Chapter 213 - 211: Sulking .

Chapter 213: Chapter 211: Sulking .

Even Binny looks comically bewildered.

​"If I win you make me some," he proposes, and waves a hand towards the end of the hallway, "I’ll even give you a headstart.

Since you obviously need it." A vein twitches in Khobi’s brow.

​"What, you mean right now ?" he exclaims, and Loac just shrugs.

​"Why not?"

​Why not ?

​Always a compelling argument.

​"...Did you not hear what that guy --y’know, your uncle the king --just said?" Khobi growls, jerking his thumb back in the direction they’ve just come from.

In the direction of the king who’d summoned him just to explicitly tell him not to do anything stupid.

Like, for example, getting goaded into a foot race against the same person he’s just gotten in trouble for having a destructive foot race with.

Loac just raises an eyebrow, and the edge of his mouth curls up into the beginnings of a wicked grin.

​"Yeah. And ?"

​And indeed.

​Since when has Khobi cared for the threats of kings?

​And even though training was as tough as ever today and he’s just eaten, he likes his chances.

​He’s fine as long as they don’t break anything, right?

​"Fine, but you can keep your headstart," he decides, and rolls his shoulders to see how well he can move in this stupid outfit. It’s not too bad.

He can always toss it if it weighs him down. Binny, looking on helplessly, seems torn between feeling obliged to try and stop them, and desperately wanting to let it play out.

​"I’ll beat you fair and square."

...

It’s a good thing that the kitchens aren’t swarming with servants, because the few who are there to bear witness when two giant shadows unceremoniously burst in on them look absolutely traumatised .

​Khobi gasps, doubled over and using the doorway to prop himself up.

There’s sweat dripping through his hair down into his eyes and his lungs and legs and throat are asbsolutely burning.

Loac, panting heavily with his head thrown back against the stone wall across from him, thankfully looks no better.

​They weren’t exactly subtle but they didn’t break a single object on their way here.

​Their clothes, however, are a completely different story. But there were no rules about that.

Khobi’s fancy shirt is stained with sweat and tearing at the seams, and one of Loac’s sleeves is missing and his collar is torn so wide his shirt hangs open.

It had made a positively dreadful sound when it had ripped; Khobi’s fingers curling into it to drag Loac away from the lead.

​In the dying orange light of the hearths, the pair of them make for quite the sight.

​" Hah~ what...took you so long...to get here?" Loac heaves, shirt hanging off his shoulders in tatters to leave his dark-skinned chest bare and on display, glistening with sweat in the firelight.

​"What...are you... talking about?" Khobi bites back with a glare, forcing out the words even as his lungs fight for air, "I...was here... first ."

​For being the kitchens, it’s oddly quiet, and when they both turn to look with sweat streaking into their burning eyes, the servants are staring at them, still.

​"Well?" Loac demands of the room, at the same time Khobi growls, "Which of us was it?"

​Wordlessly, the baffled servants slowly point towards Khobi.

​" Yes !" he howls, punching a fist into the sky and whirling on Loac, victorious. "I fucking told you. Who’s the slow one now ?"

​But his triumph is short lived, because Loac isn’t even looking at him; doesn’t even give him the satisfaction by glowering back at him.

Instead, he’s got his jaw set and shoulders cowed as he resolutely stares down the floor.

​It almost looks like he’s... sulking ?

​Incredulous, Khobi looks a little closer; sees the balled up fists and the downturn of his mouth and realises that that’s exactly what he’s doing.

​And over what? Losing a race? Not getting his way?

​Unbelievable .

Gods, he can’t even let him savour one win, can he?

​And dammit, he’s gone and gotten himself all sweaty again for no good reason.

And he’s already had a bath tonight. He still hasn’t figured out how to actually go about summoning Binny; he just seems to spring out of nowhere whenever Khobi’s not expecting him.

No doubt he’ll be conveniently tied up with other business now that he actually needs him for something.

​Dragging a hand down his face and grimacing as it comes away sweaty, Khobi hobbles on unsteady legs towards the spot Binny had secretly stowed the last of his most recent batch –the ones that Loac hadn’t pilfered or had thrown at him.

Now that he’s here, he might as well have a snack, and he’s surprised by how hungry their race has left him, considering it hadn’t been anywhere near as long or as far as his usual sprints through the castle.

​Those aren’t usually against Loac, though. And it’s different when faced with a tangible and terrifying opponent breathing down your neck.

Racing the dawn is fine and all, but the dawn doesn’t fight back; it doesn’t chase you back. It doesn’t bear down on you and spur you on.

He’s been finding that sparring with him; that the only options when facing him down are to push himself or be left behind. That’s just the kind of pressure Loac exerts over him.

​It’s hardly a bad thing.

​Isn’t that what he’s been waiting for, after all?

​It had been a good run this time, too. All his time spent training must be paying off; his body feels hot but not on the brink of collapse.

And he hadn’t fallen this time –had judged the flights of stairs better and had been ready for the bone shattering impact upon landing.

He’d still been unable to completely shake him; Loac was fast and agile, and always managed to be just ahead or just behind or right beside him, up in his space or on his heels no matter how much they grappled for position or dragged each other back or slung each other around and into corners.

He’ll have a gnarly bruise tomorrow from being hip checked into a sharp corner, but it’s some consolation that Loac will have a matching one from where Khobi did the same thing to him the next chance he got.