Chapter 227 - 225: Sulking Prince.

Chapter 227: Chapter 225: Sulking Prince.

Never mind, he’ll find time to make some more.

And get Binny to hide it again, but somewhere else this time because Loac had seen where he’d tucked away the last ones.

​" –Hey, don’t skimp," Loac growls thickly, as Khobi goes to deal out one each for the servants who have taken time out of their evening to lend him a hand.

The ones they’ve made a smaller, on account of their hands being half the size of his.

"The deal was for a whole batch."

​"Unlike you, they helped," Khobi deadpans, and makes sure the servants each get one of the bigger ones, Loac be damned.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty." Surprisingly, Loac doesn’t press the issue, and it occurs to Khobi how oddly unconcerned the servants are by Loac’s presence here.

That’s not to say they’re relaxed , because as far as Khobi can tell, no one in the castle is completely at ease in Loac’s presence, not even his own family, but considering how jumpy they usually are around the castle nobility, they don’t seem overly wary of him or alarmed by his being there.

​(He thinks back to Loac so casually rifling through the cupboards, and how quickly a new drink had materialised when he’d asked for it, and wonders how much time he spends down here.)

​Khobi smacks his hand again when he goes to grab one straight off the fire. He really should just let him burn himself, but it’s force of habit.

​"Could I grab one of those, too?" he asks one of the nearby servants, pointing at the mug in Loac’s hand.

He doesn’t often drink while he cooks but it smells quite good and he feels as though he’s earned it.

She nods and scurries away, returning only moments later with an identical mug as he sinks down into a stool.

He has no idea where it’s appeared from, but it’s cold and not too sweet and he’s so thirsty he downs half of it in one go.

For some reason that makes Loac snicker into his drink.

​Straight from the fire the bread is piping hot and thick, delicious smelling steam wafts off them as Khobi carefully stacks them on a plate to cool.

​Loac fidgets, eyes narrowed; clearly wanting to reach for them.

But this time he waits to be given the all clear, which is something at least.

​"...Fine, they’re ready," Khobi finally states, and resignedly pushes the plate across the bench towards Loac.

"Knock yourself out. I hope they’re good."

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his envy, and it comes out sounding like the sore loser he most certainly is.

Loac makes a casual grab for the one closest to him and makes a big show of turning it over in his hands before going in for a bite.

Delicious smelling juices immediately leak out of the bread, rolling down his chin and spilling into his hand, and Khobi’s stomach rumbles as he licks it off his lips then sucks his fingers clean.

It feels oddly indecent to watch, and when Loac glances across at him, tongue running along his wrist and then up the length of his thumb, Khobi is mildly horrified at how his throat runs dry.

​The ale doesn’t help at all. He finishes it anyway.

​Loac raises an eyebrow, peering down at the steaming plate stacked high in front of him and then across at Khobi.

After a moment he sighs, and looks away as he nudges the plate back towards him.

​It feels like a trick, so Khobi folds his arms and looks away, sulking.

​"Like you said, the deal was a whole batch," he grumbles stubbornly, and Loac rolls his eyes.

​"Yeah, and I’m lettin’ you have one," he replies, just as stubbornly, and starts on another one.

It’s just as messy as the first. Khobi doesn’t look this time, but that doesn’t stop him from hearing it.

His voice is muffled –mouth clearly full, although it’s hard to know if it’s stuffed with food or his fingers –as he adds, "You were drooling."

​(The heat at the back of his neck is from the hearth behind him. It has to be.)

​" I was not. "

​Loac shrugs, like it’s all the same to him, and makes a big show of dragging the plate back towards himself.

​"Well, if you don’t want one then –"

​"...I didn’t say that –" So maybe it’s not a trick, then.

So before he can take it back, Khobi whips a hand out and snatches one off the plate; immediately shoving it into his mouth.

The same thing happens to him –meaty juices dribbling everywhere –and he winds up having to clean up his hands with his tongue the same way Loac had.

The meat inside is even more delicious than it smells, and he lets out a soft sigh of appreciation as he chews.

It’s a shame to waste the rest of them on Loac, but a deal’s a deal.

​And he did let him have one.

​But from the way he’s ploughing through his plate, it’s pretty clear that he has no intention of offering him a second.

So with a sigh of resignation, and the weariness from the day’s training starting to take root, Khobi stuffs the rest of his snack into his mouth, wiping away the mess on his chin with the back of his hand and finishing it off with his tongue. It’s too good to waste.

Halfway through polishing up his fingers, Khobi feels eyes on him and pauses, glancing across the table to find Loac’s gaze trained on him.

​"What?" he demands, and finishes the job.

​Loac just takes another bread and moodily ducks his gaze.

​"Nothin’," He says, for not the first time that day.

​Khobi’s not sure what the guy has to sulk about.

​"Fine, be like that," he declares, and his chair skids across the stone as he stands.

He always makes sure his hands and face are squeaky clean before he works in the kitchen, but the rest of him is in desperate need of some soap, "I need a bath."