To Target the Heart

by Aldrea Alien

  “It’s nae like the last time he tried,” Gordon muttered. “He’d been miserable for months back then. I mean, sure, ‘Mish is reckless and throws himself at whatever dangerous thing is at hand, but this is the happiest I’ve seen him in years. I did nae think he would make another attempt.”

  Darshan bit his lip in an effort to remain silent. A number of his half-sisters had died through what could only have been suicide. One had given birth to a son only months beforehand, and she’d taken her baby’s life along with her own. Few of them had showed any signs.

  Some hints registered only after it was too late.

  “Me mum thinks you’ve placed some spell on me brother. Although, I suppose she will have changed her stance on that. Or accuse you of ensorcelling him into that bear’s grasp.”

  Indignance stole his breath for a heartbeat. “I have most certainly not bewitched your brother,” he snarled. If he had been at all capable of such, then Hamish would’ve been more likely to throw himself aboard a ship than before a bear. “That sort of magic does not work in such a fashion for long. Once direct line of sight is broken, it takes but a moment for the weakest of wills to clear their minds. Most who practice such abilities use it only in dire circumstances.”

  “But it can be done?”

  “Not by myself. I have never been able to hypnotise people. It requires patience, concentration and a great many other minuscule stipulations, all needlessly taxing when I can simply order people to do my bidding. Hamish’s mind is his own, you have my word there.”

  Gordon hummed, but seemed to accept the truth. “And you’ve made it quite plain how upset you are over what me mum’s done to me brother.”

  “To put it mildly,” Darshan muttered under his breath.

  “I was wondering—”

  “—if I will help stop this contest for his hand?” he finished for the man. “Certainly.”

  Gordon shook his head. “Stopping it isnae possible.”

  That was about what Darshan expected. Everyone acted as if the union contest was some immutable thing. “Because the peace between your clans is paramount to the wish of one man, I know.” His gaze lifted to the tower ramparts, the walls that bordered cliffs. There were an awful lot of places within the castle alone where a desperate man could take his life. “Answer me this: Do you honestly think your brother would even make it to his wedding night?” No matter which competitor won, the outcome would be the same. “We both know the path chosen for him will do him no good.”

  “Do we?” Gordon straightened, indicating Darshan follow him with a jerk of his head as he ventured back into the castle.

  Darshan trotted along at the man’s side, forced to take two steps for Gordon’s one. “I hope you are as trustworthy as your brother believes.” He ducked his head as he spoke, a reflex of having to whisper to people far shorter than himself. “I rather get the feeling that trust was hard-earned.”

  “It was.” Gordon peered out the corner of his eye at Darshan as they passed through a lit intersection. “He trusted me mum once, too. And he seems to trust you.”

  “But you still do not,” Darshan said, fairly confident that was the direction the man was taking. “I understand, really I do. Entrusting the wellbeing of your brother to someone who is virtually a stranger? I would likely have the same doubts if it were my sibling.”

  Gordon wet his lips. He glanced over his shoulder, seemingly satisfied they didn’t share the dark corridor. “He almost succeeded in his last attempt. Ate berries he had to ken were poisonous. Fortunately, we were nae far from the cloister at the time.”

  “And he has not sought to try since?”

  Gordon shook his head. “Constant surveillance when he leaves his quarters. Nae weapons when he’s alone. Anything to keep him from taking his life.”

  Not much of one. Whilst Hamish was distraught over the idea of being flung into a cloister, it seemed the man’s life would’ve been better if that had happened. “Still, a little forewarning would’ve been nice.” He might’ve been able to spot some hint of what had transpired in the forest before the bear could be roused.

  “Aye, that was me fault. I didnae think he’d make another attempt with you nearby. He seemed stable enough journeying to the cloister.” He sighed and wiped at the corner of his eye. “But I was wrong and he almost paid for that misjudgement.”

  “You might not have been as far off as you believe.” After having listened to Hamish’s every word all the way to the roadside, he had a fair idea of the reasons behind his actions. He didn’t think they were called for, but he saw the steps leading to where they were now easily enough.

