Just as Cailan thought they had all drifted off to sleep, the rustle of fabric and the soft pad of bare feet on the tent floor caught his attention. He held his breath, fingers tightening around the wine bottle still clutched in his hands.

Hamish lowered himself beside Cailan and extended his hand towards the wine bottle Cailan still clutched. “Thanks for holding onto it for me.”

Cailan passed the bottle back, careful not to let their fingers brush. "You're welcome, sir," he murmured, gaze lowered respectfully.

Hamish took a long swallow of wine. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then fixed Cailan with a curious gaze. "Did you have any?"

"No, of course not, sir!"

“Are slaves not allowed alcohol?”

"You gave me the bottle to mind. I wouldn't drink from it without permission, sir."

"Ah, I guess that is good manners," Hamish mused, a hint of amusement in his tone. Then, with a crooked smile, he added, "And where are mine? Would you like some wine, Cailan?"

The offer caught Cailan off guard. He glanced up, searching Hamish's face for any sign of a trick or test. Finding only genuine curiosity, he shook his head slightly. "No thank you, sir."

Hamish nodded as he sat back, supporting his weight on one hand. “So, how have you been settling in?”

“Liam is still learning his way around, but he much prefers being able to share a tent with his friends and he appreciates the community here. He’s grateful for your help in all of this.”

Hamish's lips quirked into a half-smile. "That's nice, but I asked about you, not Liam."

The gentle rebuke made Cailan's cheeks flush. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I, um... there haven't been any incidents, sir, if that's what you're enquiring about?" 

"That's good to hear," Hamish nodded, then leaned in slightly. "Have you—"

His words were cut short by the sudden rustle of the tent flap. Liam stood silhouetted in the entrance, a tray of food balanced in his hands. For a moment, his face was lit with a warm smile, but it quickly faded as he took in the scene before him. His eyes narrowed, darting between Hamish and Cailan, then to the sleeping forms of Tris and Roope. Without a word, he strode over to Tris and delivered a sharp jab to his ribs with the toe of his boot.

Tris stirred with a groan, his voice thick with sleep. "What?" he mumbled, slowly blinking awake.

"What's this?" Liam asked, his eyes narrowing as he nodded towards Hamish and Cailan.

Tris, still groggy, pushed himself up on his elbows. He squinted at Liam, then at Hamish, clearly confused. "That's Hamish," he mumbled. "You know Hamish."

“Not well enough for him to be with Cailan, unsupervised.”

Roope sat up abruptly, the blanket falling away to reveal his naked form. "I'm sure they were only talking, Liam. Hamish wouldn't do anything inappropriate."

“I suspect you’re quite right about that, but I need to be the one to make that decision. Every time. I told you it was okay for you to bring people back here and you promised me your guests would never have unsupervised access to Cailan.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Cailan could hear his own heart pounding in his ears, feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He wanted to disappear, to sink into the ground beneath him.

Roope was the first to break the silence. "You're absolutely right," he said, his voice steady despite his compromising position. "We had an agreement with you and we broke it. We apologise."

"Yeah, shit," Tris chimed in, finally sitting up fully. He ran both hands down his face, as if trying to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep and intoxication. "I didn't think anything of it because it's Hamish, but you're right. We made you a promise."

Liam's chest rose and fell with a long, slow breath. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, but a spark of irritation still lingered in his eyes. 

Liam's gaze shifted to Hamish, who sat cross-legged on the ground, the wine bottle nestled between his thighs. "You were just talking to him, yes?" Liam's voice was controlled, but there was an edge to it that made Cailan's skin prickle.

“Of course,” Hamish said. “Or trying to, anyway. He doesn’t say much.”

“Companions are trained not to gossip behind their masters’ backs.”

Hamish's eyebrows rose slightly. "I didn't realise I was requesting deeply privileged information when I asked him how he was." There was a challenge in his voice, subtle but unmistakable.

The air in the tent seemed to thicken, the tension palpable. Cailan's fingers twisted in the fabric of his robe, his heart racing. He felt caught between two forces, unsure and afraid.

“He’s not stupid, Hamish, and neither am I,” Liam said. “There’s a lot that could be gleaned from a truly honest answer to that question. I'm not opposed to you knowing more about Cailan, but I take issue with you attempting to circumvent me to get that information."

"That's fair," Hamish conceded. Then, turning to the others, he suggested, "Tris, Roope, why don't you go finish your nap in my tent so that Liam and I can talk?"

