Page 96 of The Moon's Daughter

“Soraya insisted on staying with you,” Zarian said, drawing the covers over her. “She’ll be here when you wake.” Layna nodded and closed her eyes.

Zarian lingered a moment longer before quietly exiting the room, the door closing softly behind him.

In the days following her emergence from the coma, Layna and Zarian tried to weave the fragile threads of their lives back into normalcy. Yet, this fleeting peace was interrupted by the arrival of the Medjai elders, accompanied by King Tahriq.

The air in the great hall was thick with anticipation, as if the very stones of the palace held their breath. Seven elders in pristine robes, most with long white beards, stood before Layna, Zarian, Lord Ebrahim and Hadiyah.

Zarian greeted his father with a cold rigidity. Once, he would have knelt before King Tahriq and received a warm embrace upon rising. This time, however, he remained resolutely upright, offering only the barest nod in acknowledgment, his feet firmly planted by Layna’s side.

The elders silently took their positions before Layna, their sharp gazes fixed unerringly on her. Their probing eyes seemed to wait with bated breath for any sign of the power that had shaken their world.

Unease crawled up Layna’s spine under their blatant appraisal. She stiffened, fingers fidgeting nervously under their gaze.

Zarian’s eyes flicked down to her hands. He edged closer, until the length of his arm pressed against hers. The warmth of his touch grounded her. Layna’s posture softened as she stood straighter, her hands relaxing at her sides.

The elders’ sharp gazes flickered from Layna to Zarian, their expressions shifting from intense scrutiny to staunch disapproval. Deep frowns creased their lined, weathered faces.

Despite their disdain, Zarian remained undeterred. He locked eyes with the head elder, his chin raised in defiance, an unspoken challenge passing between them.

After a tense moment, the head elder relented. “Let us begin,” Zanjeel declared, waving his hand dismissively. “We will only speak with the princess and our prince.”

Hadiyah opened her mouth to protest, but Layna gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, Mama,” she reassured quietly. Hadiyah took a deep breath before giving a terse nod. With a final, lingering glance at the elders, she turned to leave, Lord Ebrahim following close behind. The senior adviser stopped in front of Zarian, locking eyes with him. A brief, silent exchange passed between the two men, and Zarian gave a subtle nod of understanding. Satisfied, Lord Ebrahim followed Hadiyah out of the hall.

The remaining group quickly took their seats. Zarian recounted the ordeal to the elders, piecing together the events as best as he could recall. He again omitted the tale of his death and rebirth, for reasons he did not quite understand. He had kept the full extent of what occurred a closely guarded secret, not breathing a word to anyone.

As he handed the fragmented remnants of the orb to the elders, he watched as their expressions turned grave. Brows furrowed, eyes darkened, and lips tightened into thin lines at the sight of the shattered orb. The old men exchanged worried glances.

The head elder cleared his throat. “So, she remembers nothing? Nothing at all?” he inquired, his gaze shifting between Zarian and Layna.

“Nothing,” Layna confirmed, her voice marked with frustration.

The elder’s nod was grave. His sharp eyes remained fixed on Layna. “Since that day, have you feltanyhint of the powers returning? Even the slightest trace?”

Layna held his penetrating gaze, her voice unwavering, “No, there has been nothing.”

Still, the elders were not convinced, insisting on conducting their own tests.

What followed was an intrusive, lengthy examination that Zarian watched with growing anger. The elders subjected Layna to a barrage of stimuli—loud sounds, blinding lights, and even physical pain. One elder, Hilder, made a small incision on her palm to observe any unusual healing response.

Zarian’s tolerance dwindled rapidly. He hovered nearby, fists clenched tightly and mouth set in a grim line. When he could bear it no longer, he intervened, his voice vibrating with barely contained rage. “Enough,” he commanded, his deep voice echoing through the hall.

The elders, taken aback by his interruption, shot him scowling looks of displeasure. Zanjeel watched him with a calculating gaze, his eyes sharp like a hawk.

Next, the elders shepherded Layna and Zarian back to the terrace. Layna’s steps were hesitant as she climbed the narrow flight of stairs.

The terrace’s vast expanse unfolded before them, the scene of her transformation starkly unchanged. The sun bore down on the group, but its warmth was useless against the cold apprehension coiling in her belly.

Her heart raced and her head swam. A pounding drum began to beat painfully behind her eyes. As she gazed at the twin pillars, a strong wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

Zarian cast a worried glance in her direction. He placed a reassuring hand on her back, drawing soothing circles until her breathing returned to normal.

Zarian’s eyes fell to the floor where the stones were still stained with soot. He swallowed hard, his chest heavy with grief.

He had buried his brother’s bones in the desert alone.

He didn’t notice Tahriq’s mournful, watery gaze upon him.

One of the elders, Zarqi, swept his gaze across the terrace, pausing at the pillars. Contemplation crossed his weathered features. “Perhaps,” he mused aloud, “we should bind her to the pillar once again. It might serve as a catalyst to reawaken any dormant powers.”

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