Chapter 303: The Chaparone.

Chapter 303: Chapter 303: The Chaparone.

He also doesn’t like the way that Loac suddenly cocks his head; like something has just occurred to him, and when he slings an arm around his shoulder and barges up into his space, his eyes are sparking in a way that Khobi is starting to think might just be trouble.

​"...So you think I’m pretty, huh?" he smirks, tone smug and playful, so obviously messing with him and enjoying himself while he’s at it, and Khobi scoffs as loud and as vehemently as he can even as he feels the back of his neck start to warm.

​"You know that’s not what I meant."

...

To Khobi’s relief, the bread goes down well, really well.

​"Hey Khobi?" Gandy says, humming in appreciation as he polishes off his third bread and licks the gravy off his thumbs.

"Forget about Loac, marry me."

​"Gandy, Loac is right there," Rogard chides, "And besides, you’ll have to get in line, I’m calling first dibs."

​"Pfft, you can’t dibs a person," Gandy scoffs, and gets a blinding smile thrown back at him.

​"Oh? Then how come I just did?" Rogard chimes airily, leaning back where he’s teetering on the fence to catch Khobi’s attention.

"Khobi, if you had to marry either of us..."

​"Neither," Khobi deadpans, because he knows exactly where that question was headed, and while he’s never really given much thought as to who he would marry, he’s pretty damn sure that neither Gandy nor Rogard is it.

​"Rude, I’m a catch," Rogard sniffs, and does not appreciate the way Gandy snorts at that.

"...But if you had to pick..." Khobi is not entertaining this conversation, declaring flatly, "I’m not answering that."

​"I thought you liked women," Mural reminds Gandy with a raised eyebrow, and just gets a noncommittal noise and a bread roll waggled back at him. "I could be convinced."

​"...I’ll be sure to keep that in mind," Khobi deadpans flatly, and hooks Loac around the neck to drag him away as he bends down to scoop out another piece.

Because for someone who barely helped, he’s already had way too many. "Hey, both of you, leave some for Montrel."

​"No promises," Gandy snickers, tossing another one to Rogard, just high enough that he almost topples clean off the fence reaching for it.

"Hey, keep it clean, you two, we’re eating here," he adds meaningfully, gesturing with a greasy finger at the way Khobi’s got Loac in a headlock.

It is nothing rough enough to choke him out or anything, just enough to deter him from being a dirty thief.

​"What’s that supposed to mean?" Khobi scoffs, and promptly loses both his grip and his mind as Rogard tuts loudly and obligingly elaborates that there should be no foreplay at the dinner table.

Foreplay? Uh, what the fuck? Khobi gawks at them.

They just blink back at him, like they’ve said nothing unusual, which they absolutely have.

And not for the first time, either.

​Aghast, he shoots a look across at Loac, only to find the guy just leaning up on the fence messily licking his fingers and trying not to hide a smirk.

Clearly he’ll find no help there.

​"...That seems a little unfair," Mural remarks placidly, and Khobi is grateful that at least someone is on his side.

That is, until he adds, "They’ll never be able to eat with us again."

They all laugh, the absolute traitors, and he even catches Loac snickering behind his hand along with them like he’s somehow in on the joke, eyes creased in the corners and blue pricked with light.

That’s it, he decides, he’s never cooking for them ever again. He totally will, though. They’re his friends, after all.

...

Jaga is the one who warns Montrel about the chaperone. In hindsight he probably should have expected something of the sort, as this isn’t just any pretty girl he is supposedly courting.

This is the Crown Princess, heir to the throne of one of the most powerful kingdoms this side of the sea.

Of course she wouldn’t be allowed to just go wandering off alone or spending time with whosoever she pleases.

There are rules about these sorts of things when it comes to ladies from rich families, apparently, procedures and protocols to follow.

​These are all things that Montrel is absolutely clueless on.

Thank the gods for Jaga.

The guy hasn’t married his girl just yet, but as the only one of Montrel’s hopeless goddamned friends to have gotten both the girl and her father to agree to it, he is certainly the closest.

So he knows a bit about this stuff, about what he is meant to do, and not do, and say and not say.

Which Montrel obviously forgets entirely as soon as he sees her.

​Wow.

From how pink her cheeks turn, he’s gone and said that out loud again. Shit, he has got to stop doing that.

Three seconds in and he’s already put his foot in it.

Now, if only the ground could open up and swallow him, that would be great. Except that she’s still smiling at him.

​"You really think so?" she says, eyes so big and so bright that he can’t quite look directly into them.

"Uh, yeah," he fumbles, absent-mindedly scratching at the underside of his jaw. "You look really nice."

​He’s sure he hears someone sigh in the background and makes a mental note to throttle whoever it is the next chance he gets.

But the princess just thanks him as she takes him by the arm and tells him with an excited twinkle in her eyes that she’s ready for her lesson.

Montrel really wishes he could share her enthusiasm, because he’s been looking forward to this, but unfortunately for him, the chaperone who has been chosen to accompany her is none other than Vogrid, one of the best damn archers in the entire kingdom.

He is a notorious stickler for technique and not beyond sharing his opinion when it’s not wanted.

Oh, he’s so fucked.

His discomfort must show, because the princess pats him on the arm to get his attention, and when he turns to see what she wants, she reaches up on tiptoe so that she can lower her voice for only him to hear.

"Please don’t mind him," she whispers apologetically, glancing back at the man following on behind them looking unimpressed by their sudden closeness.

"My father’s just being a little difficult, is all."

​"Gurdet? Being difficult?" Montrel mumbles weakly.

"No way."

Ah shit, it’s probably in bad taste to be making fun of her dad, especially when he’s the literal king that he serves and owes his allegiance to.

But for whatever reason, his comment makes the princess press a laugh into one of her hands, like they’re sharing a secret. She has such a pretty laugh, too.

​Suddenly, it barely even seems to matter that Vogrid is there.

And if he dares say a bad word about the princess’ technique, or dampens her spirits in any way, he’ll kick him out of the grounds on the spot, ’chaperone’ be damned.

Or get Drogger to do it, since Montrel doesn’t exactly have that sort of clout.

Gods, he’ll even suck it up and ask Loac to do it, if it comes to that, because he meant what he had said to Loac.

He has no intention of making her cry, or letting anyone else do so, for that matter.