Chapter 83: New Room.

Chapter 83: Chapter 83: New Room.

Unfortunately for Khobi, the sudden revelation that Rogard has decided that they’re now friends, isn’t the worst or most confusing part of his evening.

"Huh?" he frowns, and tries the door again. It doesn’t budge. "It won’t open." Which is pretty weird, seeing as it had worked perfectly fine when he’d left this morning.

"What do you mean it won’t open?" Binny inquires curiously, leaning on the door frame as Khobi wrestles with the door handle in an unsuccessful bid to wrench the thing open. It rattles in its hinges a little, but that’s about it.

"I mean --" Khobi growls, aiming a half-hearted kick at the wood, for all the good it’ll do, " --It won’t open ."

"... I think you’ll find ," a cool voice interrupts, as he’s about to go for another kick, " That it won’t ." It’s accompanied by the distinct jangle of a set of keys, and Khobi looks up, mid-swing.

"Oh, it’s you," he deadpans, and doesn’t bother trying to disguise his irritation. The guy’s presence just rubs him completely the wrong way, for some reason. "Haven’t seen you around for a while."

"Believe me," Vector Vogrid sniffs coldly, and pointedly pockets his ring of keys, "I have better things to do than mind you."

Ah, that’s why.

"Binny, does this guy always have such a stick up his ass?" Khobi drawls, and misses the way Binny winces.

"Permission to uh, not answer that, Khobi?" he chuckles, quieter than he usually would, and that about answers his question.

"...That’s what I thought," he snorts, folding his arms across his chest in a way that’s bordering on confrontational. "What do you want? Why’s my room locked?"

"It’s locked, because it’s no longer your room," Vogrid replies simply, adjusting his glasses on his nose, unsmiling. "I’ve been ordered to direct you to your new quarters."

"A new room?" Khobi complains, because he’s lost count of how many rooms he’s been cycled through now. It’s getting ridiculous. "What? Another one?"

"Another one," Vogrid says dryly, and sounds equally inconvenienced. "His Majesty insists."

" Why ? What’s wrong with this room?" Khobi groans, as Vogrid turns his back on them in a way that clearly means he intends for them to follow.

Well, for Khobi to follow. He hasn’t so much as glanced in Binny’s direction during the entire exchange. Which wouldn’t be unusual except that Khobi’s used to nobles openly disapproving of how casually he talks around Binny. And how casually Binny talks around him.

Khobi would really rather not follow him, but considering that he doesn’t have anywhere to go now, and his previous lack of success when fighting the guy, he’s pretty sure he’s not meant to have much choice in the matter.

So he goes, but it’s with visible reluctance because past experience has taught him that this guy being involved can mean nothing good.

Binny has a similarly bad feeling. You hear things, when you’re a servant --things others aren’t privvy to, and things yet to come to pass --and if the whispers going around are anything to go by, Khobi’s not going to like this one bit.

And that’s putting it lightly.

It wouldn’t be fair to say that Khobi overreacts. Considering how regularly it seems to happen, Binny’s never really enjoyed walking in on people having sex either.

And considering that the person they happen to walk in on is probably the last person in the castle that Khobi would want to walk in on, well, honestly, the door slamming is justified. Vogrid even lets the cursing slide.

" Fuck no," he declares vehemently, jabbing a finger at the quivering door and the lecherous scene that lies beyond, ears still ringing from the shrill, scandalised shriek of the woman who they’d burst in on in the throes of passion. "Fuck no ."

Vogrid considers his compelling argument for a moment before pointedly pushing the door open again, just as a partially dressed and fully crimson woman comes streaking out with her eyes cast down in embarrassment and clothes haphazardly gathered around her to preserve a shred of modesty.

It’s a small mercy that Vogrid ignores her.

"You’re fucking with me, right?" Khobi growls, because even though Vogrid doesn’t seem the type, there’s no way this isn’t some kind of sick joke. But those green eyes are nothing but serious.

"Loac," Vogrid calls into the room, by way of answer, addressing the tangle of sheets strewn across the bed. The name sounds sour on his tongue.

"Make yourself decent. You have a guest." He pauses a moment to consider the scene they’ve just interrupted, then adds, "...Another one."

