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Kabru tightened his grip on the blanket around his shoulders to keep it from slipping off, his eyes straining as he tried to read the small print of his documents in the carriage’s dim lighting. His fingers, peeking out from under the fabric to grasp the papers, was starting to lose feeling in the chilled air, but he knew he had no choice but to endure it.
“And that’s where we’re at n-now,” he continued, his jaw aching as he tried to bite back his shivering. “The chieftain’s backed himself into a corner and he knows that. That'll make him volatile, but remember; he needs this trade agreement to go through as much as we do, and he knows that, t-too.” He looked up. “Do you understand?”
Laios stared, his amber eyes holding a mixture of incredulity and amusement, and Kabru gritted his teeth; he was the one who made that face, not the other way around. “Laios, do you understand what I’m saying?”
With a sheepish chuckle, Laios nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
Kabru scowled, shifting in his blanket as he reached for his next set of documents. He clenched his jaw as more cold air seeped through the fabric, the carriage rattling underneath them on the uneven road. They couldn’t arrive at this damned chateau fast enough and, once there, Kabru was going to boil himself in a bathtub.
Kabru tried to focus on his papers, unable to shake the feeling of Laios' eyes on him filled with the same perplexed amusement as before. He did his best to shut him out, but as the carriage hit another sharp bump in the road, he couldn’t help but let out an aggrieved “What?”
“Why didn’t you bring anything to wear up here?” Laios asked, painfully earnest. “You’re so smart; you had to know that thin little coat wasn't going to be enough."
“I figured my time spent outside would be limited,” Kabru muttered darkly. “Not enough to warrant the cost of a brand new coat, anyway.”
Laios laughed. “Is that all? Kabru, you know you don’t have to worry about stuff like that anymore. We can take care of it now.”
Kabru bit back a groan, unwilling to argue how it was more to do with the principle of the thing; why waste money on an extravagance he only intended to use maybe once a year, at most? Besides, he’d managed to tolerate winters on the island just fine.
The shrill wind howled outside, rattling the windows of the carriage and pulling Kabru's eyes upward. He couldn’t help but shiver at the sight of the vast, icy tundra stretched out before him.
Although, he was possibly willing concede that, perhaps, he might have underestimated the severity of northern winters and that, perhaps, he’d overestimated his ability to endure it …
Laios was gazing outside the window as well, his chin resting on the handsome fur gloves that Kabru had been eyeing with envy. He let out a soft sigh.
“I never wanted to come back here, you know,” he murmured, “but I really do miss the winters sometimes.”
“Who would miss a winter like this?” Kabru muttered, memories of the Utayan sun warming his face rushing through his mind. He had to stem the flooding tide of unproductive wistfulness. “It’s more dangerous to travel, you can’t grow crops, you’re more likely to fall ill … It’s miserable.”
“It’s beautiful!” Laios insisted, his sudden burst of energy startling Kabru. “There’s nothing more beautiful than the first morning after snowfall. Falin and I would get up early and make a family of snowmen together every year, and we’d have these crazy snowball fights. One time, she accidentally packed some snow with a rock and gave me a black eye.” He frowned. “At least, I think it was an accident …”
An amused puff of air escaped Kabru’s nose. Smiling, Laios turned back to the window. “And everything’s so much quieter. Snow absorbs the sound of everything around it; it’s why some predators evolved to have sharper hearing than their southern counterparts. Stepping outside into the snow feels like walking on an alien planet.”
Kabru watched Laios as grew lost in thought, gazing out at the frozen landscape. The soft glow of the winter sun poured through the glass, highlighting the strong curve of his jaw and the gentle slope of his nose. For a moment, Kabru forgot about the cold seeping through his bones, straightening when those amber eyes flickered back to him.
“Besides,” Laios said, his eyes warm, “what’s better than drinking a cup of hot cocoa all bundled up in a cozy blanket in front of the fireplace?”
