Chapter 379: Good News.

Chapter 379: Chapter 379: Good News.

Since the weather turned miserable, training and the grounds themselves had become a lot more sparse.

Some days the energy had felt like summer again, but others it hadn’t been too unusual to discover only handfuls of lonely soldiers scattered across the field, with even fewer actually out at their drills.

Some men got into bad habits without Drogger’s disapproving eye looming sharp and heavy over them at all times.

​But today it’s like the warmth of the sun has finally drawn them all home to roost.

​Or rather, to curb them of such bad habits.

​Today the training grounds are packed like they haven’t been packed in months; a shapeless, tideless sea of sweat and sound.

​It’s just like the first time Khobi ever saw it.

​With one key difference.

​It doesn’t make any sense how effortlessly Khobi can pick him out; how in a veritable sea of chaos, the wind carries his gaze across so many faces and inexplicably comes to rest on Loac’s.

If he was fighting, he’d understand, because the way Loac fights carries both a weight and a weightlessness that stands out above the rest; that draws the eye the same way motion against a still horizon draws the eye.

But he’s not fighting.

He’s just hanging there on the fence of one of the sparring rings talking to Rogard –their usual sparring ring.

​And distantly it occurs to Khobi that he looked there first, hoping he’d be there.

​Gurdet moves forwards into the space beside him, following Khobi’s line out sight out towards the training grounds.

Instinctively, Khobi shifts his gaze, and Gurdet says nothing that would indicate that he’s seen just where it had lingered.

​"...Beautiful day, isn’t it?" he remarks conversationally, finally breaking the silence. The question feels rhetorical; Khobi doesn’t think he brought him out here just to talk about the weather.

Although, considering the king’s reputation and Khobi’s previous and overwhelmingly negative interactions with him, maybe he has. "The spring thaws came early this year, apparently." Khobi’s not sure that’s meant to mean anything to him, but Gurdet’s looking at him like it should.

​"...Do you know what that means?" he prompts somewhat patronisingly, peering at him over his glasses.

​"...Uh, that it’s spring?" Khobi guesses, and while his answer makes Gurdet chuckle, the mirth quickly turns dry as he amends, "I meant for you ."

​What?

​For him?

​"...You’re getting married , remember?"

Gurdet remarks dryly, "To my nephew?"

​"Oh," Khobi replies, tone immediately deflating. That . "...I remember."

​Actually, he’d almost kind of forgotten that that was something that had to happen.

Not entirely, because his friends joked about it all the time –more, now that Montrel was actively in with a shot at getting married himself –but it always felt like that’s all it was.

A joke. Even before this... whatever it is that’s going on between them, they all liked to poke fun at him by referring to Loac as his betrothed, or his fiance, or –worst of all, and one of Rogard’s absolute favourites –his dearly beloved .

But it was all just words –things they’d say to get a rise out of him. It had never felt real , because marriage was for people like his aunt and uncle, or Rogard and Drogger, and those kinds of words were reserved for people who... chose them .

And more importantly, Loac’s never felt like his betrothed . Not that Khobi would know what a betrothed is even meant to feel like.

Softer? Easier, maybe? Really, he has no idea. He’s never really thought about it.

But if he had to put a name to it, Loac’s always felt more like...an adversary. A rival .

Maybe even a friend; when he wasn’t being a shit.

​But the fact remains that they’re...promised to each other.

Have been, this whole time.

​The thought doesn’t turn his stomach the way it once did, and Khobi isn’t sure what to make of that.

​"Oh good ," Gurdet sighs wryly, like he’s relieved he doesn’t have to walk him through that again. "...Because your wedding date is set for the end of spring."

​" – The end of spring? " Khobi immediately squawks incredulously, because shit , "B-But it’s spring now !"

​In the depths of winter, summer had felt an eternity away.

​It suddenly feels terrifyingly close.

​" Khobi ," Gurdet remarks with a light roll of his eyes, "If this been any other kingdom, you would have been unhappily wed months ago.

The fact that you were not is entirely because my daughter was concerned that the two of you might –how should I put this – kill each other."

​"...Still might," Khobi snorts under his breath, more out of reflex than because he means it.

