A Guide to Charming Royals

Chapter Forty-Four: ARIAH

Stars twinkle in the twilight above us. And we yearn to be one of them. A blazing fire that'll explode and cease to exist in a moment, without the baggage of feeling or having to say goodbye. Of having to let go of Deen.

Distance between us has never felt so far. We're standing on Earth, and he's gone. Lost between Heaven and Hell. That's the thing about death. Status, wealth, none of it matters once you take your last breath. Allah decides where you belong and we pray for him, because Deen deserves the best.

We grip the railing tightly as the door to the rooftop pulls open, closing with a soft swish as footsteps pad across the deck. We refuse to turn around, hoping the person will walk away. However, they don't. And somehow, because of their hesitancy, the lack of words spoken, we know who it is.

The silence tugs at us to speak. So, we say, "We don't bite." Yet, the words lack teasing, and rather comes out as a sad, broken whisper.

Madyan's shoulder brushes against our own, as he steps next to us, gripping the ledge so tightly, as though concerned he'll fall. His emerald eyes are a dark mess under the night's gaze.

"We're worried about you."

Our heart twists at his word. He's worried because Deen is dead. Not because he cares about us.

"Do you want Kalen back?"

"We want our brother," he answers. "Not Salar."

"Us too," we whisper. "Why are people so cruel?"

He shrugs, tipping his head to the side. "Because that's the way people are. They will be cruel to you. They will hurt you. And then we end up living in an earthly hell."

We chuckle. "Wow, we didn't realize you're so dark. How are we meant to create less of a hell for ourselves then?"

"We don't know," he answers. "We can say by being kind and gentle, and by being the person you want to meet. But sometimes, it's hard... it's hard to not despise the world."

"May, do you regret marrying us?"

He doesn't answer, so we turn,checking to see he is still paying attention. And he is, his gaze snagged on us. "No," he says, eventually.

A breeze ruffles his hair, brushing strands on to his face. We lift our hand, placing a strand of his hair behind his ear. Madyan's hair is as soft as it looks. His head turns, either from the surprise of our action, or something else. And he stops us, fingers enclosed around our wrist. Then to our surprise, he presses a kiss to the inside of our wrist, then let's go, waiting for us to decide the next move.

It must be the coldness of the night, or the heaviness in our heart, but we rise on the tip of our shoes, as he leans his head down, our fingers dropping from his hair, and down to his chest. His warm breath fans across his face, and we glance up, seeking permission. There's nothing more we want, suddenly, than to feel something other than the ache in our heart.

Slowly, we move our lips closer to his. We've never done this before. But we want to, now. We want to know what he tastes like, what it feels to run from a battlefield filled entirely with monsters. We want something more than being caught between Heaven and Hell. Right now, under the moonlight, with a cold breeze snaking around us, we want Madyan, because we want to be wanted.

Our hand slips to his chest, startled at its lightning pace, in sync to our own, even if it is erratic.

But this makes us realize, it's not fair to him. We can't be with him because we want to feel something other than the sadness consuming us. So, we pull away, ignoring the confusion, and hurt that crosses his features, before it's gone. If we stayed so close to him any longer, we'd forget where to draw the line.