To Target the Heart

by Aldrea Alien

  Darshan stood before him with barely a hand on the railing to steady himself. His attention was largely trained on the massive stone bridge spanning between two cliffs. “There it is,” Darshan breathed. “Freedom’s Leap.”

  Even though most maps showed only open ocean through the pass, the bridge connected one side of the strait to the other. It seemed spindly compared to the surrounding land, but the rocky formation had to be as wide as the ship was long.

  “I’ve only ever heard of it,” Hamish confessed. This was where the first of the nomadic elven clans fled what used to be part of the burgeoning Udynean kingdom—land that was now part of Obuzan. “None of Calder’s cargo ever came this far south.” And even if they had, his mother wouldn’t have allowed him to take a journey that could potentially lead him onto foreign soil.

  “Quite a feat of magic, is it not?” Darshan continued to gush, the words tumbling over themselves as he continued. “Legend tells that the first bridge the elves built tumbled into the sea. And took a great many of the Udynean slavers foolish enough to set foot on it.” He laughed as if it was the folly of another empire.

  “And the elves?”

  Darshan sobered at the question. “Some escaped, I suppose. Where else would the tale have come from?” He nodded at the bridge. “They say the nomadic elves strengthen the magic keeping it in place during each crossing.”

  Hamish’s stomach flipped at the thought of traversing such a structure. One wrong step would send a person plummeting into the water. Or worse, see them smashing against the cliff face.

  “How did it become Obuzan?”

  Darshan inclined his head, his lips pursing. “Through our sheer arrogance. Obuzan was a sect in the northern part of the kingdom that despised all things magic. When Udynea stretched herself to the east, that sect came snapping out at our flanks.” He shrugged. “The empire could not fight on two fronts and annihilating our neighbours held more promise than returning to a place where resources were already depleted.”

  “You’re very clinical about it.”

  Darshan gave another shrug, just as nonchalant as the first. “It was hundreds of years ago. Almost two millennia. Why get passionate over ancient history?” He cleared his throat, his gaze still on the bridge as the ship sailed directly beneath it. A few fist-sized rocks splashed into the sea not far from the railing. “I… um…”

  If Darshan spoke further, Hamish certainly heard nothing over the pounding of his heart and the questions darting about his mind like gulls. Did Darshan’s heart thump as heavily? How much crushing rock could his shield deflect if the bridge were to fail at this moment? Could it be stretched to incorporate the whole ship? Or would they sink along with everyone else regardless?

  Only once the ship was out from beneath the bridge did he realise he’d been holding his breath. He took a few deep, open-mouthed gulps of air. That was definitely going on his list of things to never attempt again. Right at the top.

  Darshan continued, his voice a little strained, “I would like to linger in the city once we reach the port. Send word of our travels to Minamist, speak to my banker about funds.” He arched a brow in Hamish’s direction. “And spend a night in a decent bed before we move on.”

  A bed sized for the pair of them would be far better than the cot that just gave Hamish enough room to lay flat on. Never mind their barely-successful attempt at doing anything except sleep.

  “Maybe…” Leaning back, Darshan ran a finger up Hamish’s forearm. “I do not know… Pick up where we left off?”

  Hamish grinned. They had spent the better part of their first week freely exploring each other’s bodies in the solitude of their tent, foregoing any actual penetration until Darshan had procured a small measure of oil at the riverside village. Sex whilst crammed in a cot hadn’t been the easiest thing, but they had managed to varying degrees of success.

  Whilst they had only attempted sex the once during their journey on board this ship—the cot being short enough that his feet couldn’t make it onto the mattress—the time had been a memorable one. “And hear you roar again, me stag,” Hamish teased.

  Darshan’s cheeks reddened. The shield faltered for a breath, allowing the chill wind to buffet them. “You are not going to let that one drop, are you? I did warn you that I get rather loud when things are going well.”

