Collaterals

Unwell.

A/N: My dear readers...I am sorry for the late update. It would seem my university exams have been examining my patience, rather than my knowledge. As usual, your responses are welcome and appreciated. I would love nothing more than to hear your thoughts. 

"This...will help her?" Leila had not remembered a time when her voice had sounded so small. so...unsure. But...having seen Zarqa lying like that, talking to herself, swaying back and forth on the cold ground as she hugged herself...Leila frowned as the Blue-eyed Diviner nodded. How she wished she could pry his mouth open, cut the tongue he so evidently did not need. But, alas, all she could do was cradle Zarqa's head and bring the steaming cup to her lips. "Slowly, now. It's hot."

Zarqa took a sip, squinting in pain. She nodded, leaning back down before giving a reserved, "Thank you."

They'd opened the window, tried to air out the room as though the wind could carry that which haunted Zarqa, as though it could stop these...episodes. Only Leila had seen her, just a few hallways away from the Imperial Prince's room. And how lucky that was. This time, Zarqa had not thrown fire at her, had barely even recognized Leila as she wrapped her arms around her younger sister and helped the princess up, led the princess to her room, and tucked the princess into bed. That was three days ago. 

Three days of Zarqa laying in bed, and father locked up in his room. And Ali...Ali was unapproachable. In a foul, stormy mood that had even Haitham tight-lipped around him. 

The hand Leila now placed on Zarqa's was tentative. She looked up, trying to give a small smile, "Zarqa..."

"No."

"Zarqa you must leave the room."

"No."

"Zarqa..."

The Young Princess moved, reaching for the all-too-hot cup and cringing even as she sipped it down. The cup was empty when Zarqa put it down. The Princess turned onto her side, not looking to Liela. THe silence between them was not entirely uncomfortable. Still, Leila was glad when Zarqa finally spoke, "I would have like to see the the Prince off."

"Aurelius?"

Zarqa gave a week laugh, "Who else?"

Leila cocked her head to the side, "You were tired."

"I was tired. Father was tired. He must not have found it to be very pleasant, leaving. Do you think he took offense?"

Leila played with a thread in the cover of Zarqa's bed, "I should hope not."

And goodness, how she hoped not.

Zarqa gave a nod, then, not responding.

Leila sighed, rolling her head against the tension building in her shoulder. She'd been massaging that same spot for the past three days, trying desperately to quell the painful bundle of nerves. Her efforts were to no avail. Still, the image of Zarqa...muttering in the darkness....This time, when Leila reached out, she kept her hand calm, gentle as she placed it on Zarqa's shoulder. "You are...unwell, Zarqa."

Beneath Leila's hand, Zarqa tensed.

"When— when you get— like that— what...? Do you not remember?" 

The younger Princess shook her head soundlessly, looking to a spot on the ground.

"I just feel," Her voice was hushed, and Leila knew whatever the Diviner had cooked up was starting to take hold. "I just feel so...worried. anxious. Like something's coming."

Leila inched closer, licking her lips as her finger's curled atop Zarqa's shoulder. "You say stuff, Zarqa, do you remember them?"

"Hmm...?"

"Do you remember what you say?"

Zarqa's eyelids weighed heavy, sinking up and down like a buoy in the sea. "No," she shifted, bringing her covers closer. "But sometimes I...hear myself...I don't know..." Zarqa closed her eyes against a yawn, "Could you go, now?"

Leila glanced behind her, at the Diviner who took a step forward. She frowned, her eyes moving to the other Diviner, female, standing in the corner. How many Diviners followed just Zarqa? Leila turned back to face her sister, mouth pressed into a line. Zarqa was fast asleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Leila drew the covers atop her, and left. 

Only she didn't get very far. 

Haitham— hands pushed into his pockets, shoulder's hunched, face looking to the ground— approaching Zarqa's door with such speed Leila thought he'd crash into the door. Only she was in front of the door. And so Leila spoke, putting her hands out in front of her, "Haitham—"

He looked up, stopping just shy of her, a startled look on his face. The Prince blinked a few times cringing as though unsure what he was looking at. "What are you doing here?"

Leila straightened, "I—" she glanced back, as though seeing through the door, "I was just with Zarqa."

"Obviously," he snapped back. "Why?"

"Just checking on her, is all. What is the matter?"

Haitham looked away. His mouth was twisted, as though he'd tasted something sour. He swayed, on his feet, from one to the other, as though uncomfortable when seated on the ground. And, when he finally looked up at Leila, she saw not even the glint of sunlight in his eyes. Dark. Entirely dark. "Finally talking to me, are you?"

Leila gulped. She did not feel her hand, snaking to her other arm and clutching it. "I'm sorry. I just— I panicked. After the boy...well. And I— I'm sorry, I' shouldn't have—"

"Doesn't matter," Haitham interrupted. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, looking either which way, before he made to push past her, "I need to see Zarqa."

Leila put her hand on the knob, "She's resting."

"She won't mind."

"Haitham, she's asleep," Leila's eyes flared. She sighed, shaking her head, "Just– what is it?"

"Father is...." The words came out fast, jumbled, as though the Prince simply needed for them to be said. Haitham ran a hand through his hair. "Father is unwell."

For a frightening moment, Leila didn't move. Her very chest refused to move up or down as she held her breath, looking to her brother as he took a shaky breath. "They've moved Ali's naming up. This week." He nodded to Zarqa's room. "She'll have to preform. Alongside Ali." Haitham's eyes dragged themselves to Leila's. "You too, I reckon."

It was then that Leila spoke, "Perform?"

Haitham scoffed, "Is that what bothers you?"

Leila stayed quite, watching as he shook his head. "Yes. The Dance of the Flame. If you can learn it fast enough."

"But, I don't even know—"

Haitham sneered, "Goodness, Leila, have you no worries but your own?!"

Once more, Leila found she was at a loss for words. Why? Why did the news of father's pain not hurt her, not send a knife through her chest? Was this not the very man she'd spent years wondering what the press of his arms around her would feel like? Was this not the man who's signature smell she'd wanted but a whiff of? But oh...what a loss for words she was in. Liela pressed her hand to the carved wooden door behind her. And, though her mind screamed and screamed at her to find something, anything to say...she said nothing, did nothing. Only watched as Haitham stuffed his hands in his pocket, gave a huff of frustration, and turned.

And then, she watched him leave.