Page 30 of The Moon's Daughter

“Does he know who you are?” Layna asked, concern coloring her voice.

Soraya nodded. “He does, and he understands the need for discretion. That’s why we meet in secret.” Her expression softened. “He’s kind, Layna, and he listens. With him, I feel like just Soraya, not a princess who doesn’t meet expectations. It’s a freedom I never knew I needed.”

Listening to her sister’s self-deprecating words, Layna’s heart clenched. She gently grasped Soraya’s hand. “I understand, but please be careful. Not just because of the politics, but for your own heart.”

“I will be. I promise.” Soraya pulled Layna into a tight embrace. When they pulled back, she added, “I think you should go find Zarian.”

Layna nodded, and with a heavy heart, she left Soraya’s chambers.

The soft, early morning light filtered through the sheer drapes of their private chambers. King Khahleel and Queen Hadiyah sat close together in their bed.

The royal ball was a clear success, each detail executed to perfection, but it was the developments between their daughter and Prince Zarian that now consumed their thoughts.

Hadiyah leaned into Khahleel, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. “I fear Layna is growing too close to the Medjai prince…far too close,” she whispered, her forehead etched with worry. “Their dance strayed near the bounds of propriety, did it not?” The queen looked thoroughly scandalized, a flush of indignation creeping up her neck to her cheeks.

Khahleel sighed deeply. “I have observed the same,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the morning light. “Yet, I have held my tongue.”

“Should we not dissuade her? Or perhaps rebuke Zarian for overstepping his bounds?” Hadiyah pressed.

Khahleel shook his head. “No. Zarian has proven himself trustworthy and honorable.” The king paused. “I like him,” he said matter-of-factly.

“But what of Layna’s duty to forge a strong alliance through marriage? I have been preparing her for it her entire life.”

Khahleel faced his wife, his hand reaching out to lovingly caress her cheek. “My heart does not feel inclined to push her in that regard,” he confessed, his voice heavy with a father’s love. “Her destiny, intertwined with the prophecy, will already place upon her burdens far beyond her choosing. Should we begrudge her this sliver of happiness as well?”

Hadiyah looked into Khahleel’s eyes and found there the same compassion that healed her heart all those years ago. The weight of destiny and duty was a constant shadow over their family, and the thought of Layna facing her path without the comfort of love was painful.

“I don’t like it. The council will not be pleased,” Hadiyah sighed. “But, perhaps, you are right.”

Khahleel nodded. “Let us offer our guidance, but also trust her judgment. Layna is strong, wise beyond her years. She will navigate these waters with the grace and dignity that has always defined her.”

Before dawn, Zarian awoke, his mind a tempest of emotions. The ball had ignited something deep within him. He could no longer deny that Layna completely owned his heart. Yet, the weight of his secrets—his mission and the prophecy—loomed over him.

He was drawn to her, enraptured by her strength and heart, but there were parts of him she could not know, secrets he must guard. She desired him now, but what would happen when she discovered his true purpose in Alzahra?

Would she still feel the same?

Standing by the window, he looked out over the palace grounds, awash in the dim pre-dawn light. The tranquility contrasted with the tempest raging within him. The peaceful morning mocked him with its serenity as he wrestled with his desires. He was a Medjai, sworn to his duty, yet his heart rebelled, yearning for something achingly, tantalizingly beyond his reach.

With a sigh, Zarian dressed and headed to the training grounds, hoping physical exertion would help clear his mind.

The grounds were deserted at this early hour, a silent stage awaiting its lone performer. Zarian began his routine, each movement precise and deliberate. As he swung his sword, he replayed the night’s events—Layna’s laughter, the closeness of their bodies, his lips on her soft skin.

But with each thrust and parry, he forced himself to focus on his duty. He was here to protect Layna, ensure the prophecy was fulfilled, and guard the balance, not to indulge in feelings that could cloud his judgment.

And if she threatened the balance, what would he do then?He couldn’t stomach the thought, pushing it far from his mind.

When he looked at her, it wasn’t the future queen or the foretold Daughter he saw, but the headstrong, vulnerable woman who had captured his heart.

He saw the fire in her eyes when she was angry, the beauty mark on her collarbone, the embarrassed blush that often graced her cheeks.

Lost in these reflections, he continued his training.

He was in themoharibstance, knees bent and sword aimed at the sky, when he heard soft footsteps approaching. He paused, turning toward the sound, his heart quickening as he recognized Layna’s silhouette in the early morning light.

Approaching cautiously, Layna watched Zarian train, a mighty lion in human form. Her eyes drank in every detail—the sculpted cut of his muscles, the wind tousling his hair, and the sun glinting in his hazel eyes. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, etching the image into her memory forever.

Hearing her footsteps, Zarian halted his practice, acknowledging her with a smile. “Princess,” he greeted.

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