  The volume hadn’t been a problem. The particular type of sound, however… Well, it wasn’t one he would’ve expected to come from any man, especially not from one who seemed to keep themselves relatively under control during such intimacy. He supposed being the one riding for a change made all the difference. “It was cute.”

  “It was not. It was loud and boorish. And I think I might have woken the whole ship.”

  Hamish snickered quietly to himself. It couldn’t have been the whole ship. The night watch would’ve already been awake.

  “I have spent years trying to stop it.” And yet, Darshan had still roared like a stag calling out in spring. He gave a disgusted grunt. “And it appears I was wrong in my belief that I had gotten it under control.” He eyed Hamish suspiciously. “Anyway, I thought you found it… lacking a certain something?”

  “I said it was nice,” he murmured. And it had been. Not the mind-blowing pleasure Darshan managed to evoke when Hamish was the one doing the riding, but it wasn’t as if he would mind repeating the experience. He’d just been surprised to find it wasn’t as fun as the normal way they made love.

  “Because nice was entirely my goal there.” There was an acerbic tinge to the words. Surly. Just as he had been when Hamish first voiced his opinion.

  “It’s just nae a position I’d choose given the option.” Not that he’d had such a choice in the past. Or the inclination. But Darshan had set the thought in his head and, with the man willing to excuse his lack of experience, trying before forming a proper opinion on the act had seemed fair.

  One side of Darshan’s mouth lifted. “It is perfectly all right, mea lux. Really. I can hardly fault you for having a preference.” He absently patted Hamish’s hand, his rings clinking against the sole golden ring sitting there.

  Hamish’s gaze dropped to the ring adorning his left hand. Several small orbs of dark garnet and shimmering pearls stared back. Unlike the cheap wooden band that now adorned Darshan’s once bare finger—the one on his right hand that was meant for a wedding band—this piece had belonged to his lover. His… husband.

  Darshan had sworn to pick out a piece with a style more appropriate for a wedding band once they were in Minamist, but this served Hamish just as well as any other ring. A quick resize at a jeweller working near the docks had seen it fit Hamish’s finger. The middle left, just as was befitting Tirglasian marriage custom.

  They had followed plenty of his land’s customs in their wedding vows, too. They had waited until their last day in Tirglas before seeking out a priest. The ceremony kept brief and simple due to the necessity of not antagonising the man who had agreed to unite them.

  The priest had been hesitant at first, protesting with all manner of scripture without alluding to the annexed passages, even as Darshan had loaded the man’s hands with gold. It had taken Darshan stripping off one of his rings as extra payment for the priest to finally cave.

  “I simply meant it is a pity you find it lacking,” Darshan continued, dragging Hamish’s attention back from the recent past. “I fear I shall certainly need another fix at some point.”

  “Oh, aye? A fix was it?” Well, Darshan had confessed to imagining the scenario since they had first kissed. Likely along with several others that he hadn’t admitted to.

  Darshan hummed. There was definitely a note of amusement to the sound. “Not right away, you understand. I might keep it for certain occasions.” He waggled a finger in the air, the sunlight glittering off his rings. “No, actually. I shall need it more than that. Once a month would serve well.”

  “Only once?” Hamish found himself fighting to keep the amusement out of his voice. After the
past week, it was quite the drop. But whilst it was a far better prospect than his previous arrangement of forced abstinence, he couldn’t see Darshan adhering to his own declaration. Now they were away from the castle’s endless watch on their movements, his husband had turned out to be a near-insatiable man.

  “You are quite right. Once is far too long to wait. Twice would be more satisfactory, do you not think so?”

  “What I think is I could manage sex more times a month than that.”

  “What?” Chuckling, his husband finally turned to give Hamish his full attention. “I do not mean all of it. I fully intend to be available for you to ride whenever you desire.” He cocked his head. “Or does that arrangement not suit you?”

  “That’s a relief,” he thickly replied. “Because I think you would’ve found me insisting if you stuck to a bi-monthly schedule.”

  “Do not let that stop you,” Darshan said, his voice growing husky. “I would hate to be the only one taking the initiative there.”

