Page 86 of The Moon's Fury

Layna’s heart raced as the walls of Shahbaad Palace came into view. It was magnificent, with large, emerald domes embossed with intricate calligraphy, though the colors seemed faded. Arched doorways led to the spacious courtyard, weeds reaching for the sky between flagstones. She imagined her mother as a little girl, splashing in the large fountain as she and Soraya had done as children in their own courtyard. A wistful smile curled her lips, her heart aching to be reunited with them.

Soon.

Zarian had scoped the palace earlier and found a barricaded side door.

He knelt beside her behind a large copse of trees where they’d secured Najoom. The crease between his brows had taken permanent residence. He was dressed in his chainmail-lined baldric, every pocket concealing a weapon. She rubbed her thumb over the crease, smoothing it gently. He met her gaze and sighed, his features softening.

“There are barely any guards. Getting to the door and back was too easy.” The stubborn crease returned. “We’re walking into a trap.”

“Do you think they’re still alive?” she asked quietly. He didn’t respond, staring again at the palace, gears turning in his sharp mind.

“Is there any chance I can convince you to wait here?”

“None.”

“Then, stick to the plan.” He didn’t miss a beat, clearly expecting her answer. “We enter through the side door, find Soraya and your mother, and we get out.” She nodded and began to rise, but he grabbed her hand and tugged her back down. “Layna, this can’t be like Sendouk. The Medjai are not petty criminals in an alley. Youneedto listen to me.” She nodded again, slower this time. His face was stark, his mouth a tight, grim line. “If we’re attacked, get your back to a wall and use your light. Don’t try to fight hand-to-hand. And if I say run, youwillrun.” Her brow furrowed, anger flickering at the command, but he continued.

“Promise me you’ll leave me behind and never look back. Go east to Baysaht. There’s another library under his palace. Keep practicing your light.” He bared his teeth, as if it pained him to utter his next words. “I know he’ll give you the rest of his army. Reclaim your kingdom. Reclaim your kingdom andlive. For me. Promise me, Layna, you’ll live and be happy.”

Furious, she opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. A muscle feathered in his cheek, but he didn’t press her.

Instead, Zarian claimed her lips, stealing the air from her lungs in a fierce kiss. He cradled her face with one hand, fingers digging into her cheek and chin. His other hand found her lowerback, pressing her smaller frame against his massive one, as if he wanted to hide her away within himself. His teeth knocked against hers as his tongue pushed past her lips, wrestling and overpowering hers until she had no choice but to let him take what he wanted.

It was a deep, intimate kiss, one that would have stoked the flames of her desire had it not tasted of fear and desperation.

No, it tasted too much like farewell.

Instead of arousal, it fanned the flames of her anger. How dare he say goodbye to her? How dare he think she’d ever be content in the arms of another man? Not now, not when her very soul was irreversibly tangled with his.

When he finally released her, she wanted to rage at him, to beat her fists against his chest. She wanted to scream he wasn’t allowed to eventhinkabout dying and leaving her alone in this wretched world.

But he had already stood, his feet carrying him to the palace.

She followed, and they walked together, shadows in the night. They easily avoided the handful of guards and crept to the side entrance. Zarian pried it open, scanning inside before entering, Layna close behind him.

She had never visited her grandfather’s castle, but Zarian had been here years ago. It was late, and the corridors were mostly deserted save for a handful of unfortunate souls that Zarian incapacitated.

Her grandfather’s office was empty.

Their next stop was his bedroom. Again, there were only a handful of servants and no guards. The door was unlocked.

A loud, familiar gasp.

It was her mother.

“Layna!” Hadiyah’s wide eyes took her in, face pale and panicked. Then her gaze slid to Zarian and morphed into a glare. “Why did you bring her here?” she hissed.

Her mother had lost weight since Layna last saw her—the hollows of her cheeks were deeper, and her collarbones protruded starkly. Next to her sat Dharaid. Layna had only met him once as a child when he’d visited Alzahra. His face was deeply lined, his white beard cut short. He had aged significantly from what she remembered in her blurry, faded memory. He rose from the sofa, hands clasped tightly.

“Mama,” she whispered, crossing the room and pulling her into an embrace. Her mother melted into it. “Where is Soraya?”

Her mother shook her head. “She left with the other one. To find you. Have you seen her?” When Layna shook her head, she grabbed her shoulders, meeting her eyes in a frantic gaze. “It’s not safe here. You must go. We are being watched.” She glanced at Zarian. “Take her and leave.”