A Guide to Charming Royals

Chapter Thirty-Four: LEILA

I have Rami's journal.

It occurred to me that I had it in my items when I went searching for a way to figure out the relationship dynamics between Rami and Sohail. Though I really shouldn't, I flip through his journal, searching for anything that would hint at the past.

The first thing I notice is that Rami has beautiful handwriting. Absolutely amazing, like a Microsoft font. Second, he dates his entries, which is very cute. The first entry in the journal is dated a couple of months ago, in which Rami only mentioned leaving the palace.

The second entry states he's going to find Kalen because he believes he's alive. That sounds ambitious.

It's the third entry that makes me pause. It's longer, and has familiar names.

I came to Calgary looking for Kalen, and I'm so thankful for the hunch, because if I hadn't been here, I don't know what would've happened to our princess and Madyan. Madyan–yes, he's here with our Şehzadi. It was easier to pretend he was Harris's son when he was younger. But now, he looks so much like his father. We can't ignore it.

I throw the journal to the ground, as soon as the entry ends, shoving my face into my pillow just in case there are cameras around, someone trying to catch me interfering into the business of royals.

But, oh my goodness. Does this mean Madyan isn't Uncle Harris's son? Then whose is he? Does he know this? Does Ariah?

I rush out of the room, indulged by the need to return Rami's journal to him, before anyone traces it back to me. It takes a lot of directions to get to his bedroom, but when I get there, through the ajar door I find hat Auntie Omaiza is inside with him.

"–to run?" Auntie Omaiza asks. "To never return?"

"Running is good for the body," Rami answers, his head turned in the slightest. I should consider jogging every day from now on. Perhaps, he'll like that.

She laughs, the sound like a light breeze. And somehow it's harsh, and hits Rami, who winces. "We've known you since you were a young boy. You have a habit of running."

His lips part, about to protest perhaps, or agree, I'm not entirely sure. In the end, he does neither and shakes his head. Rami takes a step forward, closer to the door, toward me.

"We may not be royal-born, but we've been around enough for the last thirty years to know, we've never met one quite like you." At her words, he closes his eyes, lips tightly shut. "Even though you pretend to hate the royal system, the world must respect you, be kind to you, otherwise you'll run as soon as it disobeys you."

"Isn't that what you've also been doing for the past seventeen years, Omi? We didn't run from you, but you never bothered to look our way."

"Our Kalen is gone," she seethes. "He's gone because of your foolishness, of whatever twisted thing inside of you decided you'd ruin your entire family because of your need to impress your friends. So, forgive us, if the sight of you bothers us very much."

A brow raises, challenging, spilling the same venom Auntie Omaiza secretes. "And Madyan? The sight of him doesn't bother you?"

"He's our son." Each word is emphasized, spoken with enough weight that makes Rami bow his head. "We've forgiven you for a lot of matters, Rami, so don't you go there."

"And we don't deny it," he whispers, a slight tremble to his voice, "but as much as he is yours, he's–"

Suddenly, Auntie Omaiza is so close to him, shoving at his chest, pushing him back until he hits the wall. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Rami, or we'll cut off your tongue. Madyan is our and Haaris's son. We gave birth to him. We woke up for him during the nights when he wanted to be fed. We raised him. We held his hand when he first learned to walk. We took him to school. We held him when he cried and kissed him when he wanted to be loved. We played with him. We stand by his side today. So, don't you dare tell us anything different."