Page 10 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

T he day had passed in a blur of red after Nizam dared stop by the training grounds. Zarian stalked back to his chambers, irritation simmering beneath his skin. He had pitied the guard next in line to spar with him after the asshole left, tail tucked between his legs.

Pompous, cowardly bastard .

He turned down a long stretch of hallway that led to his quarters and nearly collided with Soraya. She stood in the center of the corridor, arms crossed, forehead pinched tightly.

Zarian resisted the urge to retreat.

He’d never bowed from any battle, no enemy too powerful, no blade too sharp.

He had felled fierce warriors and slain vicious beasts.

He was shadow, elusive and fleeting.

He was night, dark and unforgiving.

But, moons help him , these two sisters bent him to their will.

He plastered a smile on his face. “Soraya. Were you waiting long?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. You know what you did.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “I’ll admit it was not my best moment.”

Her mouth opened, undoubtedly ready to lecture him, but she seemed to think better of it. Dark eyes scanned his face, and her expression softened. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is hard on you. But Nizam will be here for a few days yet. Try to be civil. For Layna’s sake.”

He drew a deep breath, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue.

She wasn’t the target of his anger.

“I’ll do my best.”

Soraya smiled—he was forgiven, it seemed. She patted his shoulder, walking past him. “By the way, Mama is looking for Layna,” she called over her shoulder.

His brows furrowed. He was about to ask what she meant, but Soraya had already disappeared around the corner.

Shaking his head, he continued to his chambers, pushing open the door. He stopped in his tracks.

Layna was waiting for him.

She was a vision in her flowing burgundy abaya, waterfalls of silk cascading over navy sofa cushions. Dark, loose waves framed her face in a way that made his fingers itch to tangle in them, to pull her close and kiss her senseless—until she forgot her kingdom, her duties, her title.

Until all she knew was him .

Her smile was soft, tentative. It eased the weight on his chest, just enough so that he took his first full breath of air since the afternoon.

“Hi,” she murmured. His eyes fell shut at the sound of her throaty voice.

Moons, she’d be the death of him.

Soraya’s parting words flashed through his mind. “Your mother is looking for you.” He braced himself against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, as if that would protect him from her wiles.

“I know.” She patted the seat beside her. “You don’t visit me anymore, so I thought I would come see you.” Her lips curved downward into a soft pout, stirring in him the irresistible urge to grant her every wish.

A moment’s hesitation—then, he unstrapped his sword, setting it on a small table before joining her on the sofa.

He waited for her to speak, but she remained silent, seemingly content with just being near him, tracing idle patterns on his thigh. When he couldn’t bear the silence any longer, he asked, “How was your private meeting with Nizam?”

Her hand stilled, and she sighed.

“It was—heartbreaking. I feel sad for him.”

He bristled. “Why?” It came out sharper than he intended.

Layna recounted her long talk with Nizam. She told him of the circumstances that led to his silence, his struggles as a new king, his decision to send half his army to aid Alzahra. And his reason for coming now.

If Zarian were a better man, he might have pitied Nizam.

But he wasn’t.

“What did you say?” he asked. Logically, he knew the answer. She must have refused Nizam; otherwise, she wouldn’t be sitting with him alone in his chambers, nestled against his side, head resting against his chest.

But his foolish, anxious, hopeless heart yearned to hear the words fall from her lips, desperately needing the assurance that she had chosen him.

“I said no.”

Zarian released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “What will you tell the council? Your mother?”

His heart pounded against his ribs, just as desperate for her answer as he was. Did she even realize the hold she had on him? That his very existence rested in her hands?

“I’ll tell them I won’t marry him.”

Another relieved breath escaped him.

“That I want to marry you .”

His heart stopped.

I want to marry you.

“And that Alzahra will receive more than enough aid through the treaties. We don’t need a political alliance.”

She’d just spoken his deepest wish aloud, and his mind couldn’t comprehend it.

A disbelieving, hopeful wisp of joy curled around his heart.

He lost the ability to form a coherent sentence.

He didn’t need to, because she pressed her lips to his in a sweet, lingering kiss. Zarian cradled her face and pressed their foreheads together. He kept his eyes closed, fearing if he opened them, she’d vanish and this would all be a fleeting, desperate dream.

But he opened his eyes, and there she was, smiling at him with adoration, as if he were something precious.

As if he were worthy. Deserving.

She pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “I should find Mama before she finds me here. Skip the council meeting tomorrow. It will be tense.”