  They trotted up a flight of stairs. It could’ve been the dimness of their passage, but he didn’t recall walking this part of the castle before. Where was the man taking him? And would he be able to find his way back without alerting anyone?

  “What if…” Gordon drawled. “What if you join the contest?”

  Darshan came to a halt, all forward motion seemingly impossible whilst his mind sparked and buzzed. “Me?” Unable to see the man’s face properly in the dim corridors, he formed a small ball of light to balance on his palm.

  Gordon seemed wholly serious.

  “I can compete?” Hamish hadn’t mentioned anything about that. Surely the man would know who was eligible to enter the contest for his own hand. “I thought all the suitors were women?”

  “Aye.” It could’ve been the low light, but there seemed to be a gleam of humour in Gordon’s eyes. “But the rules always remain the same of the competitors regardless if the hand being fought for belongs to a man or a woman. They request that only eligible nobles apply.”

  A small flicker of hope peeked into the darkness of Darshan’s despairing thoughts. If he could compete, if he could win, then Hamish would be free to leave with him to Minamist. Except… “Your mother would never allow me to—”

  Gordon bowed his head. Thick, auburn curls tumbled from his temples to obscure part of his face. “She would stop you.” His gaze lifted, peeking through his hair. “But who said she needs to ken you’re there until you’ve won? I’ve a few of me wife’s belongings still packed away, including her clothes and the banner she competed under during the contest for me hand.”

  Darshan shook his head. Competing as himself was one thing. But, whilst he wasn’t exactly a rough-around-the-edges kind of man, he would certainly get caught if he tried masquerading as a woman. “Would I not be a little conspicuous?” Darshan indicated the beard he had cultivated in the past month. “Even if I shaved and wore a dress, I—”

  Gordon waved his hand, seemingly brushing the concern aside. “The competition requires each clan to present their suitors covered top to bottom.” The man gestured from Darshan’s head to his feet. “You’re a mite bit taller than me wife was, but you’re near the same build.”

  “I thought you did not trust me. Now you are asking me to secretly compete in what I gather is a rather serious rite?”

  Gordon folded his arms across his chest. “I didnae think much of you at first, but you saved me brother from completing the worst decision of his life.” He shrugged and let his arms fall to his sides before resuming his sauntering pace to whatever destination the man had in mind. “I think you’re owed a bit of trust.”

  Darshan shuffled along behind the man, keeping the orb floating just over his shoulder to light the way. “You mean I stopped him from the outcome of one terrible choice and threw him into a worse scenario.” Competing for Hamish’s hand could be a step towards making it right. As long as he didn’t get caught. “You seem sure of him even wanting to speak to me ever again. He seemed pretty angry.” Not that Darshan blamed him. “Where is he right now?”

  “Bed. Dinnae fash,” he added, his cheek twitching as he shot Darshan a reassuring smile. “I’ve got people keeping an eye on him. And me brother’s nae the type to hold grudges.”

  They had rounded a few more corners and clambered up two more flights of stairs before an
other thought came to mind. “What of your wife’s clan? If I enter under her old banner, will they not dispute knowing me?” Were two competitors from the same clan even allowed? Darshan toyed with the end of his moustache. If he did compete, he would certainly need Gordon to fill him in on the rules.

  “They probably would,” Gordon conceded. “But her clan willnae be here. They refuse to let any of their women compete. After Muireall died and me sister’s husband, Calder, drowned…” He shrugged. “Well, clearly our family is cursed.” He pushed open a door leading to what appeared to be the man’s personal quarters.

  Unlike the starkness of the guest chambers or the barely lived-in state of Hamish’s room, the walls here were adorned with various tapestries and weapons; although a few of the latter looked as though they’d been untouched for some time.

  Gordon busied himself around the fireplace. Sparks flew from his flint as he lit a small fire.

  “Are you certain helping me compete will be safe for you?” Darshan asked once the fire was properly ablaze. “I have no desire to cause trouble for more people than I need to over this.”

