Collaterals

How Much Mayhem.

Khaled could not stop clenching and unclenching his hand by his side as he stood, his back to the banquet, feet screwed to the ground in front of the only window offering a proper view of Leila. There were torches lining the courtyard she still stood in, though Khaled was not certain they provided enough light should someone challenge her to a duel. Her sword was pushed into the ground as she leaned on it heavily. Strands of hair had fallen out of their braided crown, but the Princess seemed unwilling to so much as brush them out of her way. 

"Son. I know you are worried, but watching her does nothing."

Khaled did not turn. The Young Lord had not seen her sit once. He'd not seen her raise her head to look at the party that'd been watching her. And, worst of all, he'd not seen her sustain whatever injury that had the Princess continue to reach for her left thigh in pain. If only he could get her his slaves. If only he could stand in her place till she could access a nearby latrine. If only he could help her out of this awful mess and—

Mother laced a hand through his arm, "My boy. My sweet boy. Your absence from the table is being noticed."

Khaled glanced to the long table he'd slithered away from moments ago. Tameem had arrived at noon, unexpectedly, so that for a terrifying moment, Khaled had thought he intended to duel Leila. It seamed the only thing he intended to do at all was dazzle their fellow nobles, as he now did from where he sat, all smiles and grace. Ever the diplomat, his younger brother, so easily having relinquished the House responsibilities Khaled had entrusted him with to their younger brother Hassan. Khaled looked to this mother, "I truly doubt that. Besides, she's...She's hurt, mother. It must have happened when we were moved here."

Mother creased her brows before she leaned closer, pursing her lips. "It seams so."

Khaled glanced behind him once more, as though terrified their small voices would somehow find their way into the loud banquet. He stepped in front of Mother, holding the back of her head and leaning closer as though to kiss her forehead, "I shall slip out. While they are pre-occupied. I shall hand her some salves and–."

"Listen here, boy," Mother all but hissed, bringing him closer. "That boy child on the throne does not like you. He never has. And as head of our household you are being watched. Your Beloved has her Captain with her, down there, and there is no one better than him to sneak her a salve or a loaf of bread–."

"The Captain is as much an ambassador as her, it would be too obvious if he were the one to interfere–."

"And you, on the contrary, would be invisible?!" Her teeth were grit as she spoke, eyes wide. Mother sighed, looking away as someone passed by a little too close. 

Khaled pressed the kiss onto her forehead, and as he pulled away, she tightened her grip on his shoulder, "For the love of your siblings, for the memory of your father: you will not jeopardize our House."

And her voice held enough emotion that Khaled paused. And when he looked to mother again, he could do nothing but nod, gulping down the knot of emotion from his throat. 

And so it was atop his chair he sat, nodding along to whatever it was Tameem now said. Khaled winced as his brother slapped a hand over his back. 

Tameem hooked his hand over Khaled's shoulder, leaning closer as he spoke, "Brother, it pains me to see she who'd have one day been my sister-in-law in such...despair."

Khaled's grit his teeth. He nodded, reaching for his glass and taking long sips of the cool water, ignoring how his brother watched him, now. 

"Do you...truly not know what pushed her to abdicate. Or even....Or even how, given that she no longer...you know," he made a face, "speaks."

Khaled gave him a sidelong glare, words falling flat when he said, "She signed a paper."

"Did she?" He exclaimed, settling back into his seat. "Well, then, what a lucky thing that forgery has not yet been invented."

Khaled glanced either which way before moving closer to this brother, "That kind of talk will get you in trouble, Tammy."

"That kind of talk should get you moving, Khaled," He hissed.

"And do what, exactly?" Khaled said a little too loud, earning glances from those around the table. 

Still, the sound of clanking utensils resumed as Tameem leaned closer once more. "The boy. Little Bassem."

"What of him."

"He is her kin. He may aid her in this, stand in her place so she may rest."

Khaled sneered, "Are you mad? He has only just made it into boyhood, and you'd have him stand place in a duel?!"

"No one in their right mind would challenge him, Khaled!" He was looking at him with intensity, now. "Look, I saw her earlier. She can win this. She will, if she could rest for just enough. We can buy her that time."

"I doubt Haitham would permit it," Khaled bit the inside of his cheek, looking away.

"Oh please," Tameem gestured to the room, "look around. people are intrigued. Enough to want more of her. He will not deny you."

"Me?"

Tameem raised a brow, "Someone must declare the boy. I'm surprised no one has already."

Khaled glanced to the high table. To think just a month ago he'd confidently, comfortably, strode up there. But now only Haitham and Boody sat, the Governess seated by Boody's side. The little boy played with one of his wooden horses, all too oblivious to just how much mayhem surrounded him. And just how much more was about to.

Khaled rose.