Page 56 of The Moon's Fury

His normally friendly horse was not pleased about being woken.

“Shhh, Ahmar, shh,” he coaxed, gently leading him away. When there was enough distance from his sleeping companions, he mounted the rust-colored horse and rode back the way they came.

It was difficult to tell in the darkness of night if he was looking at the right bush, but he was fairly certain he’d found thesumzeher. He warily regarded the dark, spiny bush.

Soraya had said it was poisonous—should he be wearing gloves?

He hesitated for a moment before snapping off a small section with his bare hands. She had been ready to head up here with no protection, so he supposed it was fine.

He headed back to camp.

Soraya and Hadiyah hadn’t stirred. He quietly opened Soraya’s satchel and found her journal, the worn leather soft and supple in his hands.

Did it have letters from Almeer? Her innermost thoughts?

Against his better judgment, he flipped through and was both relieved and disappointed to find only pages and pages ofpressed plants with cramped notes scribbled into the margins in her sloped handwriting.

He tucked thesumzeherbetween two empty pages.

With one last glance at Soraya, he lay down to sleep with the horses.

26

Shelosttrackoftime.

The days bled, one into the next, into the next, into the next.

Her inner flame kept her warm, and soon, she learned how to light a fire with her fingers.

She remained alone.

During the remainder of the journey to Sendouk, Layna practiced controlling her powers. As Najoom galloped across the rocky terrain, she closed her eyes and focused on the ever-present light pulsing within her. At first, it felt like one thick, thrumming cable that branched through her limbs, but slowly,she was able to differentiate the rhythms that flowed through her.

There were three unique, intertwining cables; one was gentle and calm, like a small, flowing stream. When she reached for this power, a soothing aura passed through her, and her hands began to glow. This was the light that healed Zarian.

Another type of light coiled around the first, pulsing brighter and hotter. When she called to this one, it felt as if every hair on her body stood on end. It was fast and bold and powerful. When she focused on that cable, her fingertips began to crackle.

The last coil of light burned the hottest. It raged around the other two cables, writhing beneath her skin, desperate to be freed, its buzzing near deafening.

Layna didn’t reach for this one.

While they were seated on the ground during a break, this coiling tendril of fury snapped against her mind when Zarian used his dagger to cut open his palm and insisted she heal it. She scowled at him, but to her surprise, the power came easily this time. The serene, lapping light heeded her command and healed his wound.

And then he cut himself again. And again. And two more times after that until tell-tale fatigue weighed down her limbs.

He hoisted her onto Najoom as if she weighed nothing, then mounted behind her and pulled her flush against him. He dragged his lips across her neck, laving at her pulse until a breathy moan escaped her.

“You did so well,” he whispered in her ear, and goosebumps erupted across her flesh. “We’ll practice again tomorrow.”

Her answering glare burned hotter than the light inside her.

Soon, the exhaustion from using her power pressed down on her eyelids, and she dozed off against his muscled chest.

Layna was unsure how long she slept, but when she awoke, the landscape had morphed—tan, rocky earth had given way to green grass and tall, leafy trees. When they passed an apple orchard, she gasped at the bright red fruit.

Apples rarely made their way to Alzahra.

To her surprise, Zarian tugged on the reins until Najoom stopped. They dismounted, and she picked the shiniest apples she could find, eating three of them, one after the other, while Zarian watched, his lips quirked in a soft smile.