Kell exhales a tiny sigh of relief, barely a breath at all, when Rhy crosses whatever distance was left between them, and lets himself be held. He responds to the gentle squeeze of Rhy's hand when he laces his fingers with Kell's, with moving even closer. So close, there's barely any space at all. As if he could become a shield, a barrier to keep all the suffering away from Rhy. But he really can't, can he? He's already drenched in it himself.

"I know," he says, his voice barely above whisper. "But this is different, Rhy."

They both made mistakes that led directly to disaster. Stupid mistakes, understandable, but stupid. They both have been manipulated by people far more skilled at deception, cruel and ambitious, that latched at their weakest points. Rhy's desire for magic, he's own desire for freedom. And used them to bring destruction to their home. Other people paid the price of two princes being foolish. One of them in particular being extremely foolish.

"You're not like this bitch queen. Not in the slightest. Don't you ever think about yourself like that."

He knows he shouldn't voice his opinion out loud. Not this particular one. It could bring all sorts of trouble if it ever circled back to this paranoid, mad woman. But this is Nott, not castle Thorne, and Kell assumes that here, nobody really cares about him badmouthing the woman who should have cared about her own people, but doesn't. Apparently, she never did. Kell hates her for it, even if this is not his home country, and those people here are not his people. He hates her with the same cold hatred he thought he had reserved only for the Danes twins. It turns out he has a lot more of it to share. To think that Rhy would even consider comparing himself to that wretched woman is unthinkable.