by Aldrea Alien
Hamish dared to lift his attention to beyond. The fields were in chaos. The vast majority of the crowd seeking whatever exit could be had. Others milled about, seemingly torn between lingering to watch and fleeing.
Guards slowly filed through the crowd, spreading out in a wide circle around Hamish and the others.
Hunching his shoulders, he glanced towards the stage. His mother hadn’t moved. She argued with his father, who seemed intent on keeping hold of her, but didn’t appear to be ordering the guards.
“The rules do not forbid its use,” Darshan interjected as the women’s renewed grumblings grew louder. “And I thought it more than fair given that you all have full use of your vision whilst I had to do without these.” He tapped on the frame of his glasses, scoffing as the revelation seemed to have no actual effect on the women’s suspicious expressions. “If I had meant harm to any of you, I would have waited until the end.”
“T-they—” spluttered the heavily freckled women. She pointed at the other two competitors who had been the closest to Hamish’s arrow until just a few moments ago. “They were the ones who hit near enough to centre. One of them should be claiming Prince Hamish’s hand, nae you.”
“I dinnae want him,” piped up one of the singled-out women, her blue eyes wide. “Nae if he’s one of them.”
Frowning, Hamish bit his tongue in an effort to keep from speaking. Them. Never had he heard the word spoken with such disgust.
“Neither do I,” muttered the other woman. Still, she gave him a peculiar considering look, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Well, maybe for Isaac.” She cocked her head to one side. “Is short and relatively hairless your only preference, your highness? Because I can probably convince me brother to shave.”
Taken aback by the offer, Hamish struggled to find his voice. Was she really considering staking a claim to his hand and offering it to her brother in lieu of herself? Was that even allowed?
“Thank you for the generous offer,” Darshan piped up before Hamish could form a response. “But I believe he is mine and I have no intention of giving him up.” He clasped Hamish’s hand, squeezing reassuringly. “By right of conquest, I claim the hand of Prince Hamish of the Mathan Clan.”
The crowd stilled as his lover’s voice boomed across the field.
“The hell you do!” his mother screamed. Whilst she still remained on the temporary stage—largely in part due to his father’s grip on her arm—she looked ready to tear Darshan’s throat with her bare hands. “Arrest him!” She struggled against his father’s grip before imperiously pointing a finger at them. “Arrest that man! I want him flung into our deepest cell.”
A three of the guards rushed forward, their swords drawn.
Nae good. Hamish stepped back, dragging Darshan closer to him. He had been prepared for a tirade. He was even prepared for her to banish the pair of them from the kingdom. But to call for Darshan’s arrest? Nae good at all.
A shield formed around them in a filmy, flickering sheen of purple light.
Beyond the shield, the guards halted. They eyed the magical barrier and, with their resolve seeming to waver, turned back to the stage.
His mother urged them onwards. Even though no sound reached his ears, she was clearly raving.
Hamish stretched out a hand, brushing his fingers across the shield. Warm and hard. Like when his lover had enclosed him in a similar shield in order to keep Hamish from being rooted out by the guards; a time that seemed like years ago rather than a scant month. He hadn’t been able to hear beyond the shimmering barrier’s confines back then, either.
Whatever his mother was saying seemed to have little effect on the guards. If anything, they were instilling fresh panic in the crowd. The competitors had already vacated the area and the mass of quickly dispersing people poured out the field. If he strained, he could almost make out their screams.
“Dar, you need to stop.” It was one thing to witness a target burst into flame, quite another to realise it was the work of magic, that the source stood in the middle of everything. And was also unwilling to bend to their laws.
His lover’s brows lowered, merging with the upper frame of his glasses. “She ordered my imprisonment. Me. If you think I am going to let those brutes touch me—”
“They’re nae going to lay a hand on you.” There didn’t appear to be a single guard standing who hadn’t already joined the fleeing masses. They’re going to get an earful once Mum catches up to them. To think of the skulking he had done over the weeks, and all Darshan would have needed to keep the guards away was to put up a simple shield.
“And how does opting to keep their distance exclude them from effectively turning me into a pincushion?” his lover shot back.
“I’m sure Mum wouldnae order them to—” He froze as a hand, too broad to be Darshan’s, clapped onto Hamish’s shoulder. Gordon? It had to be. Hadn’t Darshan told him that his brother was capable of passing through the spellster’s shields?
He turned to find his father looming over him.
“I think you two should head back to the castle,” his father rumbled. A pair of horses stood at his back and behind them—
Hamish’s gaze darted to where his mother was already planted on a horse. Not ready to bear down upon them in a burning rage, but being dragged away from the field by his sister’s hold on the horse’s reins. How did they even manage to get her on a horse? He doubted either sibling would dare to touch her. Had it been his father’s doing?
“Lad,” his father growled, the tone blanking all else from Hamish’s mind. “Castle. Now.”
Nodding, Hamish grasped the reins as his father clambered aboard his own horse and left. He hastened to follow suit, barely registering that Darshan’s magical shield had vanished.
“Man of few words, your father,” Darshan murmured as he swung into the other saddle.