"...I’m busy," comes the irritated, dismissive growl from somewhere under the bedclothes.

"Clearly," is Vogrid’s withering response.

"...I was ."

"Pardon the intrusion," he says, belatedly and somewhat lacking in sincerity, "I’m sure you’ll find someone else to defile." His eyes briefly glance Khobi’s way, and he doesn’t much care for the implication.

"...Don’t take this the wrong way, Vogrid," Loac drawls, matching Vogrid’s tone as he sits up at the edge of the bed, doing nothing about the indecent way the sheets pool around his hips.

It’s a stark contrast, pristine white against dusky, gleaming brown, and draws the eye more than Khobi likes, "But you definitely need to get laid."

Khobi’s never seen the colour drain from someone’s face so fast. One of his eyebrows twitches, and although his expression is full of thunder, he doesn’t lose his composure.

"...If you say so, My Lord." The words force themselves off his tongue, and look like they physically pain him to say. It’s a show of deference --if a hollow one --that would fill most nobles with glee, but if anything it just seems to irritate Loac further.

For not the first time, it strikes Khobi as odd that for someone who seems incapable of keeping it in his pants, there’s not even a residual glimmer of heat in his eyes.

His partners --because for fuck’s sake, he’s starting to lose count of how many times this has happened --they’ve always given themselves over to passion. But not Loac.

Khobi’s sure he’s seen those blue eyes burning, but right now, they look so hollow, and cold that it’s almost impossible to imagine a spark igniting behind them.

He realises, too late, that he’s been staring.

Worse, he’s been caught staring.

Loac’s not looking at Vogrid anymore.

"What’s with him?" he asks lowly, blue gaze hooded and shamelessly centered on Khobi. The sheets slip dangerously low as he runs a hand back through his hair, and he makes no move to fix them.

"His Majesty instructed me to escort Prince Khobi to his new room," Vogrid explains stonily, unimpressed by his prince’s obnoxious preening and unperturbed by the ominous aura looming behind him.

"So what’s he here for?" Loac asks flatly, and makes no attempt to disguise the way his eyes rake down Khobi’s body and then make the slow, arduous trek back to his face. "...This is my room."

Khobi’s often been accused of not being particularly sharp. Apparently, neither is Prince Loac.

"...And now it’s his room, too," Vogrid says simply, and Loac’s attention abruptly snaps away from Khobi’s broad chest and back to him.

"You’re joking," he deadpans, despite how uncomfortably clear it is that Vogrid doesn’t joke.

"His Majesty insists."

"Of course he does," Loac scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Tch, I thought it wasn’t proper to share a room before marriage."

"...To preserve virtue , Loac," Vogrid explains icily, "And forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe that’s strictly necessary, in your case."

As if his stony expression wasn’t proof enough of just how serious he is, he steps aside and gestures stiffly for Khobi to enter. "He’s here to stay," he declares, and that’s final. "Make him welcome."

From the way a smirk stretches slow and lewd across Loac’s face, he seems to like the sound of that.

"...Oh, I will."

He licks his lips, and Khobi’s immediately done.

"I’m not living here," he declares vehemently, and backs away from the doorway, only to bump directly into Binny.

"That’s something you’ll have to take up with His Majesty," Vogrid informs him simply, and when Khobi tries to duck around Binny, the servant moves to block him.

"Seriously?" Khobi deadpans, but Binny just shrugs, like it can’t be helped. For what it’s worth, he looks sorry about it. "Fine then, take me to him."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Khobi says flatly, and folds his arms to show he’s not going anywhere except straight to the king to sort this nightmare out.

"It’s late," Vogrid reminds him stiffly, and with obvious reluctance, "His Majesty is --"

"I don’t care." If Vogrid won’t take him, he’s going to find the king himself, if he has to search every single room in this damn castle.

At the very least, Vogrid seems to understand that.

And he does not seem pleased about it at all.

"What are you waiting for, Vogrid?" Loac snickers from the bed, smirking belligerently like he’s immensely enjoying the bespectacled man’s discomfort, "The man wants to see Gurdet."

The glare Vogrid sends him is entirely disrespectful.

"...Very well," he finally relents, though not without visible reluctance. "As you...as you wish."