Page 82 of The Moon's Daughter

Layna’s gaze dropped to her lap. She braced for a reprimand.

Her father continued, “We can discuss more after the eclipse, but know that we trust whatever decision you make for our kingdom.”

For a moment, she gaped at him, uncertain she heard correctly. She stared at her father in shock who smiled warmly, tenderly patting her head.

Her mother gave her a tight smile, though she remained silent.

The support was a blessing, one she did not expect. But a whisper of doubt echoed in her mind.Was it enough for Alzahra?

In Zephyria’s dimly lit war room, Azhar sat at the head of the table, his generals and scouts spread out before him.

One of his seasoned scouts stepped forward. “Sire, with Valtisaan’s weaponry and our forces, we have breached the southwestern defenses. The enemy is in retreat. Our advance toward the palace is unrelenting,” he reported, his chest puffed out. “The desert’s vastness will slow us, but by midday tomorrow, we will lay siege to the capital.”

Another scout brought news from the northwest. “Several Alzahran villages have been decimated, sire. But we received intelligence that Baysaht’s forces are advancing. 250,000 men, maybe more. Our divided troops won’t withstand their numbers, even with Valtisaan and Ezanek’s aid.”

The room fell silent at this revelation. Azhar felt a flicker of irritation, a dull buzzing in his ears. Baysaht’s sizable force was an unexpected complication. He hadn’t risked another visit to Varin so close to the eclipse.

Azhar maintained his composure, hands steepled, gaze fixed on the map spread in front of him.

“The approaching force from Baysaht…it is a massive number, sire. What are your orders?” a general asked, breaking the silence.

Azhar’s cold eyes lifted, meeting the question with a steely glare. “Our men better quicken their pace and evade them,” he drawled. “No delays or weaknesses. The southwestern front will continue to march to the palace.”

Unease flickered across the faces of his council, a shared shock at his casual dismissal of Zephyrian lives. But no one dared voice any dissent.

“Garrisman,” Azhar commanded. “Assemble thirty of our best men. Tonight, we ride for Alzahra City.”

Azhar dismissed the council and returned to his chambers with determined strides. The anticipation of the coming conflict exhilarated him. He was standing on the precipice of victory.

Preparing for the journey, he carefully secured the orb within his cloak, its surface cool and unyielding. Despite countless hours of study, the orb’s secrets remained locked away. Still, Azhar maintained an unwavering faith that its true powers would reveal themselves at the right time.

As night fell over Zephyria, Azhar and his chosen men descended the narrow mountain roads as quickly as the rough terrain allowed. The thunderous clatter of hooves against rock and earth shattered the silence.

After several hours, harsh mountains eventually gave way to the sprawling desert. The sound of hooves softened to a muted rumble as they transitioned onto the forgiving sands. Clouds of dust glittered under the moonlit sky.

It was then that a soft glow began to emanate from within Azhar’s cloak. Perplexed, he slowed his horse to a stop. With narrowed eyes, he drew the orb from the depths of his cloak. The orb, asleep for centuries, had begun to flicker weakly.

Urging his steed to a swift gallop, Azhar clutched the glowing orb tightly. As horse and rider charged across the sands, the orb’s light grew brighter with each mile closer to Alzahra.

In the quiet of her chambers, Layna paced uneasily. She sighed and glanced again at the clock, longing for Zarian’s presence to anchor her anxious thoughts.

Hearing a faint movement on the balcony, she rushed through the open doors. Before Zarian could secure his footing, she was in his arms, clinging to him as if he could physically hold her fears at bay. He wrapped his muscled arms around her tightly, a fortress against the uncertainty that overwhelmed her.

“Everything will be alright,” Zarian whispered, his voice a soothing wave. They moved to the divan as he continued to weave words of comfort around her.

“I just wish I knew what to expect,” Layna murmured. “Everything will change tomorrow.”

“If I had to guess,” he said softly, “you’ll gain some sort of powers. That’s why the elders are so worried. But beyond these gifts, you will remain Layna, the soul who has captivated me beyond measure.” Zarian watched as Layna bit her lip. “Or maybe nothing will happen, and all this worry will have been for nothing.”

She chuckled weakly.

Though comforted by his words, Layna noticed a subtle stiffness in his posture. It was barely perceptible, but to her, it was as glaring as the desert’s midday sun. He seemed preoccupied, his thoughts miles away, entangled possibly in the war or the prophecy.

She wanted to ask what troubled him, to offer the same comfort he had given her, time and time again, but the words remained stuck in her throat. Instead, she leaned into him, seeking peace in his proximity.

With gentle determination, Layna pressed her lips to his in a tentative kiss. It was a kiss born of a desire to forget, if only for a moment, the uncertainty of tomorrow.

The kiss deepened as their lips moved together, kindling a warmth that spread through them both. Without breaking away, Layna straddled Zarian’s lap, pressing her body against his.

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