“Aye.” He and his siblings had long learnt to listen sharp when his father was riled. We well and truly fecked this up. But what other way could Darshan have won the contest that wouldn’t also have seen his mother spitting fire like a demon?
“What now?”
“You’re asking me?” Hamish knew what usually happened once the final trial was won, but his mother wouldn’t allow even the celebratory feast to go ahead, much less the wedding that should follow.
Darshan eyed the castle with a measure of consternation. “If we go in, there shall be only one entrance out.”
Hamish nodded. There was the tunnel, but getting to it whilst tailed by guards would be tricky. And there was no guarantee that the key would still be wherever Darshan had left it. Or that the lower entrance wasn’t suddenly guarded.
He fiddled with his reins, weighing the merits of leaving over obeying his father’s decree. “We best be getting up there.”
“I think this is a bad idea, but lead the way.”
Hamish nudged his mare onward. He didn’t want to think that Darshan could be right, but his mother could likely be beyond reason. And yet, a small seed of hope sat nestled within that. If everyone else was standing by him, they could make her see the truth. That, maybe, his mother wouldn’t set him adrift because of who he loved.
Hamish stared up at the entrance to the dining hall. His mother waited inside. Did his father and siblings also linger? I hope so. He could face her readily enough with Darshan at his side, but having them there as well would help immensely.
“It isn’t too late to leave,” Darshan whispered. His lover had slipped into speaking exclusively in Udynean from the moment they had entered the courtyard. The menacing presence of the guards milling around the gate likely had something to do with that. The man walked as if expecting an attack at any moment.
Hamish couldn’t be entirely certain that Darshan wasn’t wrong.
Ideally, this was the safest place for an ambassador, but he couldn’t say whether or not his mother’s senses had slipped enough to believe she could harm or contain Darshan without repercussion.
“I can
nae just up and leave.” He had to try and repair some of the damage. Maybe even give his siblings something to build upon to possibly smooth over any grumblings the clans might have about a Udynean nobleman participating in the contest.
Darshan squared his shoulders. His whole face seemed to grow stiff, once again donning that emotionless mask. “I understand,” he murmured.
“Thank you.” He gingerly clasped the door handle. If the worst was to happen, then they would be as good as trapped until either Darshan’s magic took its toll or they managed to force their way out. “Just… stay vigilant.”
The coolness of his lover’s answering laugh prickled Hamish’s skin. “Believe me, I’m already well there.”
Hamish pushed open the door. Relief sagged his shoulders upon seeing his family. Not the children, but he wasn’t going to be facing his mother with only the source of her ire at his side.
“You!” his mother screamed. She lunged at them, stopped only by his father’s hasty grab at her waist. Whilst he effortlessly lifted her off the ground, her voice wasn’t so easily contained. “You dare to enter this hall as if you are an ally? I looked the other way when you blatantly attempted to corrupt me son, but now you dare interfere with our sacred traditions? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Sacred?” Darshan shot back. “You are offering your son up like he is some… trinket.” He took a few steps towards her, putting himself between her and Hamish. “And whilst we are on the subject, I won that contest.”
“Won?” If his mother’s eyes bulged any further, Hamish was certain they would pop out of their sockets. “Won?” Spittle flew from her mouth with each word. “You entered under another clan’s banner. That little bout of deception alone makes you ineligible. You dinnae deserve that fecking favour!”
“Well I could hardly compete as myself. Doing so would rather defeat the purpose of everyone being anonymous, would it not?”
Rather than answer the spellster, she twisted to glare at Hamish’s father over her shoulder. “Do you nae see what your laxity has allowed?” She indicated both Darshan and himself with a wave of her hand. “Are you blind? Are you going to just stand there and let him cheat his way to your son’s soul?”
His father’s gaze flicked between his wife and them. He lowered her to the ground, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder. “It’s me understanding that he didnae actually cheat, so I dinnae see why you would think—”
“You mean nae one caught him,” his mother scoffed. “He’s a Udynean and a spellster, of course he bloody cheated. Probably killed the poor lass whose place he stole. Where is she?” she growled at Darshan. “What did you do with the woman whose clothes you wear?”
Hamish laid a hand on his lover’s arm, hoping that simple gesture was enough to keep Darshan from doing something foolish.
“They’re Muireall’s clothes, Mum,” Gordon said before anyone could utter a word. “I gave them to him. I put the idea of him competing into his head. The Dathais Clan wasnae sending anyone. He didnae cheat his way in. He went through every trial, just like the others.”
Hamish swallowed the sickly lump building in his throat. Gordon might’ve helped Darshan, but he doubted his brother was aware of the spellster using magic in the first trial to bolster his strength. Or really understood how the messy business with the arrow hadn’t been entirely Darshan’s doing despite Hamish explaining at great lengths.
His mother shook her head. “Oh, ideas were certainly put into someone’s head, but it was nae yours into his.” She whirled on Darshan, thrusting an accusing finger in his direction. “You bewitched them,” she snarled. “You’ve cast one of your insidious spells and turned me whole family to your twisted way of thinking.”
Darshan’s whole body vibrated beneath Hamish’s hand. “I have done no such thing.” Shimmers of heat rose from his fists, but he kept them at his side. “There is not a spellster alive who can hypnotise a group of people.”