Tris snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he fumbled with his clothes. “Yeah, because if there’s one thing that’s going to make this day better, it’s waking up to Simon finding me sleeping in his tent. No thank you, but we will fuck off so that you can talk. Might as well go get some dinner while they’re still serving it.”

"Thank you," Hamish said, his eyes following their movements as they dressed. After they left the tent, Hamish stood, swaying slightly, and settled onto their vacated sleeping mats.

Liam's eyes softened as they fell on Cailan. He offered a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. With a gentle squeeze to Cailan's shoulder, Liam moved to join Hamish on the other sleeping mats.

"So," Liam began, his voice low and controlled, "did you simply see the opportunity to have a conversation with Cailan and decide to take it, or was this a situation that you set out to create?"

Hamish's laughter, slightly too loud in the confined space, held a note of incredulity. "Listen, Liam," he began, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We have a community here and I consider it my responsibility to make sure that everyone who lives here is safe and taken care of. Cailan might be a slave, but he lives here too, so I take responsibility for his wellbeing."

"I think you'll find that Cailan's wellbeing is my responsibility," Liam said, each word carefully enunciated. "I'm sure your intentions were good, but you know nothing about him or what his needs are."

Hamish nodded, his eyes never leaving Liam's face. He lifted the wine bottle to his lips, took a long pull, then extended it to Liam. “I don’t know Cailan at all, and I don’t know much about mages, but I know putting all your eggs in one basket is a dangerous move. I know relying on a single person to be everything for you, forever, just isn’t healthy. I worry enough about Simon doing that with me, and he’s a free man.”

Liam's fingers closed around the neck of the bottle, his knuckles whitening slightly. He took a long swallow, the wine leaving a faint stain on his lips. “I used to try to include him in activities with my school friends, but it never went well. The more they felt like I was allowing them access to him, the worse it went. I learnt not to trust anyone with him.”

“You trust Tris and Roope with him.”

Liam nodded, taking another long drink before responding. “I do, yes. They’re a different breed of men. I believe you are too, but understand that I’ve known Tris and Roope for years and I didn’t introduce them to Cailan until we made the move here." His eyes locked with Hamish's, fierce and unyielding. "I do not trust easily when it comes to Cailan's safety."

"I respect that, really," Hamish said. "You've done what you've needed to do, and if you've kept him safe in a place like this..." He gestured vaguely at the tent walls, implying the harsh world beyond. "You must be doing something right.

"But Liam," Hamish continued, "I've tried talking to Tris and Roope about Cailan. Asking them about him. They tell me they don't know anything, that they have nothing to do with him, and I don't think they're just being tight-lipped for the sake of your privacy."

“Well—no, that’s accurate.”

“Why?”

“He’s timid. He doesn’t like to talk to others.”

“That’s not surprising. It sounds like he’s had nothing but bad experiences with other people.”

Cailan watched as Liam took another long swallow of wine. With a soft groan, he lowered himself onto the sleeping mat. "Mm..."

"What happens if something happens to you?" Hamish's voice was low, but in the quiet tent, it carried clearly to Cailan's ears. "Do you have an inheritance plan for Cailan?"

“Tris and then Roope.”

“Do you see the problem here, then?”

Liam nodded. "He needs to know them.”

"That's right," Hamish affirmed. His hand moved to Liam's hair, fingers gently carding through the strands.

Liam shut his eyes and pressed into the touch. “Thank you for caring. I must seem like an imbecile, but this is harder than it seems.”

"It doesn't seem easy," Hamish replied softly, continuing to stroke Liam's hair.

Cailan's heart lurched painfully in his chest as he watched Liam wrap an arm around Hamish, pulling him closer. The world seemed to slow down, every detail etched with painful clarity as Liam pressed his lips to Hamish's.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he buried his face in his pillow. He'd known this moment would come eventually, had steeled himself for it, but nothing could have prepared him for the raw pain that tore through him.

The copper tang of blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, internally scolding himself. It wasn’t right for him to feel this way. Liam was not his. A good slave did not get upset when he did not get what he wanted, and Cailan was a very good slave. At least, that was what Liam always told him.

"Ah," Hamish's voice cut through Cailan's spiralling thoughts. "I think I should go."

“What? Why?” There was a moment of silence and then Liam said, “Oh.”

The sound of another kiss—shorter, lighter—reached Cailan's ears. He imagined Hamish's lips pressing against Liam's cheek, or perhaps his forehead, and felt a fresh wave of jealousy wash over him.

"I'll talk to you later," Hamish said.

Cailan remained motionless, face still pressed into his pillow, as he listened to Hamish's retreating footsteps. The tent flap rustled, a gust of cool air sweeping in, and then silence fell once more.