  Hamish wrapped his arms around Darshan’s shoulders and drew his husband closer. The world seemed to still as they stood there, their arms encircling each other, their bodies warmed by more than mere sunlight.

  The strait opened out into a harbour roughly the size of the one that sheltered Mullhind. The ship veered south, heading for a city cringing in a small strip of land that the Udyneans had nibbled off the Tirglasian border centuries ago.

  Land. He itched to already be there, to finally plant himself in a kingdom where his mother’s word had no sway. He had been on a number of sailing jaunts with Calder, back before his older sister had even considered having more than one child. But they’d only ever travelled to Tirglasian ports.

  This was foreign soil. Udynean soil.

  According to Darshan, the port served as the bastion between the empire and Obuzan. The mountains running along the border played a heavy part in keeping the two countries apart, but those stone giants crumbled nearer the shoreline and there had been multiple skirmishes in this one spot.

  Not recently, Darshan had made sure of that before procuring passage.

  Hamish’s heart leapt as the ship bumped against the pier. This was it. The first proper leg of their journey across the empire. Nothing left but to follow Darshan’s lead.

  The dock planks creaked and clattered under his foot no differently to those back home. When he breathed deep, the air was no less briny or pungently fishy. Nor was the chatter, now he understood a fair chunk of the language, any different. People still yelled at their underlings and merchants hawked their wares just as boldly.

  His chest ached with the familiarity of it all.

  But one thing was lacking. Where are the guards? This was a border city and of a size almost twice that of the port they’d left. There should’ve been people patrolling the docks if not the streets. Or did the threat of upsetting a spellster keep people in check?

  They waited for their mounts to be unloaded and brought to them by one of the sailors. She bowed upon handed them the reins before returning to assist her crew in unloading the rest of the ship’s cargo. The horses were already saddled and laden with their gear, a little on the lean side food-wise.

  Hamish gave his mare a hearty pat on the shoulder as she blew into his face, pleased to see her again after the days she had spent stabled below deck. She seemed no worse for wear despite never having travelled aboard a ship before. It seemed he had worried over the possibility of leaving her behind in Tirglas for nothing. “Do you think they’ll handle the warmer weather once we head south?”

  “I am certain,” Darshan replied, speaking entirely in Udynean. His voice rose as they left the dockside. “That the stable hands in the palace will keep them comfortable. But we could always clip their coats if they appear distressed on the journey.”

  They pressed deeper into the city, entering a busy market square.

  This, too, looked no different to home. The vendors, the shops, even the people were common. Before their arrival, he had thought his clothes would have him standing out, but they were a close enough cut for him to blend in with the crowd. He supposed the similarity in terms of climate helped there.

  Still, a touch of disappointment gnawed at him. He was in another kingdom, on the fringes, yes—the port city being not even a week’s ride from the Tirglasian border—but it all looked the same.

  Darshan jerked his head at a white-walled building on the other side of the square. “This way.”

  Hamish tilted his head as they passed through the building’s archway and into a small courtyard. Was that music? It was difficult to tell over the chatter of the square at their backs, but he could’ve sworn his ears picked up the hushed beat of a drum—just audible over the quivering thrum and sigh of stringed instruments.

  Were they headed for an inn so early in the day? He had thought for sure that Darshan would’ve sought out funds first. Or contacted his family in Minamist. Although, Hamish understood the urge to dither on the latter. Darshan couldn’t be looking forward to explaining the mess they had made of the trade negotiations.

  Nevertheless, he followed his husband’s lead in handing over his horse’s reins to a waiting stablehand and trailed inside, pushing aside a gauzy curtain.

  The building’s interior looked no less hazy, largely thanks to the men and women puffing away on long pipes. Thin plumes of smoke curled out one end, pooling in the arches and painted panels that made up the ceiling. Visions of pastures and mountains adorned the wood, the greens and whites stained a tar brown by the smoke. Hamish’s eyes watered the longer he lingered in the doorway. His chest burned, but coughing did little to clear it.