  “Safe?” Gordon grinned, the expression stark in the firelight. “Nae bloody likely. Nae if me mum finds out. But you’ll do what you feel is right anyway. I think that’s part of his attraction to you. That and you’ve little to fear from our mum. It must be driving her mad, being aware of what you two were up to but nae being allowed to punish you like she did the others.”

  An unpleasant tingle trickled down his spine. “And what punishments were they?” Hamish had confessed that his incarceration after being found out in the midst of a deed was the usual response—and how Darshan hated that his lover considered it as normal—but the man had never mentioned the other party in his affairs being punished.

  Confusion scrunched Gordon’s face. “He didnae tell you? Nae even as a warning?” He settled on a stool set before a small writing desk. “Do you even ken she ordered the first man he was with slain?”

  Darshan shook his head. Hamish spoke very little about his past exploits. And he had been given a clear enough signal that enquiring further would not be welcomed.

  “Oh, aye. Nae that I’d cry over the bastard after what he did to me brother, but it’s also been the fate of every man he’s ever been caught with. Took us a wee while to figure out what was happening to them, being that they were mostly sailors.”

  “Every man?” Darshan echoed. Small wonder Hamish had shunned intimacy for so many years. Darshan didn’t think he’d be capable of getting it up if he thought for one moment that it would mean the other person’s death. Nor would he be surprised if that revelation coincided with Hamish’s first attempt on his own life.

  “Aye. Just as the old scriptures say.” The man’s mouth twisted sourly. “Me mum willnae deal such a punishment to ‘Mish—or maybe she would have if our sister hadnae been a spellster, we’ll never ken—but the men who, supposedly, led him astray?” He shrugged. “All I could do was help make sure he didnae get caught.”

  A sickening lump settled in Darshan’s gut, forcing out a question even though he was sure he already had the answer. “What truly became of the dwarven ambassador?” Hamish believed the man to have been whisked out of the kingdom, but his lover had also been confined to his quarters during the days following their exposure.

  Gordon grunted. “ ‘Mish told you about him, then. He did leave alive. Nearly joined the others, though. Thank the Goddess that Nora talked her out of it.” Gordon slapped his hand down on the writing desk. “But what does a prince of Udynea have to fear? Even if you were nae as hard to kill as I suspect, having you disappear like the rest could only lead to war. Me mum may be quick on the temper, but she’s nae stupid. She wouldnae risk having your Mhanek howling for blood.”

  “Thank the gods for small mercies.” Although, he doubted he could count on one hand the number of people who’d be happy to see him dead. He scratched at his cheek, disturbing the short hairs that had grown during his fortnight journey to the cloister and back. “Is there a reason you brought me to what I assume is your quarters?”

  Gordon peered at him. “The real question is: Do you ken how to fight?” He nodded at the glowing orb still hovering at Darshan’s shoulder. “Beyond some flashy sorcery and fistfights?”

  Darshan bit his lip. He relied quite a bit on his magic. More than he should, even by his father’s standards. The vris Mhanek, according to his father, should be confident in defending himself even in times where the worst had come to pass and he was leashed. “Swords?” he offered.

  Those green eyes pinned Darshan to the spot with a piercing look. “And how much training have you had?”

  Far less than he should have. “I have… dabbled here and there.” His twin boasted more skill with a blade than he, but she wasn’t here.

  Groaning, the man rubbed at his temples and stood. “That’ll nae be good enough. Nae when you’ll be up against seasoned warriors.” He prodded Darshan’s chest with one broad finger. “You’re me brother’s only chance of getting out of here without—”

  “—causing a civil war?”

  Gordon grunted. “Or another bloody hunt,” he muttered, striding over to a chest. “If you’re serious about this—about me brother—then you will train. You’ve a week before the last handful of clan competitors arrive, then it’s only the trials.”

  “There is but three.” He had no idea what they entailed, but how difficult could they be if someone without magic was expected to pass them?

