Chapter 476 - 477: Taking Him Home.

Chapter 476: Chapter 477: Taking Him Home.

He puts the cup down in disgust, and steals one of Loac’s puddings to wash down the taste. All of the sweets set out are good so he could’ve picked anything else, but Loac’s been playing up a lot this morning so this feels like just desserts. And Khobi’s strategically placed himself across the table from him so that if he wants to stop him he’ll have to knock everything flying. Which he looks like he’s got half a mind to do.

The pudding tastes like custard and victory.

He’s only had tea with the princess a couple of times, and never with Loac present, so while it’s kind of weird it’s also...kind of nice. Khobi’s never really spent much of his adult life around women –and particularly not the princessly type –but Xena is surprisingly easy to talk to. It helps that she likes duelling and horses, and when it comes to teasing, Loac lets her get away with a lot that he wouldn’t let any of their other friends get away with. When Khobi first met her, she used to get this kind of sad expression when she talked about him, and Khobi’s glad that she doesn’t anymore.

She gets a little red in the face when Loac echoes Khobi’s question and asks what she’s doing all dressed up for breakfast. But apparently they’re not the ones she’s out to impress; Montrel is taking her for a walk once he’s finished with his morning watch and she wants to look her best for him.

"I’m sure you’ll understand one day, Loac," she makes sure to add, with meaning; tone so light it’s almost cheeky, "...Wanting to look your best for the person you like."

Yeah, Khobi is really, really glad he came for breakfast.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, red is a pretty attractive look on Loac. And while he sulks Xena covertly asks Khobi how his family are doing; if the clothes she brought to them fit all right, and if there’s anything more she can do to make their stay more comfortable. She’d love to make the time to come and sit with them properly. There’s so much she wants to know about them, and about Scargga, and about the lands they’ve visited.

Perhaps an afternoon tea with his aunt would be appropriate, she suggests; lady to lady?

She seems confused as to why that makes Khobi laugh out loud. Sure, his aunt’s a woman, and a queen, but as far as he’s aware she’s never been a lady. But he’s sure that they’d like that. It was pretty nice having dinner with them and Loac the other night, after all, and he never passes up the opportunity for some sweets and cakes. He tells her he’ll ask them, and that they seem happy with the clothes and Khojin has been reading his book every night, but that it seems like they really miss home.

He doesn’t quite catch the way her smile wanes just slightly when he says that.

Nor does he notice that after he does, Loac doesn’t eat another bite.

...

Now that the time has finally come for Gurdet to grace his most secret guests with a personal audience, they seem a little surprised to see him.

"I invited you here, did I not?" Gurdet reminds them cordially, and while Khojin’s pleasant expression doesn’t fade, he catches a glimpse of something sharp glinting there behind his gentle eyes.

"You say that like we could have declined."

Gurdet smiles. It’s nice to know that he gets it.

"May I?"

"Do we have a choice?" Khojin inquires easily, and obligingly steps aside to allow him to enter. All disingenuous smiles, Gurdet offers him and his wife a courteous nod as Bongo follows him inside. It looks like the pair of them have been having breakfast, but now that they have company they seem on edge. Understandable, he supposes.

...

"No Khobi this morning?" Gurdet prefaces conversationally, as Khojin welcomes him to take a seat at their table; one king to another. Perhaps that’s for the best. He’d been hoping to speak to the pair of them alone.

A little comfort has just done the two of them such a world of good in only a short span of time. Some of the colour has come back to their faces. Khojin’s shaved, and Mozry has combed a couple of the matts from her hair. On the surface, they no longer have the same look of the wild about them. On the surface, that is. Some things cannot simply just be combed out or left behind; there’s a guardedness to their expressions and a tension in the air as he crosses the room, and despite their freshened appearances, there are surprisingly few signs of life scattered around the room. A byproduct of a life on the run, he supposes; living and leaving with nary a trace. Gurdet had made it clear they could ask of him what they wished –common sense prevailing, of course –but the room seems terribly bare save for a single book sitting on the bed, and the clothes they arrived in drying over by the fire. Clothes that look to have been washed, when really they deserve to have been burned. But Gurdet’s not surprised they’ve kept them; the fancy silks Xena has clothed them in are hardly appropriate for a life on the road.

Gurdet knew, of course he knew, but as he takes a seat it is so glaringly obvious that they always intended to flee.

Honest men can be so predictable.

Bongo makes no move to sit with him, instead remaining diligently at his elbow; not quite at attention but not quite at ease. Across the table, Mozry takes up the same stance behind her husband and Gurdet doesn’t miss the way her eyes dip to the sword at Bongo’s hip.

"Have you come to kill us?" she inquires flatly, when she realises that he’s seen. Ah, so straight to the point. Gurdet sees where Khobi gets it from.

" Kill you ?" he scoffs dismissively, eyebrows ever so convincingly shooting up towards his hairline, "Now whatever would make you think I would do such a thing?" This hardly placates Mozry; the tension lingering in her form as she eyes Bongo evenly, no doubt trying to gauge his strength and whether she could take him. Gurdet likes to think not, but he’s not here to put that to the test.

"You hear things, in the wild," she states, chin tilting in a subtle show of defiance that Gurdet has become all-too familiar with.

"Nothing but nasty rumours, I’m sure," Gurdet replies airily, ...Frankly, I was concerned that you might try much the same thing."

"Would you blame us?" Khojin asks with a small shrug, not bothering to deny it, "You’ve been holding Khobi. You’re all that stands between us and taking him home."