Aubade

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ilaria stepped out from behind the door, wrapped tightly in a fleece robe, her head throbbing so violently she thought she would pass out.

She glanced down, looking at Zahir who leaned against the wall, sitting on the ground and staring absentmindedly.

"You're still here?" She asked in surprise, clearing her throat. His eyes snapped up, and he stumbled to his feet. She bit her lip, suppressing a small smile.

For an assassin, lightness on his feet seemed to be a skill he lacked.

He fell silent, scowling. Ilaria pressed her lips together, wincing as pain shot through her head once more.
Zahir was next to her in seconds, helping her lie down once more. Ilaria fell silent, body aching in the warmth of the fleece robe.

"Zahir," She murmured, her tone serious once more.
"Why are you helping me?" Guilt flashed across his expression. Ilaria drew into herself, turning away from him.

It was pity.

"You can go," She spoke, her tone cold. She closed her eyes, imagining a thick wall around her frame, keeping everyone and everything from coming close. Ilaria stared at her window, listening for the sound of his feet leaving the room, but she was only met with silence.

"Just go. Don't stay here any more than you have to." She spoke sharply, biting her lip as a lump grew in her throat.

"Do you want me to leave, princess?" He asked, crossing his arms, sitting on the floor and leaning against her bed.

Ilaria declined to answer.

No.

She didn't want to admit to him of all people that someone had never tended to her in such a way.

It was easier to watch them go than to hold any expectation at all.

"Ilaria," Zahir spoke again, and her heart ached.

"I don't care, Zahir. Do what you like." She heard him sigh.

—-------------------

Hours of silence passed, as the princess slept and awoke, staring at the pattern of swirls across her ceiling.

"Eat," Zahir spoke, placing a tray on the nightstand, helping the princess sit. Ilaria stared at him, wide eyed.

"I'm not leaving until you eat." She scowled, crossing her hands over her chest. Ilaria glared, searing into his dark eyes.

He cocked an eyebrow, smirking to himself.

"Unbelievable," Ilaria muttered, ignoring the soft warmth flickering in her chest.

It was nice to be cared for. Even if only for a moment.

She took the bowl of soup from his hands.

"Where did you get this?" She asked, pressing the spoon to her lips. He rolled his eyes.

"A maid left it." She nodded, wincing as the soup scalded the back of her throat.

"Shit," She muttered, coughing. He handed her a glass of water, sitting in a chair he'd brought beside her bed.

"Does your head still ache?" She nodded slightly. His eyebrows pinched together, glancing at her frail form.

"You don't have an illness," he reasoned, and Ilaria winced as recognition flickered in his eyes.

"Are you hurt elsewhere?" He asked softer, and Ilaria shrank into her robe.

"No." She answered sharply, quickly drinking the soup. She averted her gaze, growing uncomfortable under his hard stare. An awkward silence filled the space between the pair.

"Ilaria." He spoke, his tone firm.

"No. I'm not. Just my arm and back." She answered honestly, staring at the bedsheets. Ilaria watched him digest the information, understanding written in his expression. The urge to curl up became overwhelming as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

She quickly downed the remainder of the soup.

Zahir stood, taking her dishes, locking eyes with her.

"If something happens-" He began, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I am not far, Ilaria." She pressed her trembling lips together, breaking away from his gaze.

"Okay," She murmured shakily. She began to reach for him, shoving her arm behind her back.

What the hell was she doing?

Ilaria swallowed thickly.

"Thank you." She murmured. He held her gaze for a moment, nodding his head. He turned away, opening the trapdoor hidden behind her bed. He stood, looking at her one last time.

"I was under strict orders from my sister to tell you hello.." He paused.

"So, hello." He shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Ilaria's lips stretched into a dimpled smile for the first time in weeks. The corner of Zahir's mouth curled up.

"Bye, Zahir."
"Goodbye, Princess."