

  The guards slipped between him and the entrance before he could reach for the handle. “You cannae go in there,” said the black-bearded man Darshan had already pinned as the leader. The man glared at Darshan as if spotting something slimy crawling out of a swamp. “Standing order of the queen.”

  Darshan straightened, firing back with his finest haughty look. They were actually serious? “I have no desire to break bones tonight.” If he’d been feeling less drained, he wouldn’t have bothered with such civility, but he would prefer not using what little of his magic he currently had at his command. “So I suggest you step aside now before I rethink that stance.”

  The leader sneered at him. He’d barely opened his mouth, the creak of his first word passing his lips, when one of the other men crept up to whisper in his ear. The man’s eyes narrowed. He twisted to face his underling, seemingly seeking confirmation.