Page 21 of The Moon's Daughter

Zarian nodded in understanding.

“Remember, Zarian,” Jamil cautioned, his voice surprisingly gentle, “our duty is to the balance. Personal feelings…they have no place in this. You know what you might have to do. I’m sorry.” He placed a comforting hand on Zarian’s shoulder.

Zarian did not respond. As Jamil disappeared into the night, he remained alone, his thoughts a swirling mix of duty, destiny, and an unwanted emotion he tried to suppress.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Layna stood alone in the vast expanse of the Alzahran desert. Above her, the night sky was a mural of glimmering stars, the moon hanging low and full, casting a silver glow over the sandy dunes.

As she gazed upward, the moon began to change, slowly engulfed by a creeping shadow. The desert around her came alive, the sands stirring and forming patterns that danced with a life of their own.

The shadow concealed the moon, and the sky turned a deep, blood-red. Layna spun around frantically, fear constricting her lungs, as the desert sands rose up around her. She searched for an escape, for help, but found nothing.

She was utterly, helplessly alone.

The rising sand formed the shapes of ancient warriors and terrifying, legendary beasts. They encircled her, red monstrous eyes glowing ominously.

Layna bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding so hard she feared it might burst from her chest. Outside her window, the moon hung heavy, a silent sentinel in the night sky. Cold sweat dripped down her back, her thin nightgown clinging to her like a second suffocating skin. With concerted effort, she drew deep steadying breaths, attempting to rise above the terror.

Breaths finally slowing, she reclined back, the moonlight bathing her in its light. She had experienced this nightmare since childhood, but recently, it had become a frequent nocturnal visitor, each time leaving her trembling with fear. Each awakening felt like emerging from a harrowing ordeal that blurred the lines between dream and reality.

Eventually, her heartbeat settled, and she drifted to sleep once more.

As the days slipped into weeks following the croquet match, vivid nightmares continued to haunt Layna in the stillness of the night, and the ghostly echoes resonated during her waking hours. They followed her like a persistent shadow, a lingering dread she couldn’t escape.

Amidst the daily demands of royal life, it was Zarian’s presence that offered brief moments of distraction from her fears. Layna noticed their paths crossed more often, but she couldn’t tell ifshewas the one unconsciously seeking him out or ifhewas deliberately looking for her.

She remembered a particular instance in the corridors when she hastily rounded a corner and had collided squarely with Zarian’s muscled chest. He had caught her by the waist, steadying her with a gentle firmness that sent a shiver down her spine. His hands had lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary, a featherlight caress, but Layna was surprised to find that she didn’t quite mind. His apologetic smile had been infuriatingly charming, leaving her both annoyed and secretly thrilled.

Another time, she covertly observed him from a balcony. A young servant had stumbled, scattering a stack of linens across the floor. Zarian knelt beside the flustered boy, helping to quickly gather the linens, his attitude devoid of the condescending and haughty attitude often exhibited by nobles.

To make matters worse, the prince’s presence in Layna’s life became increasingly pronounced after her father requested Zarian’s attendance at council meetings. These sessions, once a refuge where Layna could immerse herself in the kingdom’s affairs, now became another place she couldn’t escape him. Zarian’s astute observations only intensified the tangled web of emotions Layna felt toward him. Each meeting, she found herself inadvertently seeking his opinion, his deep voice resonating with a quiet authority that both excited and frustrated her.

On one occasion, she arrived early to the meeting but stopped in her tracks at the sound of Burhani’s uncharacteristically sweet voice. Through the doorway, she saw the perpetual source of her torment batting her eyes at Zarian, inquiring about the Oasis with a coy smile. From what Layna could tell, Zarian kept his responses formal and polite, yet an irrational jealousy still twisted her insides, burning through her veins with startling intensity.

And then there was Zarian’s growing rapport with Soraya. After breakfast one morning, her sister had insisted on a spontaneous horseback ride through the desert, and to Layna’s surprise, he had readily agreed. Watching them return, laughing and sharing stories, Layna couldn’t help but appreciate his willingness to indulge her sister.

Layna was immersed in these thoughts during an early morning training session on the quiet grounds when the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Clutching a heavy weight to her chest, she performed deep squats, feeling the familiar burn in her thighs before rising smoothly with each repetition. As she finished her set, she went to put the weight down, but her grip faltered unexpectedly. She lost her hold, and the weight plummeted toward her foot.

With a sharp yelp of surprise, Layna jerked back just in time, narrowly avoiding several broken toes. Her hasty movement threw off her balance, and she careened backward, landing awkwardly on the dusty ground with a loud thud. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, gasping as she sat there catching her breath.

“That’s quite the mouth on you, Princess,” a deep voice drawled from behind her.

Layna whipped her head around, eyes locking on Zarian who leaned nonchalantly against the gates of the training grounds, arms crossed casually over his broad chest.

Her mouth gaped as she took in his relaxed posture. How long had he been watching her?

Flustered and speechless, Layna scrambled for a sharp response. “Must you always sneak up on me?” she finally snapped, her eyes narrowed.

Zarian’s smile widened. He straightened and strolled over, extending a hand to help her up. The princess waved it away angrily, avoiding his gaze. “I’m quite content here, thank you,” Layna huffed, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He studied her for a moment before, to Layna’s surprise, he sat down across from her, his black trousers gathering dust as he crossed his long legs. His unwavering gaze captured her attention. Today, he seemed more serious, his usual flirtatious demeanor subdued.

Layna’s eyes traced the contours of his chiseled cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. The bridge of his nose was slightly crooked, the only flaw marring his otherwise perfect features. As her gaze drifted lower, she noticed the buttons of his tunic were undone, revealing the upper edge of his tattoo. Flustered, she quickly looked away.

“You were talking to Burhani yesterday after the council meeting,” she blurted out, not quite meeting Zarian’s eyes as she worried her lower lip between her teeth.

Zarian quirked a half-smile. “I was.” His gaze drifted to her lips before trailing over the long column of her neck. “She was telling me about her visit to Janta.”

---