Collaterals

The Hounds of Death

Noon gave way to evening, evening to night, and night to dawn. A new day had arisen, and with it the Princess had championed three more duels. She no longer stood behind her sword, but kneeled, head resting on her hands as they clung weakly to the sword's pommel. Evening's cool breeze danced gracefully through the space between those gathered, the sun's light gentle in its descent; Khaled hoped only that it lent his Princess any matter of relief. 

"She will be fine, Khaled," Tameem had stood by him the entire time, ensuring aid was not an arm's stretch away from the princess should she require it while Khaled had stood in her stead.

Khaled nodded tensely, hands fisted behind his back.

Still, Tammy's hand was a grounding solace as it settled on his shoulder, "Night is sure to descend, now, and few dare duel in the dark. She need only wait it out, I tell you."

He paused, as though hoping Khaled would respond. When he did not, Tammy took a breath, "Doctor Sami has assured me he will be ready for the Princess, as soon as she is freed from her responsibilities as champion. And I've spoken to her chambermaid and handmaidens, all of whom eagerly await the Princess's return..."

Movement caught Khaled's eye so that his head turned to it, watching with dismay as someone whispered something to Haitham. Over the past two days, the Boy King's eyes had hardened into a beady stare. He blinked slowly, clutched the throne's armchair tightly with the arrival of every opponent, and all but sunk into his chair with every body fallen in the Princess's wake. He must have heard, then, the chatter of the court, the not so subtle appreciation, fondness, devotion growing around the Championed Princess. Over and over they spoke of her quick jabs, her cunning defenses, her loyalty and steadfastness in the throne's servitude. And what did Haitham have to show for? A voice. One with weight that dwindled with each passing victory.

Khaled could not help but ponder Mother's warnings, squinting at the throne as though he could somehow better hear. 

Tameem took a step forward, leaning closer to Khaled's ear so he needn't do more than whisper, "There has been discourse, I hear. Those who noticed burns on the larger opponent's hands. From yesterday."

Khaled leaned closer to his brother, keeping his eye on Leila, unmoving ahead, "Burns?"

"Yes. He was...quick to be buried."

The Young Lord took his lips between his teeth in thought. She'd been hot when he'd carried her, enough that he'd let go in shock. He'd ignored the heat blazing off her, far more concerned with the blood seeping out of her. But then when he touched her just moments later... had she not been cooling off? Yes, he remembered, thereafter there'd been no sign of that blazing heat that had made her proximity almost intolerable. Khaled gave a shake of his head; it mattered little, now. "I see."

His brother was tentative as he continued, "And there were other talks. Of a Tainish ship docked at bay."

"A Tainish ship?"

Tameem nodded, "Yes."

Khaled's grip tightened behind his back.

"It has been a little over a month since that...horrid night. Enough for news to have reached the Empire, for an emissary to have been sent here." Tameem looked ahead, at the Princess. "The winds truly must be in their favour, though, for such a curt arrival."

"Quite." Khaled agreed.

"Khaled." Tameem's grip hardened on Khaled's shoulder.

Khaled looked, finally, to his brother, eyes trailing to the patch secured beneath his eye, covering the sutured skin. The Young Lord forced his eyes away from the wound, away from the swollen coloured eye above it, and directed his gaze to his brother's pitying eye, "Yes?"

"I...heard the ship bore the Hand's standard."

Khaled blinked. The Hand's standard. He turned away from his brother, that steadying hand falling off his shoulder, and looked to Leila. But the Hand was already here, kneeling on the ground, fighting for her life. 

It was easy for the brothers to fall back into that tense quiet, even as the chatter of their fellow nobles continued on, uninterrupted by the hounds of death as they circled their Princess.