Loac definitely makes him want to throttle him at the best of times, but it’s not like how it used to be.

​" Indeed ." Where once he might have found that answer concerning, Gurdet now seems to find it amusing.

" Regardless ," he continues airily, "The time has come." From the way he pauses, he’s half expecting Khobi to explode.

Which given his track record is probably a reasonable assumption. And when it doesn’t happen, he seems...somewhat taken aback. Which is a first.

​"What? No rampage?" he inquires, sounding concerningly intrigued by the lack of outrage.

And after a beat, Khobi sighs, planting his elbows upon the stone balcony and leaning his full weight into them as he digests this information.

It’s weird; once upon a time, being forced to marry some stranger in a strange land had felt like a fate worse than death.

​And now...

​Now, he’s not so sure.

​( When did that change ?)

​This place isn’t home, but it’s not so strange; the person he’s promised to not such a stranger.

Sure, he’d always envisioned marrying someone he picked for himself but...

​"...No rampage," he mutters reluctantly, just as surprised. In fact, he’s not even sure he’s angry about it anymore. If anything, it still doesn’t even feel real .

Never really had, because back then , he’d figured there was no way it would ever actually happen .

He’d thought he’d be long gone by this point; he was going to escape and leave this place and its kings and their deals behind him.

​"My, Khobi," Gurdet comments airily, the corners of his lips twitching upwards, "You’ve grown."

​Grown, huh ? Khobi can’t help but think wryly to himself. He’s not so sure about that.

​" –Does this mean I can count on you not savaging my tailor when he comes to visit you?" the king remarks dryly, and then gives him an unimpressed once over when Khobi shoots him a confused look.

He’s not sure what a tailor has to do with anything, let alone why one would be coming to see him.

"This is a royal wedding , Khobi. Whether you like it or not you’re a prince; it won’t kill you to dress like one for a day."

​It sounds like there’s a suggestion in there, but Khobi doesn’t care to hear it.

​"Well?" Gurdet prompts, "Can I count on you to not make this any harder than it needs to be?"

​"...I’ll behave," Khobi snorts, rolling his eyes as he flick at a loose piece of stone.

He’s not sure why the king keeps insisting on having this conversation; his violent tendencies towards the residents of his castle had stopped months ago.

With a few notable exceptions. "...Don’t worry."

​"Oh, I worry ," Gurdet assures him, unconvinced. Khobi’s learned enough about how this castle operates by now that he gets the feeling that Bongo isn’t supposed to find that funny.

"In any case," he muses aloud, "As delightful as this has been, I have other business to attend to."

With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he turns his back on the training grounds, adding offhandedly, "...And I believe you do, too."

​"Uh, what?" He’s got standing plans with Loac later tonight but apart from that, Khobi’s schedule is pretty damn clear.

Gurdet slips him a sidelong glance and then subtly inclines his head down towards the training grounds.

​"Training, as I recall, starts at dawn," he says with a secretive smile, and sends a cursory glance skywards, "I would say that you’re going to be quite late."

​His words make Khobi’s eyes blow wide, his pulse starting to batter down the walls of his chest as a flash of hope sparks up within him.

And he must be losing his touch because where he used to be so good at hiding his heart around kings, Gurdet seems able to read him like a book.

​Does that mean –?

​"...I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson," the king remarks airily, waving away his confusion like it hardly matters to him and making a vague gesture towards the nearby staircase –the one that will carry him down into the training grounds beyond.

"Consider this a show of good faith, nephew."

​Even before he’s finished speaking, Khobi’s making a beeline for the stairs; grin split wide and excited and impatient.

It doesn’t matter one bit that he doesn’t have any of his usual gear and isn’t wearing even a shred of armour.

​Fuck it, he’ll borrow some.

Drogger can chew him out for it later.

Just as he’s about to break into a run though, the king calls out to him once more.

​"...Ah, and one more thing, Khobi," Gurdet says casually, and while usually Khobi might’ve pretended not to hear because usually whatever the king has to say to him can wait, this time there’s something about his tone that makes him slow.

​The words that follow make him stop.

​They make everything stop.

​"I’ve found your uncle."