Page 35 of The Moon's Fury
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“Allright.Let’sgo.”
Zarian’s body sagged with so much relief that Layna feared he would fall to his knees. He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes clenched shut. His lips claimed hers in a fierce kiss, a man reunited with his beloved. He only allowed them seconds before pulling away.
Layna blinked, and he had donned the mantle of disciplined warrior once more.
“We don’t have much time. Pack what you can. Do you have anything that covers your face?”
“Yes,” she said, thinking back to theniqabshe’d wear as a teenager to sneak out of the palace.
“Good. Wear it. Hurry.” He resumed his scan of the room, alternating between the main door and balcony, a white-knuckled grip on his sword.
Layna retrieved a large bag from an armoire, quickly packing whatever necessities she could reach. A covert glance over her shoulder—Zarian was facing the balcony. With deft hands, she quickly pushed the contents further into the bottom of thebag. Her fingers shook as she adjusted herniqab—the gauzy black fabric concealed her face and hair, leaving only her eyes uncovered.
“I’m ready.”
Zarian turned, quickly reaching her side. He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder and clasped her hand.
His grip was iron-tight as he led her through the corridors to the stables. At one corner, Layna moved to turn left, but Zarian tugged her down a different hallway instead.
“This way is faster,” he murmured, and it wasn’t lost on Layna that he knew paths unfamiliar to her in the palace she’d called home her entire life.
They reached the stables, and she went to prepare her horse.
“We can’t take Qamar,” Zarian said as he saddled Najoom. “You’ll be recognized immediately.” She loosed a shaky breath, gently stroking Qamar’s soft, white mane. “I’m sorry.”
Layna cast her arms around Qamar’s neck in a quick goodbye before coming to stand beside Najoom, Zarian’s towering black stallion.
“You’ll be recognized, too,” she said, gesturing to his uncovered face.
Zarian’s smile was terse. “I’m counting on it.”
She clutched Zarian tightly as they rode through the cobblestone streets, eyes darting from person to person, terrified that someone would recognize her even in theniqab. Zarian kept toquiet side streets, but her heart still beat furiously with each breath.
A muffled drumming began to beat in her ears.
She pressed closer into Zarian, taking a deep breath to slow her pounding heart. Sandalwood and spice invaded her senses, the familiar scent so heady, her eyes fell shut. She breathed him in again, the comforting scent that was her home.
Safe. Safe. You are safe.
Her heart calmed.
Her breaths slowed.
The frantic pulsing beneath her skin quieted to a gentle hum. Layna’s eyes widened in surprise. She had tried breathing exercises and meditating, yet nothing had soothed the raging power like his scent.
If Zarian found it odd that she nuzzled his neck, breathing him in like he was a fresh pastry, he didn’t comment on it. In fact, she could have sworn he angled his head to allow her better access.
Najoom snorted impatiently at their slow pace, but Zarian kept him at a gentle trot. By some miracle, they made it to the checkpoint undetected. The line was relatively short at this time of night, and Layna tensed as they inched closer to the guards.
Zarian squeezed her thigh.
“Easy,” he murmured over his shoulder. “Follow my lead.” Najoom nickered as Zarian urged him forward. “Keep your face turned to the side.” He paused, and despite their dire situation, Layna couldhearthe smile in his voice as he added, “Hold onto me as if you’re desperate to be in my bed.”
A flicker of indignation curled within her.Arrogant man. He was going to joke about thatnow? She slid forward in the saddle, flattening her chest against his back. One arm wrapped low around his waist, the other curling across his chest, fingers toying lazily with his tunic collar.
“Like this?” she whispered in his ear.