Feeling as if though he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, Kabru looked away. He supposed the man made a valid enough point; although he didn’t know if that should be counted as a mark in the season’s favor if some of its best parts were the efforts made to get away from it.
Shaking his head, Kabru returned his attention to the task at hand, determined not to let himself get distracted. As he reached for his supplemental documents, however, his face contorted in a grimace as the chill crept through where he’d been forced to part his blanket; their brief interlude had somehow driven the cold from his mind.
Growling, he curled up into a tight ball, dropping all pretenses as he let his shivering overtake his body. Laios, bundled up in his own sensible, fur-lined cloak and regalia, looked on with sympathy, and Kabru had to hold back a frostbitten sigh.
The loud shouts of the coachmen and the whinnying of the horses indicated that they had finally reached their destination. Taking a deep breath, Kabru ripped off the blankets in one sharp motion and reached for his papers. The quicker he moved, the less it would hurt, and the faster he’d get this over with.
“Remember,” he said as he made to rise, “they want this trade agreement, just as much as we do. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t, I won’t,” said Laios, visibly stifling an eye roll, and Kabru wanted to dig his knuckles into that blond head of hair. At least the man seemed confident—a stark contrast to the one who’d oozed doubt and uncertainty that Kabru had known only a few months prior. In that moment, though, Kabru honestly couldn't decide who was a bigger thorn in his side.
Shaking his head, Kabru stepped out of the carriage as the coachman held open the door. Immediately, the harsh wind cut through Kabru's too-thin coat and he gritted his teeth against the onslaught, his shivering nearly bringing him to his knees. Through the misty clouds, he could make out the looming silhouette of the chateau—he needed to endure it only a little while longer.
Just as he was about to step aside and let His Majesty pass, something heavy and soft settled onto his shoulders with an unceremonious thump.
Startled, Kabru whirled around to see Laios striding past him, his wolven regalia notably absent. Kabru stared, but Laios carried on obliviously without him, strolling down the cobblestone path. He seemed unfazed by the fact that he'd now had only his cloak to shield him from the wind.
When he realized Kabru hadn't followed, Laios turned, shooting him a quizzical look. “Why’d you stop?”
Kabru’s mouth moved as he tried to come up with the words, intensely aware of the escort waiting for them at the end of the path, but he failed. He could have delved into the logistics of the king’s royal advisor appearing at the chateau with his king’s regalia draped over his shoulders; the message it sent, the intimacy it suggested—an intimacy Kabru had been trying to avoid indulging lest it distract His Majesty from more pressing concerns.
But Kabru was cold. His shoes were wet. And the furs shielded him from the sharpest gusts of wind that sliced through his body; the worst of his shivering had already begun to subside.
Grimacing, he held the furs close, murmuring “I'll tell you later” as he hurried to Laios’ side.
He’d give it back as soon they were inside the chateau and out of this abysmal wind.
Laios smiled as Kabru caught up to him. Together, they continued along the path leading to their welcoming escort. Warriors clad in fur-lined armor stood tall and still, their breath forming wispy fog as they offered their dutiful respects. Laios acknowledged their greetings with a nod, and Kabru let himself relax, content to fade into the background as pleasantries were exchanged.
From the corner of his eyes, Kabru watched as Laios spoke with the warriors, commanding their attention with a firm, authoritative air. Yet, there was a warmth in his eyes that seemed to soften even the most hardened of the warriors, their expressions gradually shifting from stern aloofness to something almost affable. When Laios clapped his hand on one of their shoulders and let out a jovial laugh, they responded with equally boisterous laughter of their own.
He looked composed. He looked regal. He looked like the king Kabru always knew he could be.
—and, at the sight, something deep inside of Kabru stirred.
As they approached the chateau and were aggrieved by another gust of unforgiving wind, Kabru wrapped the furs tighter around his shoulders, trying not to think about how the soft material carried with it a calming scent and a trace of warmth from the body that held it before.