Page 15 of The Moon's Daughter

Zarian watched her for a long, silent moment, so long that Layna thought he might not answer at all. Then, a decisive look crossed his face before he finally spoke. “The Medjai are an ancient order. They are keepers of peace, tasked with maintaining the balance of our world. Their allegiance is to the realm itself, not to any one ruler or nation. Except the Oasis, I suppose.”

His eyes searched her face intently, though Layna couldn’t discern what he hoped to find.

Her mind raced back to a childhood memory, a fragment of a conversation she once overheard with Soraya. They had hidden behind a tapestry, listening to their father speak with a mysterious visitor about the Medjai and some sort of prophecy. Her parents had also mentioned something about a prophecy on the day that Zarian first arrived.

“I’ve heard rumors about the Medjai and their connection to a prophecy,” she remarked casually. “Is there any truth to these tales?”

Zarian again studied her, his expression unreadable. “Prophecies are complex, Princess. They can be both a guide and a riddle.”

Layna exhaled sharply in frustration at his continued evasion. “Your tattoo. Is it related to the Medjai?”

A flicker of surprise crossed Zarian’s features, quickly replaced by a playful smirk. “Princess—when, might I ask, did you have the opportunity to see my tattoo?”

Layna felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. She had seen it that first evening when he was training, his tunic cast aside, revealing the intricate ink on his skin. “It—it was on the training grounds. You were training. Without your shirt,” she stammered, her cheeks reddening.

Zarian’s smile broadened as he observed her, but he offered no further inquiry, allowing the moment to pass. “Yes, it’s related to the Medjai. It symbolizes a commitment to something greater than myself.”

Before Layna could interrogate further, Lord Ebrahim approached. “Princess Layna, your presence is requested in the council chamber.”

“Of course, Lord Ebrahim,” she agreed. Turning to Zarian, she said, “We’ll continue this conversation another time.” With that, she followed Lord Ebrahim, her mind still mulling over the enigma of the Medjai and the prince who stood apart from the rest.

As she walked alongside Ebrahim, her thoughts lingered on her conversation with Zarian. His connection to the Medjai, his indifference to royal norms, and his enigmatic tattoo painted a picture of a man who was something more than a prince. The more she learned about him, the more she realized how little she knew.

Layna addressed the senior adviser. “Prince Zarian mentioned the Medjai at the Oasis,” she remarked. “There’s much I wish to understand about them. They seem shrouded in mystery. Could you enlighten me?”

Lord Ebrahim studied her closely, eyes slightly narrowed behind his spectacles. He ran a hand over his short, white beard before finally responding. “The Medjai have been allies to our monarchy for centuries. Their wisdom and role as guardians have been crucial. Most kingdoms work with the Medjai in some shape or form, but we generally try to limit knowledge of their existence.”

Layna listened intently, her thoughts racing. “If the Medjai have been such critical allies, why was I not taught about them in my lessons? It seems like important knowledge for a future queen.”

Ebrahim glanced at her, his expression a mix of understanding and regret. “Princess, the Medjai are enigmatic, operating in the shadows to protect the continent. They are secretive about their work, history, and methods. It’s a delicate balance—knowing of their existence and influence, yet not fully understanding the depth of their involvement. The decision to keep details discreet was to protect their anonymity and efficacy. However, I agree that perhaps we should have provided you with more knowledge and shared some of their ancient texts from the library.”

Layna found his last admission odd. She had spent countless hours in the library but never encountered any texts about the Medjai, which now seemed like a glaring omission in her education.

Had it been intentional?

Nonetheless, she absorbed his explanation, puzzle pieces slowly fitting together in her mind. The Medjai’s existence as shadowy protectors and Zarian’s presence in Alzahra were somehow intertwined.

“Thank you, Lord Ebrahim. Your insights are always enlightening.”

Lord Ebrahim chuckled softly. “It is not my insights, Layna. You’ve always been intelligent.” He patted her head affectionately. “Never doubt your instincts. You have a good heart and a sharp mind. You will find your way as you always have.”

Layna smiled. “Thank you.”

“I received a letter from General Idhaan, by the way,” Lord Ebrahim mentioned as they rounded a corner. “He asked about you, as usual. He wanted to know how your sword fighting is progressing.”

Idhaan had been her first instructor in her teenage years. He was eventually promoted and stationed far from the palace. Yet he never failed to check up on his favorite pupil.

“I’ll have to write to him and let him know I can best Soraya now!” Layna said, prompting a shared laugh between her and Ebrahim.

They arrived at the council chambers and took their seats at the round table. The chamber, with its high vaulted ceilings, large windows, and ornate tapestries, was abuzz with the low murmur of the advisers gathered around the massive table.

Layna’s heart sank at the sight of Burhani. As if sensing her presence, Burhani’s eyes flicked up, her gaze narrowing as she glanced between Layna and Lord Ebrahim. Burhani pursed her lips, a shadow of irritation crossing her face that she didn’t bother to mask.

As Layna settled into her seat, her gaze swept across the council members, each representing a crucial pillar in Alzahra’s governance. The council was a diverse assembly of wisdom and strategy, guiding the kingdom through times of peace and conflict alike.

There was Lord Varin, the master of war. A short man with broad shoulders, he had spent decades serving Alzahra’s military. As the commander of the kingdom’s forces, he was responsible for its defense. Though Alzahra had enjoyed prolonged peace, the growing tension with Zephyria thrust Varin back into the limelight, shifting his focus from theoretical strategies to actively preparing for the looming specter of war.

Lady Mirah, the master of coin, was a woman of sharp intellect and shrewd economic insight. Her expertise in trade, finance, and economic policy had steered Alzahra through seasons of scarcity and abundance alike. She managed the kingdom’s treasury, ensuring that its resources were allocated wisely.

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