Alilah has a favoured spot in her much-loved rose garden: a gnarled tree with a long drooping branch. It is here that she retires to consider the events of the morning. Orvec, she knows, will be in his element before the visiting dignitaries: Beneth by his side. There will be much glad-handing and speech-making in the court today, with every noble family from Orsthai and its hinterlands showering blessings on the new couple.
Thankfully, Alilah is not needed for any of that. Her role will come later.
She closes her eyes and leans her back against the wise old tree, her thoughts still on Surtha. After the terrible scene with their father that morning, he was sent straight to his guest room with orders not to emerge until it was time for the ceremony. Alilah, meanwhile, has spent the afternoon in prayer and contemplation with her mother and the other priestesses, not one mentioning about the breakfast scene until they arrived back at the house.
While they were removing their prayer regalia in Albalia’s morning room, Alilah had ventured to ask, “mother … do you think Surtha is alright?”
Albalia snorted at this. “The boy is sulking over a ruling that didn’t go his way, I expect. I hear he immediately withdrew his application for the securement council after one of his city development proposals was vetoed, in a fit of pique. Well! His mother was exactly the same. Always inclined to sulk as soon as she had to do some hard work. Throwing tantrums as soon as it became clear that she wouldn’t get her way. Always a complaint. Always a gripe. A shame the boy couldn’t have taken after his father instead.”
Her expression had been fierce as she stared into the mirror, pulling out her earrings with greater force than was necessary and impatiently brushing her hair. Alilah hadn’t dared to say anything more.
The breeze is pleasant, carrying the most beautiful scents her way. She allows herself to smile and relax for a moment, until she hears slow footsteps behind her.
Surtha. His arms tightly folded, his gaze cast downward. He walks slowly to the drooping branch and takes his place beside Alilah. They often sat here when they were younger: the two lesser children of the family, the two who would never shine as brightly as Orvec could.
Alilah puts her hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Surtha … won’t you tell me what ails you?”
He shakes his head and smiles a little sadly – not quite looking at her, but turning so that she is in his peripheral vision. “Nothing you can help me with.”
“Is it the ruling?” Alilah is tentative, unsure whether she ought to bring this up. “Mother said you were upset about that. But I hope you know, Surtha, that there will be other chances to make a difference to the city. Do what you want to do. This has been an enormous setback – I can well imagine that – but you can…”
“It’s not the ruling,” he says quietly, “though that didn’t help matters.”
“Father said you had broken off your engagement,” she says gently. “Is that it?”
He still doesn’t look up. Alilah watches him, furrowing her brow and wondering what – if anything – she can do to draw him out. Coax him out of whatever dark place he has disappeared into within himself.
“Surtha?”
She lays a hand on his folded arms, causing him to finally look at her. His eyes are swimming in pain.
A response to @mariannewest's freewrite prompt, drooping branch, and a continuation of my Ballroom Project story.