Chapter 86: Tasty ..... Not Tasty.

Chapter 86: Chapter 86: Tasty ..... Not Tasty.

Montrel might be onto something.

Maybe Gurdet does hate him.

Because not only is this new coexistence everything as bad as he thought it would be, it’s worse.

It’s not the floor. It’s definitely uncomfortable, and with the autumn nights starting to set in, the stone’s a little on the cold side, but he’s slept on floors before.

Danker than this one. And without blankets. While that does suck , and he’s further from the training grounds, mostly it’s because so far, he’s walked in on Loac having sex no less than three times.

And counting.

He’s not even embarrassed anymore. Just annoyed.

" Seriously ?" he complains loudly, and makes sure to slam the door behind him as he storms in. Loac’s current bedmate to tumble off the bed in horror, taking most of the bedsheets with her.

...Taking all the bedsheets with her, Khobi very quickly realises, as he’s confronted by Loac’s stark naked, glistening form.

His chest is heaving, and he’s gleaming with sweat, but considering the interruption, doesn’t seem more than mildly annoyed.

He doesn’t even have the decency to try and grab for something to cover himself, just tucks his arms up behind his head, inviting him to look. Inviting him to do more than that.

Khobi doesn’t look away. Just so Loac knows he’s not bothered. And not interested.

Because as partial Khobi is to an attractive, naked man, he’s not.

Interested, that is.

Lean, dusky, and with a body that’s all edges in all the right places, Loac’s probably worth a second glance. Maybe even a third. As much as it pains him to admit it.

If you can overlook his sour face and equally grating personality. Which, frankly, Khobi can’t.

(Just privately, that’s probably a good thing, too.)

"Can’t you do that somewhere else?" Khobi growls irritably, rolling his eyes and storming past the bed towards his pile of blankets.

The girl scrambles to cover herself up, and looks embarrassed enough for the two of them. It’s not the same one as last time. And it was a man before that. Khobi doesn’t know where he finds them.

Or how he keeps managing to trick them into bed with him. From what he’s gleaned from the soldiers, Loac’s not lacking in willing bedpartners, and he rarely goes back for seconds.

"This is my room," Loac reminds him lazily, gaze tracking him across the room. Khobi ignores it, kicking his way through a trail of discarded clothes.

"It’s mine, too," Khobi snaps antagonistically, rifling through his blankets to find the jerkin he’d left behind this morning.

Fucking Binny hadn’t told him he’d forgotten it until they were almost at the training grounds, and by then it had been too late to go back for it.

He’d actually managed to make it through a couple of hours of training before he’d taken the wrong edge of a shield to the chest. Drogger had caught Khobi patching himself up in the barracks, and had kicked him on his ass and reminded him that armour was meant to be worn for a reason.

He’d be lucky if he didn’t spend the entire next day running laps.

" --And I don’t wanna keep seeing this ," he growls, gesturing distastefully at bed, and at the young woman, and then in Loac’s general direction

Because he’s already seen him inside far too many people. "So could you try to keeping it in your pants?"

Loac glances down his chest, and then lower. And then back up to Khobi. Whose gaze had definitely, definitely not followed his eyes.

"...I’m not wearing pants."

"I can see that," Khobi deadpans, scooping up a pair of trousers from where they’d been haphazardly tossed, and hurling them at Loac’s head.

It’s irritating how easily he catches them, though he definitely looks surprised. "So how about you fuckin’ put some on, jeez??"

...

"Oh wow, Khobi," Montrel remarks, mouth full of food, when Khobi sinks down into his seat at their usual dining table with a distinctly more thunderous expression than usual. "So who was it this time?"

Khobi just gives him a particularly aggrieved look and snatches a plate from the centre of the table. Montrel, who had just been reaching for the exact same plate, hurriedly withdraws his hand, eyebrows raised.

"You walked in on him again, huh?" Rogard asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah," Khobi grumbles flatly, chewing on a lump of bread.

"Man or woman?"

"Woman, this time."

"She pretty?" Gandy asks in mild interest.

