Chapter 446 - 447: Scars .

Chapter 446: Chapter 447: Scars .

​"I know," he replies softly, and surprises them both by returning her embrace.

"I saw."

​Once she peels away, reaching for her borrowed handkerchief again, Montrel too, comes up to him.

Gurdet gives him a cool look, noticing the casual way his hand falls to Xena’s back as he comes up beside her but deciding not to comment because his daughter seems to appreciate it.

And how, as a father, can he in good conscience, fault the man for wanting to comfort and support her?

​Gurdet has a terrible feeling he’s going to be overlooking an awful lot more from now on in the name of keeping his daughter’s smile.

​"I know it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me," Montrel prefaces –always a bad way to start a sentence –but then he abruptly drops into the deepest, crispest bow Gurdet’s ever seen from him. "...But for Khobi’s sake, thank you, Your Highness.

Really. Thank you ."

​For not the first time that evening, Gurdet is somewhat alarmed to find himself feeling oddly touched.

And there’s suddenly a very strange lump in his throat that doesn’t vanish when he tries to swallow, as he realises that h is children have both found themselves good men, haven’t they? All on their own.

​...

​Khobi’s not sure he’s ever been to this part of the castle; it’s still strange to him how for a castle with so many inhabitants there are still so many corridors and floors that occasionally feel absolutely deserted.

Bongo knows the way though, and even though Mozry and Khojin keep their hoods up the whole way, not a single soul passes them by. He doesn’t put them back in chains, for which Khobi is grateful, but it doesn’t escape his notice that Bongo has them walk on ahead, and keeps one hand on his sword and both eyes trained on them the whole time. Just in case.

​He requests that Khobi keep a pace behind him, probably for the same reason. Which at first strikes Khobi as a little strange, because once upon a time he would have used his turned back as an excuse to reach for his sword.

There are three of them and only one of him. Khobi’s never seen Bongo fight for real, but he’s sure that they would be able to overpower him.

They’d be able to take his blade, leave him for dead, and vanish off into the night like they’d never even been here.

And maybe Khojin’s waiting for exactly that; from this angle he can’t quite see his face so it’s hard to tell.

​Maybe on some level Bongo’s expecting them to try, and trusting him not to.

​Once upon a time, that would have been foolish. But times are different now, and something stays Khobi’s hand.

​"Please excuse the lock," Bongo apologises, when he finally slows and reaches into his pocket for a key. "His Majesty would prefer for you to remain in your room for the time being."

​"I wouldn’t expect anything less," Khojin says, not without a chuckle. There’s no sign that he’s disappointed that they’ve made it this far; nothing in his expression to give away that he’d been planning a thing, "We are his prisoners, after all."

​To Khobi’s surprise, Bongo chuckles, too. "Indeed."

​For what has been established as essentially a prison cell, it’s a seriously nice one; spacious and modestly furnished, with a large bed covered in furs and a sitting area with hot tea and treats freshly laid out like there have been servants in here recently.

There are candles and paintings lining the walls and the shutters are flung wide to give a breathtaking view of the evening sky over the castle walls and the plains beyond.

There’s even a small fire burning in the hearth, and the door to the adjacent bathroom is ajar just enough that Khobi can see steam creeping through.

​"Captain, this is very generous," Khojin admits, eyes blown a little wide with the luxury he’s been presented with. "I have to say, it’s not exactly what I was expecting."

​"I hope it’s to your liking," Bongo shrugs, "Despite the unfortunate reality of our relationship with Briyagi, I know his Majesty would appreciate if you considered yourselves his guests for the duration of your stay."

Khobi has to wonder at the phrasing; it really makes it sound like Bongo doesn’t want anything to do with Briyagi.

​He knew there was a reason he liked him.

​"I’m staying with them," he tells him, hoping that that’s not something that he’s about to be told is against the rules, because if it is then they’re gonna have a problem.

But Bongo just chuckles again and smiles, and tells him that that was always the intention.

​"Take as long as you like," he says, and Khobi heaves a sigh of relief, "I’ll be right outside if you need anything."

​The moment the door closes behind them and the lock slides home, Khojin and Mozry are both at his side, fussing and checking him over in ways they hadn’t dared when they were in company.

​Are you all right, they ask again; more urgently, like they’re worried he lied the first time and need him to know that he doesn’t have to lie anymore. Not to them.

That if these people here hurt him in any way then they will pay for what they’ve done. And Khobi tells them again, assures them over and over that he’s fine, they haven’t hurt him, really, truly, and then squawks when Mozry’s prodding finds the bruises on his ribs and the ones on his back and the old scars on his hands and forearms from training.

They don’t believe him, not when there’s evidence to the contrary, but he tells them that it’s not like that; that there are good men here, and tugs his collar a little higher so that Mozry won’t see the dark marks that are there too.

But it’s too late, she’s definitely already seen.