Chapter 42: Hardened Heart, Vile Hostage.

Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Hardened Heart, Vile Hostage.

One of the most unnerving things about his daughter was how much like her father she could be when she put her mind to it.

(Truth be told, it was a trait neither of them were entirely fond of, though for largely different reasons).

So when Gurdet glanced up from his tea to find her analysing him with the same cool eyes that he used on others to pick apart their thoughts and break down their resolve, well, he was equal parts proud and amused. Mostly because he had years of practice over her and was blessed (or otherwise) with an infinitely more devious nature.

"What is it, sweet daughter?" he tittered innocently, smiling pleasantly as she regarded him with utmost suspicion. "...You look troubled."

"Should I be?" she shot back stiffly, "Or are you going to tell me what you’re really up to?"

"Why must I always be up to something?" Imayoshi sighed melodramatically, politely aghast at the accusation –as warranted as it might be, "Really, Xena, it’s impolite to accuse people of such things."

Predictably, she didn’t buy his charade for a moment.

"Mother used to say you were always up to something," she sniffed, reaching for her water glass and shooting him a look over the rim.

"I wouldn’t believe everything your mother used to say," he snorted with a roll of his eyes, "Here I am, trying to be a good host –" A quick glance at Xena’s face told him that she was not in the mood to accommodate his theatrics this morning. "Oh come now," he tutted, less playfully. His daughter could be so moody when she couldn’t figure him out. It was endearing, watching her struggle, but ultimately made her far too difficult to deal with."I thought you’d be thrilled. I’m making an effort with the boy, aren’t I?"

"You’re scheming," she corrected with a soft huff, "It’s not the same thing."

Gurdet just smiled around his cup of tea, and said nothing.

...

Bongo hadn’t needed Vogrid’s curt reminder to know that he should bring Khobi to their king through the quietest and least travelled halls.

He was playing placid today but there was no telling the kind of disasters that might unfold should he chance across the wrong people and Bongo didn’t need a brat to tell him not to tempt fate.

They’d been in luck. The servants had so far done well at keeping their paths clear, and to the captain’s great relief they’d encountered nothing but empty halls.

Which made it somewhat concerning when the singing started.

Well, it was more humming than anything, a light hearted melody popular amongst the lords and ladies of the castle.

It grew louder with every step , echoing too lightly off the high ceilings, and dancing over the balustrades to gambol in the courtyard as they passed it by. It was a pretty place, tucked away amongst the quieter corridors and always peaceful.

There wasn’t a man in the castle who hadn’t asked a young lady to meet with him there, and usually the courtyard was merry with the whispers and soft laughter of lovers.

But right now, by all accounts, the courtyard should have been empty.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case.

Atop the balustrades just up ahead, there was a lone figure reclining easily against a thick stone column. Enthralled by the book in his lap, he seemed blissfully unaware of them, out to the world and paying them no mind as they drew even with him.

And then, midway through turning a page, the humming stopped.

And with the silence came a shift in the air that made the hairs on the back of Khobi’s neck prickle to life.

All of a sudden, something felt off. Gone was the amiable, almost pleasant atmosphere that had reigned over the courtyard but a moment before, a thin tension rising in its place and setting him on edge.

It was heavy, and cold, and when Khobi turned to assess the stranger in their midst –because only dangerous men had this feel about them –he found gold eyes watching him, glinting dark and dangerous.

The book snapped shut.

"Well, well, so the rumours are true," the man mused playfully, brushing a handful of his blonde fringe back off his face as he slipped off his perch with interest –casual, yet so brazenly barring their way that it could only be intentional.

"They’ve actually let the beast out of its cage." He laughed then, like it was the darnedest thing, but there was disdain, not mirth, to the sound and it made Khobi’s expression curdle and sent his hackles rising. "...And without a leash?"

"...What’d you say?" Khobi snarled, hands curling into fists at his sides. If it weren’t for the sudden weight of Bongo’s hand on his shoulder he would’ve started forward, but the captain’s grip was tight with warning –ordering him to do nothing but endure the sly smirk sent his way.

"My mistake," he amended smugly, golden gaze flickering meaningfully from Khobi to the captain standing only a pace behind. Khobi liked the insinuation about as much as he liked the look of this guy.

