Page 121 of The Moon's Fury

To the kingdom of Tarakshan.

Carved into the Mountains.

She had never seen anything like it. Tall peaks stretched out ahead, and cut within the sides, were winding paths and buildings. There were tiny fires dotting the kingdom, flickering lights that looked like jugnuflies searching for their mates. Tarak, the capital city, rose in the distance, the palace’s domes and minarets carved within the bones of the mountain itself.

She stood in silence for what could have been hours, absorbing the magnificent sight around her.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. Zarian’s eyes were fixed to her face as he hummed in agreement.

They sat together, Zarian cocooning her against his chest, gazing out at the awe-inspiring landscape. His sandalwood and spice scent, underpinned with fresh mountain air and pine, eased the weight on her soul.

It was a contentment unlike she had ever experienced.

He retrieved a small pouch from his cloak, pouring out a handful of perfectly round, bright green berries into her palm.

“Akhdani,” he said, in response to her quizzical look. “I picked them this morning.”

She frowned at the berries. They looked inconspicuous enough, but—

“They’re safe to eat,” he chuckled, tossing one into his mouth. She plucked one between two fingers and followed suit.

Exquisite flavors exploded on her tongue. It was sweet and tangy and bright all at once—like mirsham fruit, but sweeter. She devoured the berries, then eagerly presented her hand for more. She gobbled those down as well, and he kept refilling her hand until the bag was empty.

Here, on this secluded mountainside, so close to the stars, the ball of grief inside her seemed to shrink. Maybe it was momentary. Maybe tomorrow, the despair would return, stronger than ever.

But for tonight, this was enough.

49

Hehadbeenright.The villagewaswelcoming to newcomers.

Their newly thieved horse behaved as he helped her dismount, calloused hands holding her with reverence. They were promptly greeted by four villagers. She scanned the square, the smell of freshly baked bread calling to her, while he told the men a story they’d concocted—their town had been overrun by outlaws, and they’d barely escaped.

The four men nodded sympathetically, one of them clapping a hand on her love’s shoulder.

Her hand rested on her belly as she turned back to the town.

It seemed like the perfect place for a home.

For a new beginning.

Soraya’s arms were loose around his waist, as if she couldn’t bear to touch him any more than necessary. And why would she?

It had been one week since she’d asked him to take her to Zephyria.

One. Long. Week.

Two more, and she’d be reunited with her love.

They stopped to make camp, and she flew off Ahmar, eager to be away from him.

Her footsteps thudded loudly as she stomped away. Jamil couldn’t figure out why in the moons she was so angry with him. She’d spent the last three days muttering under her breath and shooting glares in his direction.

He hadn’t bothered to ask why.

Restraining a sigh, he dismounted and left to hunt.

They were eating dinner when she finally broke her days-long silence.