Page 8 of The Moon's Daughter

On one particular visit, Layna nearly ran into Burhani, who stood just outside the door with a cruel smirk on her beautiful face. Unlike her father, Burhani had deep ochre skin, piercing blue eyes, and waist-length black hair that she often wore in a tight braid. Lord Ebrahim had never revealed her mother’s identity, but it was evident from Burhani’s striking features that she was Navrastani.

“Still no letter, Princess?” Burhani sneered, arms crossed over her chest. “I wonder what kind of impression you made. It’s a shame I wasn’t here to see it.”

Layna tensed at the jibe. “Good day to you, Burhani,” she replied tightly.

“Good day, indeed,” Burhani chortled, her full lips curled in a mocking smile. “Must be difficult, no? Waiting on a letter that never arrives.”

Layna took a deep breath. “Your company isalwayssuch a pleasure, but I have duties to attend to. I’m sure you do as well.”

Burhani chuckled. “Of course, Princess.” She didn’t budge, forcing Layna to walk around her.

Fists clenched tightly at her sides, Layna quickly walked away. Burhani’s voice followed her down the hall. “If you do get a letter, be sure to let me know! I’d love to hear what the elusive Prince Nizam has to say.”

Layna gritted her teeth, Burhani’s words cutting deep. Still, she kept her back straight as she gracefully walked away, frustration and sadness clamping around her heart like a vise.

Behind her, Burhani watched with a satisfied smirk.

Weeks stretched into months, and the vibrant colors of the palace gardens faded as the cooler season arrived. Layna’s heart, once uplifted by the promise of Nizam’s letters, now felt heavy, anchored in bleak dejection by his silence.

This period of waiting, of hope turned to disappointment, marked a profound change in Layna. The innocence of first love gave way to a more guarded heart. Now viewing the world through a lens tempered by realism, she dismissed the tales of love and chivalry that had once captivated her.

She threw herself into her duties with newfound determination, focusing wholeheartedly on the welfare of Alzahra and its people. Her painful heartache forged a stronger, more resilient queen-to-be, one who understood the price of personal desires in the face of royal responsibilities.

Soraya, ever perceptive, noticed the shadow that had fallen over her sister. One quiet evening, as they sat in Layna’s chambers, Soraya reached for her hand. “He doesn’t define your worth, Layna,” she murmured softly. “In a few months, you’ll meet plenty more suitors at the royal ball. Besides, I didn’t like him much anyway.”

Layna knew her sister was right, yet the sting of rejection was sharper than any sword. Had she been too naïve to believe in a fairytale ending? Was the connection with Nizam merely a fleeting wisp of romance, destined to dissipate? She couldn’t fathom why the seemingly smitten prince had made no further attempts at courtship.

If nothing else, Layna yearned for closure.

Despite the months-long silence, the princess was too proud to write to Nizam herself. While she was usually unbothered by breaking societal norms, her pride held firm in this situation. She would not make the next move. Her father’s council informed her that Nizam had safely returned to Baysaht and was actively ruling alongside King Amnaar.

The information served as a bitter reminder. If Nizam had wished to continue their courtship, he had every opportunity to do so. His silence was a clear message—he simply didn’t want to continue what he began in Alzahra.

Instead, he haunted her thoughts like a persistent ghost. This realization was painful, but Layna knew she must accept it and move forward with her dignity intact.

Perhaps, she told herself, this was for the best. Her mother had always cautioned her about entanglements of the heart. In moments of solitude, Layna often reflected on her mother’s lessons. Queen Hadiyah had always emphasized the delicate balance between personal desires and royal duties.

“A heart in love can be a vulnerability for a queen,” her mother once said, her voice laced with decades of wisdom.

As they walked through the gardens one evening, Queen Hadiyah spoke of destiny and duty, her words floating on the gentle breeze. “My dear Layna,” she began, her eyes reflecting the moonlit sky, “there is something you must understand about the path you walk as future queen. Your role, your very destiny, might have been written in the sands of time long before you were born. Your heart, while your own, is tied to the fate of Alzahra. The choices you must make may not always align with the desires of your heart.”

“But isn’t love important, Mama? Can’t it guide my choices as queen?” a young Layna asked, her eyes wide and filled with hope yet untrampled.

Queen Hadiyah stopped and took Layna’s hands. “Love is a powerful force, my child, one that can inspire and empower. But as queen, your first duty will always be to your people. The luxury of following your heart is not yours to claim.”

Layna felt a strange emotion, a wave of sadness mingled with something foreign, realization dawning that her destiny was not hers to shape.

As queen, she would be powerful yet, in many ways, tragically powerless.

“The crown is not just a symbol of power; it is a promise to our people. A promise that may require sacrifices your heart might not be prepared to make.”

In the quiet hours of the night, Layna stood on her balcony, gazing at Alzahra City. Rooftops stretched out for miles, and in the distance, she could just barely discern the high walls that protected her beloved city. One by one, lights flickered and winked out as her people settled into sleep.

Layna glanced up at the moon, hanging brightly in the star-speckled sky. The cool breeze carried a soothing touch, as if the moon itself was wrapping her in an embrace, offering comfort for her wounded heart. As she felt its gentle light on her skin, a chord of deep peace strummed through her, vibrating outwards, spreading to her fingertips and toes.

She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar calmness settle over her.

The moon whispered secrets of resilience and freedom, beckoning her to the world beyond the palace walls.One day, she thought wistfully. Under the moon’s soothing aura, Layna felt a shift within her, a new strength emerging from the ashes of heartache.

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