Page 40 of The Moon's Fury

“What happened with the merchant?” she asked, reaching into the sack of dates. His lips pressed into a hard line. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves.”

“We shouldn’t,” Zarian agreed. “If I were a better man, maybe I could control my temper. But I can’t. Especially not when it comes to you.” Her gaze softened, and she covered his hand with her own.

There was so much he wanted to say to her, apologies desperate to be voiced after their fight.

Moons, she had to flee her home in the night because of him.

Later.

There would be time later. Right now, he needed to get her to safety.

Mounting Najoom, they rode off into the desert.

18

Thesunwasjustbeginning to set when the outskirts of Janta came into view. The neighboring kingdom was known for its perfumes, and the scent of warm frankincense and myrrh mingled with oud’s sweet musk greeted them as they entered the capital city.

Layna secured herniqab, and Zarian drew up his scarf. On edge, his eyes scoured every face, every shadowy corner as Najoom trotted through the city, clay walls rising up around them.

The aroma of street food wafted from nearly every corner, battling for dominance against the scent of perfumes that ruled the open air. They neared a cart where a large rack of lamb spun over an open flame. Zarian’s mouth watered, and he purchased three portions before continuing on.

Their destination was a modest traveler’s inn with a small, attached stable. They dismounted, gathering their bags, leaving Najoom with a lanky stablehand who warily eyed the large stallion.

“He’s served me well,” Zarian said. “Take good care of him. As much water and food as he wants.”

“Yes,sahib,” the stablehand said, wide eyes fixed on the stallion. Zarian clasped Layna’s hand, and they headed inside. The front door opened to a narrow foyer that led into a cramped, dimly lit room. A small staircase curved up to the second story, and toward the back of the room, a man sat reading a book behind a wooden desk.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice them until they crossed the room and Zarian quietly said, “Hello, friend.” The man glanced up and did a double take, mouth dropping open. His book landed on the ground with a thud as he shot to his feet.

“Brother!” the man exclaimed. He grabbed Zarian’s hand and kissed his knuckles before pressing them against his forehead. The man’s gaze slid to Layna for a heartbeat, and then he lowered his eyes in respect. He held his hand over his heart and bowed in greeting.

Turning back to Zarian, he asked, “What brings you to Janta, brother? I thought I’d never lay eyes on you again.”

Zarian felt his lips curling into a smile. “It’s good to see you, Hamzh. We need lodging for a few days. I could use some clothing.” He cleared his scratchy throat. “And water, please.”

Hamzh nodded with his entire body. “Of course. Stay as long as you like.” Grabbing a key from a drawer, he gestured for them to follow. He led them up the stairs, where he entered the first room and quickly returned with a stack of clothes. They continued down the narrow corridor to the last room. Hamzh handed him the key.

“There is plenty of water inside, and I’ll have more brought up shortly. If you need anything,anything, do not hesitate to ask.” He clasped Zarian’s hand again and pressed it to his forehead, eyes closed tightly in reverence. With a small bow to Layna, he disappeared down the hall.

Layna turned to him, a question marked between her brows. He shrugged one shoulder. “Hamzh owes me a favor.”

He unlocked the door to reveal a modest room. There was a bed pushed against the wall, windows framing it on either side. Opposite the bed was a quaint kitchen with a small dining area.

Dropping their bags on the ground, he did a cursory check of the room while Layna plated their food. She poured him a tall glass of water that he downed in seconds, then another that he gulped as well.

They sat and ate quietly, until the gnawing hunger in his belly was sated. Layna’s worried eyes repeatedly traced his face.

Moons, he felt like camel dung. Probably looked like it, too.

“Sleep,” she said. He could tell by the crease between her brows that she had more to say. “We can talk after.”

Fatigue weighed heavily on him. “I’ll wash up quickly and sleep on the couch.”