Page 65 of The Moon's Daughter

Varin felt no remorse as he contemplated his actions.Let them scorn me, he thought with a grim smile.When the time comes, I will rise above them all.

His mind drifted back to the pivotal moment that changed his fate.

Night had fallen heavy over the Varin estate. In his chambers, the feeble light of a single candle flickered, casting shadows that danced across his worn bedding.

Alone, Varin prepared for sleep, finding no comfort in his evening rituals.

As he left the washroom, a presence in the room, silent as the night itself, announced itself with a sharp blade pressed against his throat. Varin froze, his blood running cold.

The man behind him was a shadow, his breath a dark whisper against Varin’s ear.

“Tell me, Lord Varin,” the voice said, low and dangerous, “how do you enjoy being the source of pity and derision? The kingdom laughs at you.”

Terror gripped him, yet a spark of anger flared deep within. “Who are you?” he hissed, attempting to mask his fear.

The man chuckled, a hollow sound, as if the life had been wrung from it. “A friend,” he said mockingly, “or perhaps your only chance to regain what you’ve lost. A chance to restore your family’s name and claim the power you seek.”

Varin, despite the blade at his throat, found himself listening, a desperate hope kindling within him. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“Your loyalty,” the man replied. “And in return, I offer you the chance to strike at the heart of Alzahra. A chance to reclaim your honor. And your wealth.”

The proposition was tempting: an escape from the mire of his current existence. Yet, the risk was immense. It required the betrayal of his kingdom and his people.

And, if caught, the price would be his head.

Varin’s gaze hardened as he weighed the intruder’s words against the heavy silence of the room. “And if I accept? What do you require of me?”

The shadow’s response came with an air of casual malevolence, as if he were discussing the weather instead of high treason. “Merely two tasks,” he murmured, his voice like silk as the blade’s edge pressed ever so slightly against Varin’s skin. “First, use your influence to sway the council toward war with Zephyria. Shatter their cherished peace.”

Varin’s breath caught at the audacity of the demand, but the man continued unfazed. “Second, I require information. Regular updates, particularly about the crown princess. Her actions, her plans, anything unusual. You have access, Lord Varin. Use it.”

The blade withdrew, but before Varin could turn around, the man melted into the shadows. Varin was left alone, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. Would he dare align with this mysterious figure and gamble everything on the promise of power and wealth?

The night stretched on, and Varin sat in the darkness, contemplating the crossroads before him.

But in his heart, the choice had already been made.

In the royal greenhouse, Soraya found peace among the vibrant blooms and lush foliage. At night, the greenhouse transformed into a magical escape, illuminated by flickering lanterns that made the leaves and petals shimmer as if imbued with their own inner light.

The air was always fresh, brimming with the earthy scent of soil and the subtle perfume of flowers. For Soraya, it was a haven where her troubles melted away, if only for a while.

Lately, her visits had become more frequent, each trip an effort to escape her sorrow since Almeer was forced to flee. She cherished the memories of their time together—his inquisitive gaze when he asked about her plants, the gentle timbre of his voice as he told her of his life back home, and the comfortable warmth of his embrace.

A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek, quickly wiped away. She resolved to remain strong until they could be reunited, drawing strength from the peace her greenhouse provided.

As she tended to asilpharoonplant, her thoughts drifted to Layna and Zarian. Despite her own sadness, Soraya was happy for her sister who was finally exploring the possibility of love with the prince. Zarian brought Layna a joy she hadn’t seen in ages.

Glancing at the old clock near the glass door, Soraya realized it was almost time for her nightly visit to Layna’s chambers. Recently, they spent nights playing card games, another pastime from their childhood. She knew it was Layna’s way of comforting her, though it no longer lifted her spirits as it once might have.

Then, an idea sparked in her mind.

She left the greenhouse and headed to the council chambers, where she found Zarian alone, absorbed in the maps and documents spread before him. His brows were knit together in concentration, and a quill was clenched between his teeth. Normally, she might have teased him about it, but her heavy heart stifled any playful remark. He glanced up as she entered, taking the quill from his mouth, concern replacing his focus.

“Zarian,” Soraya greeted softly, “I’m joining Layna for an evening of card games. She can be quite competitive, as you know.” They shared a small smile. “If you have some time for leisurely pursuits, we’d love for you to join us.”

Zarian gave her a grateful smile. “It would be an honor. Thank you for the invitation.”

Together, they walked through the palace corridors, the silence between them comfortable. Soraya’s steps felt a little lighter, even if her heart still ached for Almeer.

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