Aubade

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The stone tablet turned in his palms as he waited for dawn to arise. He sat, perched on the edge of a balcony. A neighboring village's name had been inscribed on the tablet. His village was carefully written. Each of these places was committed to his memory.

The bruises scattered across the princess's back remained imprinted in his memory.

He shook his head.

Think of Gio. Of Raya.

Zahir wanted to go home. The disgust that sank into his skin every moment he spent in the palace became impossible to wash away.

He swung his legs off the edge, running a hand through his hair and tucking the tablet into his satchel. He crept along the floors, feet silent against the stone floors, running a hand against the wall and searching for the doorknob. He sighed in relief as the cool metal fit against his hand, the old oak creaking as the door swung open. The door shut behind him with a soft thud. His breathing became shallow, anxiety dancing against his icy hand, praying that no one would pay him a glance. He kept his head down, creeping up a staircase, hiding in the shadows of the early morning. A series of screams snapped his head sideways, followed by a soft cry. He stepped backwards, pushing himself into the corner of the hallway, heartbeat racing. A large mass hit the wood, and a large door swung open. A woman's frame stumbled into the hallway, grasping the railing, regaining balance. He bit his lip, his shoulders taught with fear. His fingers traced the rough edges of the stone tablet, slowly moving to grab a closer glance of the woman in the emerald gown. But she stepped aside, disappearing down another maze of corridors. He exhaled softly, thankful to not be caught. Yet. He reminded himself. He walked along the route the queen had given him, looking around, wary of any outsiders.

Another shout echoed faintly, laced with pain. He froze, sprinting towards the noise before he could stop himself.

Don't be dead, he prayed in his mind, skidding to a halt as he saw the queen crouched beside the woman in the emerald gown.

Ilaria.

"Let go of my fucking arm, mother, or I will shatter your wrists," Ilaria hissed. He froze at the entrance, tucking himself back into the shadows. Ilaria leaned her head against the wall, breathing unevenly, eyes shut. Her skin was pale, and she appeared more ill since the last he'd seen of her. He glanced at the queen, irritation flaring in his gut.

Was she blind?
The queen opened her mouth to speak, but Zahir had stepped in front of the pair before she could speak another word.

Ilaria could hardly stand, yet this woman continued placing herself first. Selfish, despicable woman-

"Your highness," He murmured, falling into a low bow, strands of his hair falling to his eyes. He glanced at Ilaria's hard, green irises as he rose.

"I don't mean to interrupt-"
"What is it?" Ilaria rasped, breathing shallow.

"I found the tablet," Zahir murmured, pulling the stone from his satchel, and placing it in the queen's outstretched hands.

"I will have gold delivered to your home, Zahir. I cannot express my gratitude-"
"Princess," He interrupted. The queen's eyes widened in mild surprise..

"Are you ill?" She pressed her lips together, raising an eyebrow at him, as if to ask, are you stupid?

Ilaria bit her lip, softly standing, swaying from side to side. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but she winced beneath his touch.

"Leave me be." She murmured, shrugging off his hand, and brushing past her mother. He kept his eyes trained on her as she disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

"You've met my daughter," The queen spoke, lips pressed into a thin line. Anxiety knotted in his chest.

"On occasion, yes." He answered,meeting her piercing stare. The queen averted her gaze. Stepping away from him.

"I'll send it to you soon." She paused for a moment.

"How is Raya?"He clenched his jaw.

"Fine, Your Highness." She cleared her throat, crossing her arms and stepping aside.

"You may return home, Zahir." He nodded, bowing quickly before darting down the hallway, the direction Ilaria disappeared. He panted, softly out of breath as he stopped outside her door. He placed his hand against the wood, his hand curling into fists.

What was he doing?

He knocked once anyway, not hearing an answer. He knocked again, and the door opened just slightly, uneven footsteps limping away from the door. He stepped inside, hearing it shut heavily behind him.

"What do you want?" Ilaria muttered, messily knotting her hair at the top of her skull, revealing an ugly blue and black bruise across her spine. She limped to the closet, grabbing a thick fleece robe, leaning against the wood. She turned, meeting his gaze.

"You looked unwell." She laughed emptily.

"I looked unwell?" Ilaria shook her head, turning away again.

"I heard you screaming," Zahir spoke, and she froze. Her spine straightened. He watched her hand shake slightly at her sides, clutching the folds of her gown.

"I watched you stumble ." He continued softly. And your mother came and-"
"So, what? You think you're some sort of savior?" She spun around. His eyebrows narrowed.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright-"
"I am alright, Zahir. Now you can go heal your fucking conscience and conspire with my mother on some other way to kill me. Maybe bring the King into it too, while you're at it. What do you want me to say? Oh great Zahir, thank you for asking me if I was alright. Somehow, all of my problems have miraculously solved themselves." Ilaria chuckled.

"Get the fuck out of here." She spat.

Zahir exhaled through his nose frustrated. Ilaria leaned a hand against the cabinet, breathing heavily, squeezing her eyes shut. He darted forward, grasping her forearms.
"Don't touch me." She whispered, strained and almost panicked. Zahir led her to the bed, helping her lie down on her non-injured side, as he'd done countless times for Gio.. He unknotted her hair, allowing it to fall back on the pillow.

"Wait here."
"Don't tell me what to do." She snapped, hoarsely. He shook his head, running a hand through his messy curls. He started the bath, hot water pouring from the tap, steam quickly rising in the bathroom. It all felt familiar. Memories of him caring for Raya as a child, for Gio when he came with an aching body covered in bruises. He stepped towards Ilaria, gently helping her up.

"I can walk," She insisted, standing onto wobbly legs, shrugging off his support. The ache in his chest softened slightly, as he kept his hands outstretched in case she stumbled. Ilaria dragged her feet across the ground, slowly reaching the door.

"Help," She murmured, so quietly he nearly missed it. Zahir grasped her waist, helping her to the edge of the tub. She swore loudly.

"Just undo the first button. I can do the rest." She asked, her voice soft. Zahir's chest ached, watching the bruise across her spine, fingers fumbling with the back of her dress, finally managing to pull apart the button.

She spun slowly, expression blank except for her eyes. The pain in her gaze seared into him, making his heart twist. He cleared his throat shutting the door behind him.