𝔽𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟 || 𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕒𝕥𝕠 𝔸𝕪𝕒𝕥𝕠

40. Regret Is The Line Between You And Me

The royal blue curtains in the king's office were drawn, blocking out the view of the endless night sky that the window provided. Though, there was nothing much to view on that particular night, for clouds draped the starlit plane with fluffy sheets of blue and grey. The ethereal light of the nearly full moon was trapped behind midnight's wisps, making everything in its general vicinity glow just enough to be unsettling. Constellations were completely engulfed in the darkness, unable to offer solace to those that longed for it.

Such a unique atmosphere would be haunting to most, for they feared the darkness and the things that lurked within, but it was still nature, undeniably and most definitely a work of the merciless force that folks coined Mother Nature. And the curious thing about nature is that it holds an ethereal beauty within itself, regardless of what form it takes.

People coo the butterflies and the sun, but the moths and the moon too have grace, do they not? Still, they who praise the beauty of the dark often praise the things that glow within, and never the darkness itself. Such a dilemma tunnels a rabbit hole downwards until finally, there are those at the bottom, who understand that the shadows themselves are the epitome of elegance, for what else would still hold such high standards of magnificence upon themselves, even though no one admired them?

Kanari was one such soul to notice the ephemeral tapestries that nature weaved, always observing the universe's movements in the moments she had to herself. Yet right now, she was considerably more occupied with the man sitting before her.

The usual light demeanor of Ayato's that she'd fallen in love with was replaced with grim regrets. Every line on his remorseful face emanated sorrow as he stared at her wistfully. They sat opposite of each other, the same way they did when they met, but instead of a chessboard between them, a silver platter of slowly cooling tea was set on the table.

"Kanari, please say something."

Kanari kept her gaze on the table, unresponsive. Her porcelain teacup had been on its way to her mouth, but now it hovered in the air, ripples dancing on its surface as her hand shook. The craving for the warmth of tea she had earlier was now replaced with a curdling feeling in her stomach. She set the cup down, barely comprehending if she was breathing or not. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ayato staring at her intently, but she couldn't bring herself to return his gaze.

"There was no other alternative?" She whispered, her soft voice loud in the silent room.

"No, I truly tried to find one," responded Ayato. "I promise you if there were any other way, I would've chosen it, but all of my options would've put a lot of people's lives at risk."

Kanari nodded slightly. "I know."

"I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Me neither."

She finally turned to meet his eyes, and they were as desperate as she'd imagined. A mesmerizing shade of violet that could pierce even the most cold-hearted, they shone with longing, crystals twinkling within them as they reflected all the hues of his despair.

"I don't blame you for the situation we've landed ourselves in." She weaved her fingers together as they lay on the desk. "You had to do it. It was for the sake of the kingdom." And me, she thought, but she didn't say that out loud.

Ayato still looked regretful as she spoke, staring deep into her eyes with the tiredness of a wizened old man.

"You're selfless to the point of overworking yourself for the sake of others. You even go so far as to neglect your health. Though rather unhealthy, the instinct to commit acts of servitude for people you barely know personally is something I admire in you."