Chapter 338: A Favour.

Chapter 338: Chapter 338: A Favour.

Hovering at the stable doors, Vogrid clears his throat.

​"Your Highness," he interjects, and Montrel tries to withhold a sigh, because even though he know this is how things work but is he honestly never going to get to just enjoy a moment alone with the princess? "Remember the afternoon tea you father requested that you –"

​" –I remember," the princess assures him, turning away just enough that he won’t be able to see her roll her eyes. "I’m coming, don’t worry."

​It’s always disappointing when she has to go.

​"...And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you invited me for a ride, Montrel," she remarks reproachfully as she starts to pick her way back towards the entrance.

For a princess she doesn’t really seem to mind the mucky floor, "When the snows melt I expect you to follow through."

​That can only be a good sign, right? That she’ll still want to see him when the snows have melted?

​"Of course, Your Highness," he assures her, and then frowns when she abruptly tuts .

​"So formal," she chides, giving him a soft smile, "Please; Xena is just fine."

​Is it?

​Is it really?

​Montrel wonders if this is something he should be checking with Jaga.

Because Vogrid is certainly looking even more constipated than usual. Which is saying something.

​"Uh, if you say so," Montrel says anyways, "...Xena." She’s the one who insisted, but she still blushes, and gives him a little wave as she takes her leave; Vogrid and her two handmaidens falling into step just behind her.

​"...What do you think, girl?" Montrel absent-mindedly asks of his horse as he leans up against her stall.

Come to think of it, his own face is feeling kind of warm, too, "...Do you like her?"

​The mare whinnies, and he chuckles as she nudges her nose into his chest.

​"Yeah," he decides softly, "...Me too."

​" –Hey, Montrel ." Not having realised that there was anyone else still in here with him, Montrel leaps out of his skin when his name comes out of nowhere.

And when he whirls, who should be come face to face with but Loac, casually lounging up against a post like he hasn’t just scared the life out of him.

​"Dammit Loac , how long have you been there?" Montrel growls hotly, desperately hoping he hadn’t overheard anything embarrassing.

​"Long enough."

​Shit .

​"...Well, what do you want?" he grumbles defensively, because it’s really not like Loac to just approach him out of nowhere.

And he’s proven correct when Loac’s eyes darken. It’s hard to explain, but he suddenly gets the strangest sense that he’s going to regret asking.

​"A favour ."

...

The damage to Khobi’s knee is by no means serious and after giving it only a few more days’ rest there’s no sign it was ever injured to begin with.

Not that you’d know that from the way Khobi carries on for the grand total of seven days he’s sentenced to watch from the sidelines.

With how despondently he’s been wallowing on the fenceline; gaze wistful and full of longing, he may as well have been told he’d never fight again.

So it comes as some relief to all parties when the day finally comes that he makes it all the way to breakfast without his knee giving him trouble –one more attempt to throw himself in the ring and the soldiers probably would’ve mutinied and gotten Drogger to bar him from the training grounds.

Only yesterday Rogard had caught his knee wobbling and had to haul him away from the fence by the scruff of his shirt.

​There have been no such wobbles today; Khobi’s already checked and triple checked, and even raced Loac down to the mess hall for breakfast just to make sure.

He didn’t win but it’s fine; he’s getting in that ring today, and he’ll get his vengeance then. And then some, to make up for all that he’s missed.

​As enthralling as Loac is to watch, it just doesn’t compare to being in the ring with him; not just weathering his eternal storm but revelling in, then conquering it.

​(Nothing compares.)

​It’s been the longest week of Khobi’s life in recent memory, and as such he’s been rearing to go since the moment he woke up.

It shows, too; he finishes his breakfast in record time –an impressive feat, considering his reputation for wolfing down anything set in front of him –and when he doesn’t even start trying to scrounge for seconds, Gandy flashes him a shit-eating smirk and gives Loac a nudge with his elbow.

​" –Better look out Captain; Khobi’s got it in for you today," he snickers around a mouth full of breakfast, grin only widening when Khobi doesn’t bother correcting him.

He’s right, after all, and everyone who’s spent more than five seconds in the training grounds over the last week knows it. There’s no proof, but Khobi has a sneaking suspicion there’s been gold changing hands around who goes down first.

They’ve gotten sneakier about it since he started holding grudges against anyone who bet against him.

​"Oh man, Montrel’s gonna be so mad he’s on watch today," Gandy continues, and it’s not entirely clear which of them he’s talking to when he adds, "He was looking forward to seeing you get knocked on your ass."

​Khobi gets the distinct feeling that Montrel’s not all fussy that funny as long as someone’s getting knocked around that isn’t him.

As much as he enjoys watching Loac get smacked around the ring for a change, that never seems to stop him from laughing whenever Khobi gets his ass handed to him.

And actually, speaking of Montrel –

​" –Ah shit ," Khobi abruptly curses, expression falling so comically that the soldiers immediately look alarmed; so looking forward to finally getting back to training, he’d completely forgotten,

"...Montrel asked me to feed his horse."

​"...He did, did he?" Loac muses, and while there’s something vaguely off about his tone, Khobi’s too busy being kicked in the shin under the table to catch it.

​"Hey, don’t make that face!" Gandy complains, "You had me thinking it was something serious for a second!"

​Doesn’t Gandy understand? This is serious.