Page 24 of The Moon's Daughter

Layna faced him. He was a handsome man, with close cropped brown hair and bright, ocean-blue eyes. “Of course, Prince Kareem. I would be delighted,” she replied with a courteous smile, loosely grasping his offered hand.

“Your kingdom’s hospitality is as legendary as its beauty, Princess,” Prince Kareem said as he guided her across the dance floor. “I am enchanted by Alzahra’s charm.”

“Thank you. Maridunia’s prosperity and its ports are equally renowned,” Layna trailed off absently, her words diplomatic yet distant. Her attention was elsewhere, as she sensed a pair of eyes fixed upon her.

Glancing over Prince Kareem’s broad shoulder, she caught sight of Zarian. He was watching them intently from the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed over his chest and jaw clenched tightly. His gaze was predatory, and it sent an unexplained thrill through her.

Trying to refocus on her dance partner, Layna continued politely, “Maridunia’s strategic location must be a boon for trade.”

“It is indeed,” Kareem affirmed, trying to maintain her interest. “We seek to expand our alliances, and a connection with Alzahra would be most beneficial.”

Layna smiled politely, aware of his underlying implication. “Speaking of alliances, congratulations on the recent weddings of your two sisters,” she deflected smoothly.

The music shifted to fast-paced, rhythmic drumbeats, and Layna released Kareem’s hands, swaying her hips in time with the music. She danced the traditional dance of her ancestors, arms outstretched and flowing gracefully, while her partner clapped in time with the beats.

The song ended, and she thanked Prince Kareem and excused herself, her thoughts dominated by the enigmatic Medjai watching her intently.

As the evening progressed, several other princes requested dances with her, all eager to nurture a potential alliance with Alzahra, including Prince Kamal from Sendouk and Prince Malik of the mountainous kingdom of Tarakshan.

During each dance, Layna’s responses were polite but distracted. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Zarian, regardless of his own conversations, seemed to always have his attention fixed on her. His gaze was a constant presence, stoic and unyielding, a silent sentinel observing her every move.

Layna was dancing with Prince Malik, whose hands wandered just enough to make her uncomfortable. Twice, he had brushed her hair back over her shoulder, his hand lingering on her neck. His other hand alternated between caressing her waist and lower back, sending unwelcome shivers down her spine.

The music shifted to a slower, more intimate melody, and Layna saw Burhani approach the dance floor. Draped in a breathtaking red gown with high slits showcasing her long legs, Burhani glided gracefully toward Zarian. Layna watched as she leaned in, her voice syrupy sweet, “Zarian, would you honor me with this dance?”

Zarian hesitated, his eyes briefly flicking to Layna before accepting Burhani’s hand with a courteous nod.

Jealousy knifed through Layna’s heart. It was hardly fair, given how many dance partners she had entertained, but seeing Burhani with Zarian deeply agitated her.

As they danced, Burhani’s melodic laugh rang out, capturing her attention. Layna watched as she subtly invaded Zarian’s space as they moved together across the floor.

Layna stumbled, drawing a concerned look from Prince Malik. “Are you alright, Princess?” Malik asked, holding her upper arms to steady her, his thumbs brushing the sides of her chest.

“Yes, apologies, I just lost my footing,” Layna replied with a forced smile, taking a step back from him. She struggled to focus, her gaze repeatedly drifting back to Zarian and Burhani who were deep in conversation.

As the final notes of the song faded, Burhani’s hand lingered on Zarian’s arm. The prince smiled politely and gently extricated himself from her grasp. With a courteous bow, he stepped away and into the crowd.

Burhani stood alone, her forced smile failing to hide the slight drop of her shoulders.

After Layna left to speak with important guests, Zarian watched her be courted by various princes. Each dance she accepted sent a searing wave of jealousy through him. He watched her glide across the floor, her laughter and smiles reserved only for her dance partners, feeling a dull ache in his chest each time their hands touched hers.

Lips set grimly, he watched as the handsy Prince Malik traced idle circles on Layna’s lower back, his fingers venturing lower with each pass. She was stiff, angling herself away from him as her eyes darted around the room, clearly uncomfortable with his touch.

Rage surged within him, his fingers flexing for his sword. Why had he left it in his room? Only the thinnest thread of self-control and a lifetime of discipline kept him from storming over and breaking Malik’s legs.

Malik brushed Layna’s hair back over her shoulder, his fingers lingering to caress her neck.Sleazy fucking bastard. Zarian was going to kill him.

He was debating whether to slice off one of Malik’s hands or both when a soft voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

“Zarian, would you honor me with this dance?”

He turned to find Burhani standing before him, bright-eyed and smiling, her red gown shimmering under the chandeliers’ light. Zarian hesitated, glancing back at Layna and Malik before taking Burhani’s offered hand.

“Of course,” he replied with a polite smile.

As they joined the other couples on the dance floor, Burhani drew closer, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, fingers gently tracing the fabric of his tunic.

“I’ve been enjoying your presence at the council meetings,” she gushed. “Your advice on the political climate is brilliant.”

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