  The music he had heard came from a trio of elven men seated upon a dais in a corner. They swayed with each note, their surroundings lost to the sound. Being bare to the waist, the lantern light shone dully on their collars.

  Slaves. He knew he would’ve come across them eventually—not perhaps this soon.

  “What is it?” His husband had vanished from his side for the brief moment Hamish had taken to survey the room, but Darshan now stood before him with a frown furrowing the space between his brows. He turned his head, those hazel eyes searching the dim corner with the musicians before realisation slackened his face. “Would you like me to see them removed?”

  Hamish shook his head. Whilst the idea of slaves was an unsavoury one, he couldn’t expect them to be hidden for the benefit of him forgetting they were there. I’d like to see them free. Even as the thought surfaced, he knew it wasn’t as easy as he had once thought. Darshan had spent a great deal of their journey on the water explaining the rules Udynea had about their most precious commodity.

  A woman appeared from behind another gauzy curtain sectioning off a corridor. She trotted over and bowed. “How may we serve you today…” Her gaze darted over Hamish, and clearly dismissed him with a flattening of her lips, before turning back to Darshan. “…my lord?”

  “Two cups of your finest blend,” Darshan replied, lifting his left hand before him and almost idly rubbing his thumb over the ring on his forefinger. The ring bore a seal that only one man wore; that of the Udynean crown prince.

  Gasping, the woman bowed even lower than before. “Right away, vris Mhanek.”

  “My husband and I shall seat ourselves outside.”

  Hamish’s throat tightened, any attempts at speech momentarily beyond him. My husband… They’d only been married a few days, how did the word fall so easily from Darshan’s lips? His gaze darted to the woman, looking for the same hint of the distaste he had met during their time travelling down to the Tirglasian port.

  If she thought strangely of them, she seemed to know better than to show it. “Of course, vris Mhanek.”

  “Come with me,” Darshan said, entwining their fingers.

  Heat crept into his cheeks as Hamish allowed his husband to lead the way across the room. Not the inferno it once was, he was getting better at controlling it, but the eyes tracking their passage cert
ainly didn’t help.

  The building’s patrons lounged on either benches or nests of pillows piled high at their backs. A number of these latter folk were grouped around strange, bottle-shaped braziers with oddly flexible tubes, occasionally blowing more smoke out into the air. They all stared at him, likely taking in the plainness and travel-worn state of his attire.

  “Did you have to do that?” Hamish muttered. Darshan had also flashed his signet ring to the ship captain, who had fallen over himself to accommodate them just like the young woman.

  “One of the perks of my status.”

  Hamish frowned. “I hope you dinnae expect me to act like that.”

  “Of course not. I rather doubt they would respond in a similar manner anyway. The idea of the vris Mhanek having a husband would be unheard of.” He twisted to peer at the entrance the woman had disappeared through. “Although, I suppose that will change rather rapidly now.” Turning back, he grimaced. “And don’t look at me like that, I plan to pay them. It’s just nice to have the symbol recognised.”

  More gossamer curtains hung along the walls and between ornate pillars, some clearly framing off other entrances. Darshan parted one and stepped into a small, enclosed garden. A pond sat in the middle, its surface shimmering as orange fish swam in lazy circles just beneath the surface. Stone tables dotted the area between beds of flowers and drooping trees, the path to them marked out with wide slabs of stone.

  A few people already sat at a table farthest from the entrance. They eyed Hamish and Darshan with great interest for a while, before returning to their conversation. Occasionally, one would look their way as Darshan made for a table on the opposite end of the garden, but they seemed disinterested. Was it the fact Darshan still held his hand that drew their eye? They couldn’t know Darshan was their vris Mhanek. Or did they?

  They briefly stumbled upon another table tucked behind a hedge where a couple of young men sat too engrossed in staring into each other’s eyes to realise they’d been spotted. Hamish glanced back before the pair was obscured from view once again. They had to be in their late teens, yet here they were, more or less out in the open. He never would’ve dared.