Chapter 380: Nephew.

Chapter 380: Chapter 380: Nephew.

Beyond them, it feels like the training grounds fall silent, and suddenly Khobi can’t breathe.

Can’t speak. All he can do is stare in utter disbelief.

​What ?

​All his captive life he’s been waiting to hear those words, and now that he has he’s not sure he can bring himself to believe them. Because he’s been lied to before, been offered promises of salvation only to be deceived.

Briyagi was cruel like that. Things like trust and hope –things that had always been so precious to his uncle –they were what kept you strong in the darkness, and Silas Luminus knew that.

He also knew how best to strip them away.

​The whips weren’t always what did the breaking. Hope can be such a fragile thing when built on a lie.

All it takes is the truth, and they crumble.

​But this isn’t Briyagi. This King is not Silas Luminus.

And even though Gurdet Hector is someone that Khobi doesn’t trust and who doesn’t trust him, the man standing beside him is a different story.

And when Bongo catches his eye like he was waiting for it, he smiles and offers him a single, reassuring nod.

​Like it’s okay for him to believe.

​And just like that, the cracks begin to appear in Khobi’s expression; hope, brighter and more open than he’s ever let show bleeding through to stain his face, because if what he’s saying in true, then that means that all those years spent believing with all his heart that his uncle was still alive hadn’t been in vain.

​That Khobi had been right to believe all along.

​" –And let me tell you, he was a hard man to find," Gurdet continues lightly, like he hasn’t just completely shattered Khobi’s world. And it probably hadn’t been his intention, but that somehow makes it seem real .

"It’s no wonder –"

​" –Is he okay?" Khobi croaks, the words just spilling off his lips without thinking.

He’s not even sure how he manages to speak; right now it feels like there’s not enough air in the world to ever be enough for him.

Instead of looking irritated by the interruption, Gurdet’s expression softens, like something in the rawness of Khobi’s voice has resonated with him in some way.

​"He’s alive," he replies simply, which isn’t what Khobi asked, but it feels like enough, for now.

A choked breath finally escapes him as the weight he didn’t realise he’d been carrying all these years finally releases it’s grip on Khobi’s chest.

Because hope is something equally fragile and suffocating as it could be empowering; as painful to cling to as it was necessary.

​I knew it .

​"Your aunt, too."

​Legs suddenly unsteady, Khobi sags back against the nearest wall.

It’s funny; he’d always thought that this news would lend him strength, but as it turns out believing so hard and so earnestly and for so long is more exhausting than he’s ever truly realised.

​They’re alive .

​"...Are you all right, Khobi?" Bongo inquires sincerely as Khobi’s eyes sink closed; relief washing over him. All he can do is nod.

​He’s fine.

​Better than he’s been in a long, long time.

​And even though there are so many other things he wants to know; where exactly they are, how did he find them, and wherever they are, are they safe –when he finally finds his voice to ask, Gurdet refuses to answer.

As Khobi had on some level known he wouldn’t.

And as much as he tries to press the issue, because they’re his family , and he deserves to know, he gleans nothing further.

​They’re alive, that’s what matters , is all Gurdet has to say on the matter, and its annoying that he’s right.

​It’s the only thing that matters.

​"...You should know that he wanted to send you a message," Gurdet adds, dry tone implying just what he thinks of fugitives asking such enormous favours of kings they don’t know.

Khobi’s eyes snap open anyways; alight with fresh hope –just in time to catch him reaching into his breast pocket.

​Please .

​"...I’m told that your aunt was quite persuasive."

​A bark of laughter escapes Khobi as Gurdet presents him with a small, unassuming brown envelope.

That sounds like his aunt, all right. And it’s strange but there’s an unfamiliar kind of warmth in the king’s usually cool expression as he takes it; like he is sincerely hoping that whatever it contains is what he’s been wishing for.

It’s a very weird feeling to get from a man who so invariably sets him on edge.

​As best he can tell, it’s still sealed. It’s also terrifyingly light.

​"...He was told to keep it brief in case it was intercepted," Gurdet warns him, as he cracks open the seal. Khobi wants to laugh again but he suddenly doesn’t feel capable of it.

​Brief is fine. Brief is more than fine. Brief is more than anything he could have ever hoped for.

​With a heavy exhale, Khobi unfolds the worn scrap of paper held within.

​It’s tiny; enough to be burned to ashes in a second if there was the risk of it falling into the wrong hands, and holds but a few simple words and a single, clean imprint of a ring left in wax at the bottom of the page.

​Khobi would know that ring anywhere.

Khojin Frost hadn’t taken it off since the day Mozry put it on his finger and decided to keep him hers forever.

​[ Stay safe. I’ll find you. We miss you. ]

​That’s all it says.

​Eight little words.

​But those eight little words are all it takes to make a lump rise high and thick in Khobi’s throat.

He reads them over and over until they blur –first in his uncle’s voice, and then his aunt’s, and then the pair of them together. And with a sudden, overwhelming sense of relief flowing through him, making his chest hurt and his eyes prickle, Khobi leans down to rest his forehead against the paper –so tiny and fragile in his hands –as if out there somewhere in the wild, Khojin Frost might be able to feel it too.

All these years he’s been waiting.

And even though he’s probably still an entire world away from here, this is the closest he’s felt in a lifetime.

​They’re alive.

​"You really found them," he finds himself whispering incredulously.

​"You sound awfully surprised," Gurdet muses flatly, like he’s a little offended by his lack of faith, "I did say that I would, did I not?"

​Loac said you would, too . And he was right.

​He didn’t have to. He was a king and Khobi was his prisoner.

He’d promised, but he’d never owed him a thing.

​(Nephew .)

​( He called me nephew? )