Collaterals

Face the Fire

"Haitham found them?" Ali asked in disbelief, looking to Father at the head of the table. 

"Yes, brother, I found the culprits of our dear sister's horrid assassination attempt. I'd much appreciate it if you spoke to me as though I were, in fact, in the room." Haitham deadpanned, shifting as he tried to get comfortable on the seat the staff had dragged in for him, pushing his elbow onto the armrest.

Ali looked to his younger brother in distaste, "Almost, what...? Four months after the matter?"

Leila watched from her seat, dressed in the formal attire of Hand as she had been the first meeting. The different ministers had seemed to tense at the brother's dispute, which Leila was beginning to realize was common knowledge throughout the castle, and perhaps even throughout their kingdom. She looked at her father—who'd not so much as tensed a muscle at the boy's heated discussion, his body slumped tiredly on his chair by the other end of the table— only to find his eyes were settled on her, a watchful gaze that seamed to veil years of wisdom, of...was that suspicion? Leila looked away, to where Haitham had raised a brow, 

"Oh yes, and that is much later than your contribution, which was— oh, wait: what exactly was it?" He asked. And when Ali gave no response but a pointed glare, Haitham looked around the table, "What have any of you contributed towards my sister's failed assassination, for you to sit so comfortably on your chairs, legs crossed and chins high?"

It was the Advisor to Justice, Adel, who answered, his voice the type of calm that came with years of responding to similar accusations, "Forgive the suspicion, Your Highness. It is only...we know little of where your intel comes from, and an accusation as large as this one..."

Haitham frowned, "it is no accusation. They have confessed, having been harbored by a friend, deep in our cotton fields. My people only found them by the docks, hoping to leave."

"And this confession comes miraculously? Conveniently?" 

Haitham rolled his eyes, "I have not made my ears and eyes in this city a secret and it is not the first time it has aided this council!"

"Enough!" The King slammed his hand onto the polished wood, the sound powerful despite the coughing he seamed to be trying to hold back. Leila pressed her lips together as she watched her father's cough grow more and more vigorous, the King grasping his armrest as he leaned back into his chair with fatigue. He waved away the cup-bearer as he cringed agains the final bouts of his dry cough. His voice was weaker, now, as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes cringed shut, "Enough..."

The brothers looked to one another before settling, finally quite.

"The culprits are in custody?" Father's voice was hoarse.

"Yes," the Advisor to Defense, Hafiz, answered. He looked to the King, "Prince Haitham's men handed them over last night. I've personally overseen their interrogation. I can confirm their confessions were their own. Terrorists, associated with the Independence Movement. They seam to be new recruits, though. This was...a sort of induction ceremony, to them, their first job to prove loyalty to the cause. They know little, an gave us the locations of hideouts we already know of and monitor."

"And so, they face the flame?" The King's hands were shaking as he brought his cup closer to his mouth. He drank the water slowly, almost painfully. 

Leila looked to Advisor Adel as he looked down to a paper in dismay. His brows rose slightly as he spoke, head shaking in dismay, "There is no evidence for or against them. Only their word. And the interrogation."

The King gave a him a long look, and Leila could not help but wonder whether her father had always been so pale, had always had such shadows below his eyes, such stress lines and shallow cheeks. Had he lost weight?