"What?"

"Of course she was," Rogard remarks offhandedly, "Locs has surprisingly good taste. Mostly." Weirdly, he sounds almost a little... insulted , and it escapes no one’s notice.

"What, he turn you down or something?" Montrel ribs, elbowing him with a snicker and getting an affronted look in return.

Obviously Rogard considers himself somewhat of a standard for what’s considered good taste .

"Excuse me? I don’t get turned down," Rogard sniffs haughtily. "He’s not my type. And he’s never made a pass at me, so clearly I’m not his.

Although my father would have been pleased if I was," he snorts somewhat dryly, rolling his eyes, "He wanted to set me up with Xens, obviously, but he would have settled for Locs. If Locs was the marrying type."

"Your father wanted you to marry the princess ?" Montrel splutters incredulously.

"Wants," Rogard corrects flippantly through a mouthful of bread, "I’m sure he’d still like me to. But Xens would never have it. She’s....picky. Father’s pretty annoyed about it."

"So’s hers," Montral points out flatly.

"So’s hers," Rogard agrees, "His Majesty’s been trying to marry her off for years. Locs too, I guess. Although I guess he’s finally succeeded with that one. ...Sorry, Khobs."

"It’s fine," Khobi mutters into his plate. "S’ not like I’m actually gonna marry him anyways."

The soldiers exchange glances.

"I’m uh, pretty sure you don’t have a say in that," Montrel says flatly.

"He’s gonna find my uncle," Khobi explains simply, "And when he does, I’ll bust out of here and find him."

He says it like it’s really that simple, and going to be that simple. Rogard just stares at him, and a couple of the guards actually burst out laughing. Montrel actually spits out a mouthful of food. A chunk of it lands on Gandy’s plate.

" --Well obviously that’s what you were always going to do, but maybe don’t tell us that you’re gonna do it?" Montrel laughs, and gives the table a hearty slap that makes all the plates rattle. Jaga catches his mug before it topples and spills.

"...Like you could stop me," Khobi scoffs with a touch of arrogance, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yeah, coz escaping has gone real well for you so far," Montrel snorts, rolling his eyes right back. Khobi looks decidedly irritated by the reminder.

"...I would’ve gotten out eventually ," he sulks.

"Yeah, yeah, of course you would," Montrel patronises, clapping Khobi on the shoulder. He gets a heavy, red eyed glare in return.

"Look, kid, how about you deal with that when the time comes? No one’s seen your uncle in how long? I’m sure even Gurdet’s gonna have a hard time tracking him down."

While he’s right, that doesn’t mean Khobi can’t be sour about it. "So until then, how about you just train for the tournament? So I don’t, y’know, flatten you."

That makes Khobi pause.

"... Who’s getting flattened?" he demands after a moment, "Coz I’m pretty sure it was you last time..."

This time it’s Montrel’s turn to sulk, especially when Mural and Gandy snicker into their plates.

"Okay, you got something to prove?" he drawls, jabbing a finger at Khobi across the table, "Let’s go, right now!"

"Montrel," Jaga says warningly, and the sidelong glance he sends him is enough to halt him dead in his tracks. Khob, too, because he’s no more sensible. "Restrain yourself."

Montrel sinks back into his seat looking berated but Khobi pushes his plate away from himself and rises to his feet.

"Let’s go then," he decides with a cocky smirk, and Montrel grins wickedly back at him.

"I like your style, kid," he snickers, and joins him. Jaga gives them both a meaningful look and he hurriedly adds, "Training grounds?"

"Yeah. See you guys back there."

"The energy of youth," Gandy mutters mutinously as the pair of them skirt away from their chairs.

"Montrel’s the same age as you," Mural points out unhelpfully.

"Well yeah , but he likes to pretend he’s not."

" --But Khobs, you haven’t finished your lunch?" Rogard calls out, somewhat dismayed by the amount of food still left on Khobi’s plate. Khobi looks back at him, and then at the plate, grimacing.

"Dunno why, but I think I’ve lost my appetite today."