Chapter 20: Unruly Bicker.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20: Unruly Bicker.

Khobii hadn’t thought he would hate it quite so much when Binny wasn’t laughing.

He thought he hated it when he did. No man likes to be made a fool of for other men’s enjoyment, after all, and Khobi had already had a lifetime’s worth of that. But as it turned out, his silence was so much worse.

It should’ve felt good. It should’ve felt good –should have felt satisfying beyond belief –to watch the playful façade finally fall away from Binny’s face; to watch the realisation light up in his eyes with the knowledge that he had made a fatal mistake –that he had crossed the wrong man. And that appearing before him and expecting no repercussions was a grave, grave miscalculation. Because Khobi could see in his face that he knew –that he understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was going to pay for being so naïve as to believe that he could just casually waltz back into Khobi’s presence and still escape his wrath.

And truthfully, with all his heart, Khobi had intended to make him pay –and for everything, at that. For keeping him here from the very start, for all the false smiles and jokes and light words, for tricking him into thinking that just maybe, he wasn’t quite so alone.

...For being the first person in a long time to remind him what it was like to be spoken to as more than just a thing –only to remind him what he was by turning a knife on him.

But for all his anger, and something deep down that ached, it wasn’t satisfying at all.

Fury had boiled up the instant he’d laid eyes on the unsuspecting servant –just slipped in through the door with some warm bread and a change of clothes for him –and without a second thought he’d flung himself across the room with a snarl; ready to exact his vengeance. And it was nothing if not gratifying to watch the shock rise in Binny’s eyes as he realised his folly.

But then those eyes –usually so sharp –had glazed over; a vacant kind of acceptance taking over, like clouds swallowing up the light of the moon. Something about it made Khobi’s stomach churn the way it had when he’d seen him with his head bowed. This wasn’t the wicked little Binny he knew –that one was sly and slippery and spoke in taunts and jibes –and would certainly never look so pathetic when there was a fist clenched in the collar of his tunic. There had been no lie in the way he had handled his knife, and his words back in the throne room had come with the simple, easy confidence of a man with faith in his own strength.

A wily servant with dangerous eyes and a silver tongue.

Not this.

A lump that he couldn’t explain rose up in Khobii’s throat, and suddenly he wanted to shake him –a new kind of anger building in his blood, a kind of bitter heat, because he knew that Takao, for all the things he’d done that had made him ache somewhere that he thought he’d forgotten could ache, was more than this. So, with his face curling into a vehement grimace, and his teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached, Khobi flexed his right hand into a fist –no more than a moment away from delivering his payment squarely across the servant’s jaw.

And then Binny flinched.

It stung.

It was only something small, a reflex in slight anticipation of pain –and yet it had the memory of purple bruises that so perfectly mirrored his own blossoming up behind Khobi’s eyes like bile, and suddenly he had never felt more disgusted with himself.

There was revulsion in Khobi’s red eyes as he roughly shoved Binny away from him, and with a roar filled with anger –whether it was directed at himself or at the other man he couldn’t tell –he spun on his heel and slammed his fist down into the nearest table. Tremors of pain shot up his arm like poison, and he fought for his eyes not to water as his knuckles smarted and the wood splintered under his skin. But he already knew that it didn’t feel half as terrible as it would’ve if he’d been the one to stain Binny’s body with another one of those dirty bruises.

That wasn’t him. He couldn’t –refused to –let himself be like them.

Shoulders heaving, he stewed in the silence, cursing himself and fighting back a sudden wave of nausea. Queasiness had never been his thing --he’d been around enough blood, death and other things besides to have grown numb to those sorts of things, but all of a sudden there was a tight gnawing in his stomach that made him feel ill at ease. It felt different from anger. Worse, even.

"Maybe I deserved that," was the first thing Binny said, and it caught Khobi off guard, snatching him from his thoughts and bringing him crashing back to the present.

He was still panting when he retracted his throbbing hand from the crater of a dent it had made in the wood of the desk. And when he turned, slowly -reluctantly -he found the servant staring at him with an odd and rather unfamiliar kind of expression on his face –like he didn’t know whether to be confused or amused. But whatever it was, with it came the wily creature that he knew, with lips curled into a lopsided grin and one eyebrow quirked as though faced with a riddle that he didn’t know quite what to make of, and there was a soft spark of mirth in his eyes when he spied Khobi’s reddening knuckles.

If Khobi had looked long and hard enough, he might have seen that strange softness in his face for what it really was.

Gratitude.

But Khobi didn’t look, and on that matter at least, Binny’s lips were sealed.

"Maybe," Khobi muttered mutinously, flexing his fingers and wincing when the action made them twinge, "I won’t apologise."

"Me neither," Binny replied simply, with a small shrug, but all the same, his grin seemed at odds with his words –almost apologetic in nature when he added, "But for what it’s worth; it really was nothing personal."

"Yeah," Khobi mumbled grudgingly, the heat withering from his voice and the anger that the servant’s arrival had sparked beginning to fade, "I get that." After all, orders were orders, and masters were masters. And disobedience was never looked upon favourably.

Binny looked at him again at that –really looked at him, head cocked inquisitively and those eyes –the light slowly returning to them –roving searchingly across his face. And then, with a little, sheepish chuckle and a smile soft enough that it might have even been real, he added, "You’re all right, Khobi."

His words felt warm, and for some reason, the ache Khobi hadn’t quite been able to place didn’t feel quite so bad. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his fist. He let out a soft grunt of pain and lifted his hand to inspect the damage, frowning almost huffily at the broken skin and the tell-tale blue that warned of incoming bruising.

This time, it didn’t irritate him when Binny started laughing.

