Page 10 of The Moon's Daughter

Layna bowed her head slightly. Despite the gentleness in his tone, the reprimand stung, reminding her of the heavy responsibilities on her shoulders. “Yes, Baba,” she acquiesced quietly.

After leaving her parents’ chambers, a whirlwind of thoughts clouded Layna’s mind. Eager to gossip about Prince Zarian’s arrival, she set off to find her sister.

Layna traversed the palace, her footsteps echoing through the vast corridors. She checked Soraya’s usual haunts—the palace greenhouse, the library, even the quiet alcove in the gardens where her sister often escaped with a book—but she was nowhere to be found.That’s odd, Layna thought.Where could she be?

With a sigh, Layna headed back to her chambers. As she passed through to the private balcony, the cool evening breeze carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine, her gaze drifted to the training grounds below. There, under the soft light of torches, she saw a solitary figure practicing with a sword.

It was Prince Zarian.

In the dim light, he moved with a captivating grace and ferocity. His tunic lay discarded, revealing a muscular, well-defined physique. The torches cast a warm glow over his tanned skin, highlighting the contours of his muscles and the sheen of sweat that already glistened on his back.

Layna’s eyes traced the curve of his biceps, each movement accentuating the strength in his arms. Her eyes followed his every thrust, the sword an extension of his arm. She was reluctant to admit, even to herself, that he was incredibly skilled.

She caught sight of a tattoo on his left pectoral. The ink, a rich, deep black, stood out starkly against his sun-kissed skin. The tattoo was a circular design, and at its center, a crescent moon was cradled within the sun. Thick black whorls branched out in symmetrical designs until just below his collarbone.

An unexpected feeling stirred within her, a mix of intrigue and something more primal. She watched, transfixed, as Zarian executed a series of complex maneuvers, his body moving with a rhythm and assurance that spoke of years, perhaps decades, of training.

Mouth suddenly dry, Layna swallowed deeply and tore her eyes away from the prince. She stepped back from the railing, the image of Zarian’s fluid movements etched in her mind. The night air felt uncomfortably heavy on her skin.

Returning to her chambers, she prepared for bed, her mind a tangle of confusion and questions. She tossed and turned as sleep eluded her. Zarian’s impressive display, his strange tattoo, and the sculpted strength of his body consumed her thoughts.

The next morning, Layna quickly dressed and headed to breakfast. She greeted her parents and Burhani before sitting beside her sister, swiping a pastry from Soraya’s plate. Her younger sister rolled her eyes.

A few minutes later, Lord Ebrahim and Prince Zarian entered, deep in conversation. The two men fell silent as they walked in, but Layna could have sworn she heard Lord Ebrahim mention something about the Medjai.

“Welcome, Prince Zarian,” King Khahleel said, standing to greet him. “We are honored and look forward to your stay here.” Turning to the table, he explained, “Prince Zarian will be providing counsel on palace security and other defense matters.”

“Thank you, King Khahleel,” replied Zarian, nodding his head. “The honor is mine.”

Lord Ebrahim made introductions as they were seated. “This is my daughter Burhani, and these two ladies are Princesses Layna and Soraya,” he said, gesturing around the table.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Burhani and Princess Soraya,” Zarian greeted. Turning to Layna with a smirk, he added, “Princess Layna, I believe we’ve already met.” Layna smiled tightly and busied herself with her plate.

Soraya looked inquisitively at her, but Layna gave her a meaningful look.Later, she conveyed silently with raised eyebrows. She nabbed another pastry from Soraya’s plate, prompting a deep sigh from her sister.

“You certainly have an impressive appetite,” Zarian said to Layna with a teasing smile, nodding at the pile of pastries on her plate. “Do you always start your mornings by raiding your sister’s breakfast?”

Soraya snorted, quickly covering her mouth with her hand, but Layna caught the sound and glared at her.

Turning back to Zarian, Layna shot him a withering look. “It’s only fair. She always takes the best ones.”

Burhani leaned closer to Zarian and loudly whispered, “Don’t listen to her. Princess Layna is just used to getting what she wants.” Layna noticed Burhani’s eyes lingering appreciatively on Zarian’s biceps, the fabric of his navy tunic straining across them.

The princess bristled. “I think Burhani is just jealous of my impeccable taste in pastries.”

Burhani opened her mouth to respond, but Soraya quickly interjected. “Prince Zarian, how long are you staying in Alzahra?”

“For as long as I’m needed,” he said with a cryptic smile and a wink.

Layna furrowed her brow, ready to press further, but then Queen Hadiyah engaged Zarian in conversation, and the meal continued without further comment.

After breakfast, Layna sought out Zarian in the hallway. “Prince Zarian,” she called, quickly catching up as he turned around. “I, um, I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I was caught off guard,” she stammered, playing with the sleeves of her abaya.

The prince gave her a charming smile, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. They were the color of the desert at dusk, reflecting both warm golden sands and deep shadowed dunes.

“It’s alright, Princess,” he responded, still smiling. “I look forward to getting to know you better.” He glanced around the hallway before leaning casually against the wall. “I’m still getting situated in the palace. Perhaps you could show me around?”

“Oh, unfortunately my schedule is quite busy this week. Royal responsibilities and all,” Layna said, wringing her hands. “Perhaps Soraya would have time.”

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