Page 15 of The Moon's Fury

The servants had spared no luxury when decorating the grand dining hall. Long wooden tables were bedecked with fine, burgundy linens, topped with vases overflowing with flowers freshly cut from the palace gardens—pale blue roses, white lilies, andzuhurwith its lush, purple petals.

Layna stood on the raised dais, along with Lord Ebrahim, Hadiyah, and Soraya, who had surprisingly agreed to attend for Layna’s sake.

Or maybe Zarian’s.

Zarian stood to the side, a dark silhouette against the tapestry-lined walls, his astute eyes surveying the hall. He was wearing another formal tunic, this one black as shadow and threaded with intricate, silver embroidery. He looked captivating, so much that her heart had stuttered when she laid eyes on him. Even still, she missed his simpler tunics.

Today, he looked more a prince and less a warrior. He was tense, his shoulders rigid, fingers constantly flexing and unflexing as if he wanted to wring someone’s neck.

And she knewexactlywhose neck.

As if sensing her gaze, Zarian glanced at her and quirked his lips in a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Since Adrik, he had worked to quell his jealousy and not retreat into himself as he had done in the weeks leading up to the Summit, and she was grateful for it.

The caller announced grandly, “Presenting King Nizam and his entourage!” Her eyes snapped to the large double doors asthey swung open. Nizam walked in, flanked by his guards and servants, golden hair reflecting the chandelier light. He strode towards the dais, and the memory of his first entrance flitted through her mind. Layna couldn’t discern why, but he carried himself with less confidence than the last time he stepped into this hall, though this time, he bore the title of king instead of prince.

She didn’t wait for him to greet her. “King Nizam. Alzahra welcomes you. Your aid during the war was invaluable.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Zarian scowling, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Queen Layna, I thank you for your hospitality,” Nizam said, his voice reaching the farthest corners of the dining hall. “Know that whenever Alzahra calls, Baysaht will respond.” He bowed deeply. “Please accept these humble gifts as a token of my goodwill.” He gestured to the entrance where several servants walked in clutching wooden chests.

The déjà vu gripped her again andsqueezeduntil her heart started beating faster and faster to escape the unwanted memories. She steadied her breath as his servants lined up the chests before the dais. This time, they were opened to reveal gifts in shades of red instead of green. One chest was filled with necklaces and earrings and rings adorned with rubies and garnets and other precious blood-hued stones.

Layna loosed a shallow breath; there was not a single moonstone.

Another chest was filled with the brightest, shiniest of apples, and the last trunk contained fabrics in shades of burgundy and maroon and bright red, like the brilliant sun just before it set over sand dunes.

Nizam met her gaze, hope shimmering in his green eyes. “A coronation gift,” he said softly, only for her ears. Her heartlurched in her chest. She gestured for him to join the royal family on the dais for dinner.

Layna had chosen their seats very carefully. She sat in the center, flanked by Ebrahim and Soraya. There was an open seat for Nizam between Ebrahim and Hadiyah, who sat at the end.

Dinner went relatively smoothly—she was grateful that Lord Ebrahim served as a buffer between her and Nizam. He kept their guest engaged in conversation, inquiring about his mother’s health, ruling matters in Baysaht, and Nizam’s opinion on the Summit.

Her mother, though, was trying her best to meddle. Three times now, she’d brought up Baysaht’s soldiers and how Alzahra would have been doomed without them. She gritted her teeth as Hadiyah blatantly lied and said Layna had waxed and waned about Nizam’s aid for days.

Dessert was served, crispy, airyzalabia, a deep-fried dough soaked in syrup, and soon after, Nizam cleared his throat.

“Layna,” he said hesitantly, glancing at her over Ebrahim’s head. “Would you honor me with a stroll in the gardens?” He looked at her with so much hope that Layna felt like a villain refusing him, even though she had no reason to.

“The hour grows late, and you must be fatigued from the journey,” Layna said diplomatically. “We’ll have ample time to talk tomorrow.”

Disappointment flashed across Nizam’s face before he masked it.

“Of course.”

At breakfast the next morning, Zarian was notably absent.

The meal was almost pleasant, with surprisingly not even a single backhanded remark from Burhani.

Until Nizam asked, “Where is Prince Zarian? He hasn’t joined us for breakfast?”

A heavy silence descended over the room, its weight bearing down on her narrow shoulders.

Ebrahim cleared his throat and set down his steaming mug of coffee. “He offered to review the peace treaties with Valtisaan, Ezanek, and Zephyria—he’s likely still going over them. I’m sure he’ll join us for dinner.” He offered a polite smile. “In the meantime, perhaps you’d like a tour of the palace? It has been some time since your last visit.”

“A tour would be lovely,” replied Nizam, blotting the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Hopeful eyes landed on Layna, and she quickly busied herself with her plate.

“Wonderful!” Hadiyah beamed. “Layna can show you the library and the greenhouse and—”

“Actually, Mama,Iwas hoping to show King Nizam around,” Soraya interjected. “Layna mentioned needing to catch up on all the treaties. I’ll bring Nizam to her office when we’re done.” Soraya smiled brightly at Nizam. “Is that all right? I swear my company is just as enjoyable!”