A Guide to Charming Royals

Chapter Twenty-Four: ARIAH

We yawn, wiping away the sleep that lingers in our eyes. No one told us we had to wake up at five in the morning, long before the first kiss of dawn graces us. But this is the only time the library belongs only to us, and we can do some research.

We filter our google search, looking for information on a fire about twenty-six years ago. Our findings yield no result, rather a grey box appears on our screen, claiming the content has been blocked by the Royal I.T. services.

What?

First, the I.T. service has no information to share on Uncle Rami's past, and now, they've blocked our searches. Deen would have been useful in this situation, but he's gone and we still haven't heard from him.

We place her head on the maple stained table, closing our eyes for a moment. This was a waste of our precious sleep. Perhaps, we should wait until we're back in Calgary. Then, no one will be able to block our searches.

It sounds like a good idea, and is further encouraged by the thought of our warm bed and comforting blanket. So, we let sleep lull us back toward our chambers. When we reach our door, a guard bows, and says, "Your Highness, Şehzadi Omaiza is waiting for you."

Our heart throbs against our chest. "Where?"

"Inside," he answers. "Forgive my decision if it was wrong, Your Highness, but I told her you were up and somewhere in the palace. She requested to wait in your chambers."

We nod, mutely, slipping past the open doors, and into our room. It's not simply a bedroom, rather a hall that connects our art and bedroom. The entire space is ours, and now it's being infiltrated by Auntie Omaiza. She lounges on the black velvet chaise, nodding her head in greeting once she catches our eyes.

"We hope you don't mind us being here." We do, but we don't know what to say. She is in our chambers, after seventeen years, and pretending that this is an ordinary occurrence when only hours ago she was angry with us about inviting Madyan to Calgary.

Still, we lie, "It's great seeing you here. We thought you had a flight in the morning?"

She rises. "It's been switched to the evening. We're going to a Higher Council meeting in a couple of hours."

The timings of the meeting conflicted with our charity event, so we weren't too concerned about going to the meeting, but now that we know Auntie Omaiza has been invited too, should we change our event timing?

As we toy with this thought, she continues. "We know you'll be leaving for your event soon, so we wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" We chuckle. "Well, thank you. Please do visit again. We're family now."

Her eyes turn to our wounded hand. "How's the injury?"

"It was nothing. A scratch, at most."

She sucks in a soft breath. "Remember when we told you to consider who you hurt when following your decisions?"

"Right, when you told us we remind you of Uncle Rami. We told him this, you know? He said you're wrong." She winces for some reason, either at his name or his response, we're not sure.

"Please, don't hurt our son."

We chuckle, though the words ache us, probing at an old injury. "At this point, we've well established you have a bias toward us. There's nothing we can do about it."

"You don't have children of your own," she answers. "And may Allah give you many–" Not too many we hope. How will we birth them? Are they Madyan's too? We shift in our spot. "–but we lost our son, and you don't know the feeling of losing your child. So please, forgive us if we aren't okay with this relationship after what happened to Kalen."