Page 178 of The Moon's Fury
She opened her eyes.
Her breath left her. Maybe her senses, too.
The rooftop was completely transformed beneath the light of the full moon. Flower petals covered the stone floor, a silky sea of red and white. There were candles dotting the terrace ledge, flames flickering gently in the breeze like jugnuflies. In the center, more candles formed a large circle, two pillows placed within. In the back corner, there was a small mattress that Zarian had somehow dragged up here. It was dotted with petals, candles lining the ledge around it.
Her eyes glistened with tears as she turned to him with a watery smile that she hoped conveyed her gratitude. His hand was cool in hers as he led her to the circle. They each knelt on a pillow, facing each other under the moonlight.
Layna grasped his hands and placed them on her chest, right over her heart. She took a deep breath and began reciting the vows he’d taught her earlier.
“Zarian of the Nahrysba Oasis, son of Tahriq and Ruqi. I accept you as my husband and protector, as my partner and confidante, in this life and any that follow. I will honor you, love you, and—”
He arched a brow in challenge, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Obeyyou,” she continued, narrowing her eyes, “in all things. From this breath, until my last breath, I am yours to cherish.” Her heart was thundering in her chest, and she wondered if he felt its incessant pounding against his palms.
Zarian cradled her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He splayed her hands over his chest, the leather of his baldric cool beneath her fingers.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Layna of Alzahra, daughter of Khahleel and Hadiyah. I take you under my protection as your husband, as my partner and confidante, in this life and any that follow. I will honor you, love you, protect you, and obey you—”
Layna’s breath hitched. He’d changed his vows—he was meant to stop after saying he’d protect her.
“—in all things. From this breath, until my last breath, my sword is yours to command.”
A happy, shaky laugh escaped her.
They were married.
He slanted his lips over hers, kissing her so gently, as though he feared she’d break. Their lips moved together with passion, parting and tasting and joining.
Her face was wet with tears, but she couldn’t tell if they were hers or his.
When they finally parted for air, Zarian kept her pressed close against his muscled chest, peppering kisses across her wet face. She wiped his tears away with her thumbs. Another watery laugh bubbled from her throat. She felt giddy, as if all the happiness in existence had found its way into her heart.
“You’re my husband,” she said softly.
“I am,” he agreed, pressing another kiss to her lips. “And I have to tell you something.”
She furrowed her brow, waiting for him to speak. He rubbed the back of his neck.
With a sheepish smile, he said, “I have a ring for you.”
He reached inside his baldric and brought out a small, velvet box. “I didn’t say anything earlier because I thought you might change your mind if you didn’t have a ring for me, too.”
She was speechless.
He was right, of course. If she had known he had a ring, she’d have postponed their wedding until she could present him with one, too.
He opened the box, and Layna’s breath left her again.
The ring must have cost a fortune—a large, round diamond set against a simple, silver band.
“Do you like it?” he asked hesitantly, eyes fixed on her face.
“I love it. It’s perfect,” she breathed. “I’m also glad it’s not moonstone.”
She chuckled at her joke, but he remained serious.
He cupped her face, eyes glinting in the candlelight, and murmured, “You don’t belong to the moon, Layna. You belong tome.”