“You admit it,” she crowed, her face warped in malicious glee. “Nae as a group, but individually…”
His father turned his mother around. “All your children are doing is what you’ve always taught them to do: Stand by each other. You cannae ask them to change that nature just because the thing they are standing against is you.”
Hamish stuck out his chest, welling pride stinging his eyes. His father was right. None of them had dared face her in the past, but now…
It was too much. She had made too many demands for them to back down.
“Even if the lad had used a little magic during the trials,” his father added. “There’s nae law against it.”
She stepped back from her husband as if she had never seen the man before. “Of course there’s nae law. It isnae there because our spellsters are cloistered.” His mother spat in Darshan’s general direction. “That’s where you should be, locked away with all the others. I should’ve seen you put in one the second you stepped off that ship.”
Darshan laughed coldly. “Really?”
That single word, softly echoing with the threat of eternal pain, lifted every hair Hamish possessed. He had always thought his mother to be the epitome of haughtiness, but Darshan’s expression swept his mother’s into the realm of a petulant child.
His lover took a few steps closer to Hamish’s family, his movements like liquid. “Had I been the countess you had expected, I rather doubt that you would give a whit of care as to whether or not I had used magic. You fight against me winning only because I am a man.”
His mother stood there in furious silence. If Hamish didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn she was going to kill Darshan where he stood. It was a wonder she hadn’t called the guard.
“Fiona,” his father rumbled, tearing his mother’s attention from Darshan. “If you think so poorly of Udyneans, then why did you accept the treaty?”
“I only accepted because it was made clear to me that refusing would mean war nae matter what they professed. I wished to spare all of you that.” She whirled on Darshan. “Then you came along and stole me son’s life.”
Rage blazed across Darshan’s face. “I—”
“Mum, really?” Nora snapped.
“You dinnae understand how these people think, dear,” their mother ranted. “If I let him stay, if I accept this ridiculous claim and make him a recognised prince of Tirglas, then the next thing happening is you all winding up dead and Udynea has two thrones to plonk their greedy arses on.”
“If we really wanted Tirglas,” Darshan snarled, “we would have taken it. Or do you honestly think your defences would mean anything to our army? My father offered you peace.”
“Of course you say that now,” his mother roared. “What better way to see us lower our defences than act like the thought hadnae crossed your wee mind? Why else would your people send the Crown Prince of Udynea here?”
Hamish gaped at her. She knew? This whole time? Or had she only become aware of what his title meant after Nora told her?
The laughter that escaped Darshan’s lips definitely had to be one of shock, or perhaps disbelief in what he had heard. “You dare to presume my actions? I am not the one here who refuses to accept Hamish exactly as he was born.”
“This?” She gestured to Hamish, indicating all of him with a wave of her hand. “This is nae a circumstance of birth.” The disgust in her voice twisted her features as she continued, growing monstrous. “It is a disease. You all see him rotting at the core and do nae a thing but aid the cause. Me own family… plotting against me, allowing their minds to grow sick with this poison.”
“I cannae believe you still dinnae get it,” Gordon muttered, shaking his head.
“ ‘Mish has found someone he loves,” Nora added, her voice barely audible. “At least have the decency to concede that.”
His mother turned from them to address Darshan. “Tell your father nae to bother sending another ambassador. I abolish any and all trade agreements. Your kind are nae welcome here. If your people set
foot on these lands and—”
“Mum!” Gordon snapped.
Hamish gaped wordlessly, his breath stolen. He staggered forwards. She couldn’t be suggesting what he thought.
“And… what?” Darshan’s voice had grown cold. The whisper of danger hung in the air like an encroaching storm. He folded his arms, appraising her as one would a rabid boarhound. “You would truly rescind our offer of a peaceful alliance? Over your son’s happiness?”
Slighting the Mhanek by slapping aside the empire’s gesture of goodwill invited retaliation. Which would cause the clans to respond in kind. Which would see the forests burn and Tirglas swallowed whole. His home… His family… All of it would be ashes in the wind.
Unless Darshan was able to convince his father to ignore the insult.
“Please,” Nora begged, clasping her mother’s arm as if she were a child of five again. “Think of your granddaughter, think of me wee lads. If you actually care about our safety as much as you profess, then dinnae do this.”
“I am thinking of them. This is me final decision. I will nae stand aside and let Udynea wheedle its way to our throne. Now go, all of you.” She shrugged off her daughter and, without a single look Hamish’s way, headed for the smaller hall entrance. “I must mourn me son’s demise.”
“Mourn me?” Hamish roared, outrage giving him voice. “When did I fecking die?”
The room fell silent, every eye on him.
His heart raced, thumping at his temples. “I cannae believe it. Even when everyone is telling you the same thing and you still willnae listen. You never listen. Nae when I first confided in you and nae now. You just keep insisting you’re right. You were aware I didnae want this competition, that I’d chosen me path, and you still went through with it.”
His mother lifted her head, jutting her chin at them. Every inch the queen. “Have you quite finished?”
Experience told him he should shut his face, but after decades of being forced to corral who he was, to pretend…