  “Aye and if you fail one, that’s it. ‘Mish loses. If you want to have any chance of winning this and keeping me brother from a short, miserable life, then you had better be in the training yard at dawn. Every day until the last of them arrives.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “In the meantime…” Gordon threw open the chest. It contained a few drab articles of clothing and a bundle of other objects wrapped in cloth. He gathered up a few articles and tossed them at Darshan’s feet. “Let’s see if I’m right about these clothes.”

  “Now?”

  Gordon spread his hands. “You got somewhere else to be?”

  Only his quarters if he didn’t wish to further compound his actions by seeking out Hamish.

  Donning the garb was a simple matter, although the headgear took a few attempts for him to get right on his own. Style-wise, it looked pretty close to what the men around here wore, if a little on the drab side. If he understood Gordon’s chatting through the rustle of fabric, no clan had this sort of mottled dirt brown colour in their insignias, so it’d been adopted as a neutral.

  Standing before the full-length mirror, Darshan eyed his reflection. The headgear had interested him when Gordon first unravelled the heavy scarf from the rest. Its length was now wrapped around his head in a manner that was eerily similar to the style worn by the desert tribes in Stamekia. With the lower half of the scarf covering his nose and jaw, he would’ve looked unrecognisable to his own twin.

  Gordon stepped into view. He seemed to examine Darshan, his chest puffed out in clear self-satisfaction. “Seems like a near enough fit. How does it feel?”

  Darshan rolled his shoulders, testing the limits of the attire. The loose clothing would certainly allow him to move freely. “It will serve its purpose. However…” He glanced over his shoulder at the man. “Are you certain about me wearing it? It did belong to your late wife and I would not want to sully it. I do plan to win Hamish’s hand. To marry him. With all that implies,” he mumbled as if the thought hadn’t entirely occurred to Gordon. Gods, that was awkward. But then it had been quite some time since necessity had him pussyfooting around the whole ‘I’m having sex with your brother’ scenario, although the man had to be aware of what his brother had gotten up to over the years. “I thought men liking men was illegal here.”

  Gordon harrumphed. “It’s nae illegal. Nae anymore. Just highly discouraged.”

  “People have died. I would say it is more than merely frowned upon.”


  In the mirror, Darshan caught the man’s shoulders sag. “Aye, but that’s me mum’s overzealous response to the situation. They did have ‘Mish in a compromising position.”

  No doubt that position had been with Hamish bent over a crate in some dark corner. And likely with his consent.

  “It wasnae always like this. Once, even me mum was perfectly fine with the idea of men loving men. Right up until she learnt about ‘Mish. After that, any man who looked too long at me brother was suspect and out to corrupt him. And those who dared to go as far as to touch him? Treason.”

  “I see,” Darshan mumbled around the scarf. His breath bounced back at him, troublesomely hot. And the fabric, although soft, clung to his scruffy beard. He would need to shave if he didn’t want to be driven insane by the constant irritation.

  “ ‘Mish didnae tell you I was the one who found him the first time, did he?”

  Darshan shook his head in reply, marvelling at how the scarf stayed in place. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about it falling off at an inopportune moment.

  “He was just a young man of thirteen and besotted with the castle’s much older stable master, although only the Goddess understands why.” Sighing, he rubbed at his chin. “The bastard used me brother then left him broken and bleeding in the hayloft. I only discovered ‘Mish because he was sobbing.”

  Darshan fastened his gaze on his own reflection. He’d been of a similar age his first time. And he’d quite a few regrets about his choice of partner there.

  “They had to send him to the cloister to be healed before he bled out where no man should bleed.”

  Daring to glance at Gordon’s reflection, Darshan sought for a sign of the man lying. “If he was losing enough blood for it to be a concern, he never would have made it to your cloister.” A week would’ve been far too long. “Or is the one we journeyed to not the closest?”

  “It is, but there used to be one closer.”

  “Used to?” His thoughts turned to the ruin Hamish had pointed out to him weeks ago. His lover had said it was a cloister, but Darshan had assumed it to be an ancient structure time had degraded.