From his gleaming silver clothes to the lilt of his voice he seemed to be a lordling of sorts, fair and tall –but from what Khobi had come to know of such noble-borns, they were soft and spoilt and hid behind all the bravado that gold could buy –and this one felt different.

This one, though not lacking in the easy arrogance of a noble, had a hardness to his face that Khobi knew the dangers of and was rather well-acquainted with himself.

The look of a man with something to prove.Interesting. Matters of pride were certainly something that he understood. And he wasn’t one to turn away a man if he was an idiot enough to come looking for a fight.

Bongo seemed to know at least that much about him, and quickly cut in before the situation could escalate."We don’t want trouble," he informed him, politely yet insistently gesturing for the young man to step aside.

If there was a warning hidden there somewhere, the little lord didn’t hear, or opted to ignore it, because he made no move to do as he was bid.

"Funny," he simpered almost playfully, though there was an edge to his tone that said quite the contrary, as he nodded in Khobi’s direction, "From what my father says, that’s all he’s been after since he’s arrived."

" –Hey! You lookin’ for a fight, or something?" Khobi growled dangerously, edging forwards as much as Bongo’s grip on him would allow.

"Hmm? Maybe I am," the guy replied, and although his shrug was noncommittal there was a challenging smirk twitching up at the corners of his mouth –the kind of smirk that Khobi knew he’d no doubt rather enjoy punching off his pretty face.

"There’s no need for violence," Bongo ordered flatly, firmly wheeling Khobi away from the confrontation and sending a look of warning towards the blonde.

"If you’ll excuse us, my Lord," he added pointedly, though the title now seemed perfunctory rather than respectful, "We’re late."The man still didn’t step aside, but at the very least he made no move to stop them when Bongo resumed ushering Khobi down the corridor.

Instead, he just stood there, watching them go, hands in his pockets as though there had been nothing all that interesting about their brief encounter.But just when Bongo thought that maybe, for once, the kid wasn’t going to channel his father, he spoke, and that hope was abruptly dashed.

"I have to say, I’m disappointed."It was an obvious challenge, the way his voice rang through the corridor so clear and loud. It was meant to steal their attention, and meant to make them stop dead in their tracks, and it did exactly that.

And when Khobi flung a guarded glare back over his shoulder, the blonde was idling where they’d left him, humming to himself as he traced a pattern on the pillar closest to him.

"I came out here expecting to see the ’beast’ that’s been terrorising the castle," he explained condescendingly, though he might as well have been ignoring Khobi entirely, "But I have to say, you’re hardly the monster I’ve been hearing about."It didn’t sound like a compliment. In fact, it sounded quite the opposite.

And what he said next –like he was both laughing at, and pitying him –made Khobi’s skin crawl."Loac’s gonna eat you alive."And then, almost as an afterthought, he added haughtily, voice dripping with disdain, "If you even make it past me, that is.

"Khobi’s blood warmed, the heat rising up against the other man’s ice with a vengeance. Bongo’s warning grip on his shoulder tightened, but Khobi ignored it as he wheeled to face off against the brat of a noble who dared condescend to him.

It was chilling, the expression he was wearing.Calculated. Proud....And so dangerously assured. That kind of unwavering confidence set Khobi’s hackles rising, because that kind of flagrant arrogance was a luxury afforded only to the truly strong.

"Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you threatened to kill me," the man chirped, in the low tone of a man with a chip on his shoulder and a score to settle. "...And maybe I could’ve forgiven that," he hummed, sounding almost bored.

Indignant, even. And suddenly Khobi was struck with a cold sense of déjà vu as those gold eyes swept over him without fear. "...But you held a knife to my throat, and embarrassed me in front of my father and the king. So I intend to return the favour."

And suddenly things started to make sense –like why this guy felt vaguely familiar when Khobi avoided having dealings with nobles, and why he was calling him out like there was unfinished business between them.

And most of all (it had bothered him at the time, but there had been more concerning matters at hand) –why the pretty, golden-haired noble he’d taken as a hostage some long nights ago, had been so unafraid of him.The guy seemed to see the recognition in Khobi’s face for what it was, and smiled.