It wasn’t hysterical, and it wasn’t at his expense –more, it felt relieved, and genuinely, genuinely good-natured.

"Phew," he exhaled, after a moment, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from his brow, "You had me scared for a moment there!"

A vein twitched in Khobi’s forehead.

"Well, what would you expect?" he huffed flatly, "You threw a knife at me! You could’ve fucking killed me!"

"Don’t be ridiculous," Binny snorted, waving away his comment flippantly as though the mere notion was ridiculous, "I knew you’d dodge it just fine. Believe me –" His lips quirked up into a smirk, and a playful, wicked little glint appeared in his eyes, "...If I was trying to kill you, you’d know." At that Khobi cocked his head and raised an eyebrow daringly, and although his eyes narrowed, he couldn’t help but smirk back, just a little.

"I’d like to see you try."

For some reason, that set him off into a fit of snickering all over again.

"Y’know, Khobi, you’re a refreshing kind of guy sometimes," he admitted through his chuckles, grinning helplessly in the kind of way that made Khobi wish he could so carelessly do the same. "Anyways, here –" He extended the bundle of clothes and bread he’d been bearing when he entered the room. " –As delightful as this has been, I can’t afford to stick around today; my services are required elsewhere."

" –What, lots of stuff to do?" Khobi inquired vacantly, as he separated his clothes and his food and found that alongside the warm bread Binny had brought him, there was a little bundle sneakily tucked into the folds of his new shirt. He eyed it warily, turning it over in his hands.

"...Khobi, I’m a servant," Takao snorted with a roll of his eyes, "We always have lots of stuff to do –"

" –What’s this?" Khobi interrupted suspiciously, holding up his find with more than a little apprehension despite how warm it felt and how delicious and sweet it smelled. Of course, his suspicion only heightened when Binny looked a little bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and overall looking like he’d maybe done something he shouldn’t have. At the same time, though, he didn’t look sorry for it.

"Ah well~" he chuckled, "You caught me." Curious, but no less concerned, Khobi took a peek into the package, and could do nothing to stop himself from salivating on the spot as the sweet aromas of a good dozen little frosted cakes assaulted his senses. If he was drooling, he wasn’t even ashamed, and if a new brightness had lit up in his eyes then, he didn’t care to hide it. They looked delicious –like exactly the fancy sort of thing Khobi remembered from his summers as a child. He licked his lips.

" –I figured you’d probably be a little pissed about that whole business the other night," Binny explained lightly, "So I may have snuck some cakes for you from the kitchen. A peace offering, if you will. I didn’t poison them, if you were worried about that."

"...Well now I am." Nonetheless, Khobi, not without a touch of apprehension, fished out one of the little cakes and took a bite.

...And a moment later stuffed the rest of it in his mouth and reached for another savouring the sweetness exploding in his mouth and then swallowing ravenously. It was fucking delicious.

"Glad you like them," Binny snickered, knocking on the door once for the guards to unlock it for him, "Thought you might like a taste, seeing as you won’t get to sample them on the night."

"Hmm?" Khobi frowned, midway through his third cake; frosting stuck to his cheek and crumbs clinging to his lips, "What?"

"Oh, you hadn’t heard?" Binny remarked in feigned surprise, "The Lord Sprida’s having a party in a few nights’ time. Anyone who’s anyone will be there. The King, the princess, the nobles..." He trailed off, and suddenly, his demeanour changed to something scheming; something sly.

"...And most of the castle guard, of course."

And then, as if he’d said nothing of consequence, his playful tone returned, a sigh escaping his lips as he added, quite melodramatically, even, "But of course, us mere servants won’t get an invite even if we’re the ones doing all the work." He shrugged helplessly, and gave Khobi a two-fingered salute as he turned to leave –but the redhead hurriedly swallowed the remnants of his fifth cake and halted him.

" –Who is he?" he blurted out, his voice hard. And maybe Binny knew without him saying just who he was speaking of, because his shoulders tensed. But just to be sure, he added, more quietly, "...The guy with the glasses. The one who...caught me."

For a moment, it seemed like Binny mightn’t answer.

"vogrid" he finally replied, his tone oddly flat. "He’s a nobleman. Vogrid Vector. His family is old, and wealthy, and respected in these parts, and has been close to the royals for centur –"

"You sound weird," Khobi deadpanned, licking his fingers. Then his eyes narrowed as he had a sudden, mutinous thought. "You scared of him, or something?" His insinuation clearly came through in the abrupt harshness of his tone, but must have been unfounded because Binny let out a soft, reassuring chuckle.

"Never," he breathed, so quiet that Khobi almost didn’t catch it. And maybe he wasn’t meant to.

"He seems strong," he remarked simply, and this time caught the small smile that crossed Binny’s face, even if he’d made an effort to turn away.

"He is," was his reply; straightforward and honest, and maybe with a trace of admiration thrown in there in equal measure, "Seriously."

He’ll give you a run for your money, that’s for sure.

"Good," Khobi decided firmly, taking another cake without further ceremony. Warmth began to simmer in his blood at the very notion as he remembered the careless way he’d been handled –the easy, jaded way the man had avoided his blows and turned aside all his efforts to break free. That would make it so much more satisfying on the day when he landed a blow on that insufferable bastard’s arrogant face. That’d teach him to underestimate him –to belittle him; to make him feel like a fool trying to escape from him.

And maybe Binny had hazarded a little of what he was thinking, because he grinned, wide and honest and with a flash of warmth.

"Hey Khobi?"

"Mmm?"

"I’m really glad you didn’t punch me."

And as the servant slipped out the door with a small smirk and a playful wink, Khobi found himself unconsciously reply, "Me too."