Page 11 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

I t was hot.

Burning, searing, so warm she thought she might combust. She tossed and turned on her thin, feather-stuffed mattress, her linen nightgown clinging to her sweaty skin.

She clenched her eyes tighter, wiping her clammy brow, and attempted to find sleep once more.

Flickering lights danced behind closed lids, shaking her senses. She opened them and gasped, her boiling blood frosting in her veins.

Her curtains were on fire.

The hot flames waved at her, as if to say, Hello, friend .

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

A door slammed open, a tight grip on her arm.

Her father yanked her from the room. They ran outside, seeking shelter under the moonlit sky. Their neighbors came in droves, men and boys armed with buckets of water.

They extinguished the fire.

Her cottage would see another day.

But would she?

Narrow shoulders shaking beneath her mother’s arm, she watched as her father thanked their community.

Through the crowd, hateful, dark eyes found her, eyes that had once looked at her with warmth.

She shrank back from their scathing glare.

He leveled an accusing finger, honeyed hair crowning his head in the moonlight.

“Saahira,” he snarled.

Witch.

“Good morning, esteemed council members,” Layna greeted.

Her mother and Lord Ebrahim, along with Lady Mirah, master of coin, and Lord Saldeen, master of internal affairs, were assembled at the round table.

They had yet to appoint a new master of war—traitorous Lord Varin was still rotting in the dungeon.

“I have finished reviewing the peace treaties. All is in order, and Alzahra will receive abundant resources and gold. And while”—her voice wavered—“it can never replace what was stolen, it will help us rebuild.”

Murmurs of assent echoed throughout the room.

Layna took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“I wanted to discuss another important topic—King Nizam’s proposal.”

Hadiyah pursed her lips. Surprisingly, her mother had taken the news well last night. She wasn’t pleased, but she had agreed to support Layna before the council.

“As you know, King Nizam seeks an alliance with Alzahra through marriage. I have thought long and hard on this. I do not make this decision lightly.”

She straightened her spine, drawing in a slow, steady breath.

“I will not marry him.”

The council members were silent for several long moments.

Then Lady Mirah and Lord Saldeen began to speak at once.

“Queen Layna, I must insist—”

“This is absurd, how can—”

“—our diplomatic relations—”

“What of the aid he—”

Layna raised a hand and silenced them. “As I said, I have thought long and hard. King Nizam and I agreed to negotiate a treaty, one that will allot a portion of Alzahra’s reparations to Baysaht. It will appease his council enough that our kingdoms can maintain diplomatic ties.”

Lord Saldeen frowned. “Why would we agree to send aid, that we need , might I add, if we could strengthen our position through marriage?”

Layna pulled her shoulders back. “Because I do not wish to marry him.”

Ebrahim and Hadiyah shared a glance.

Lady Mirah sighed. “Prin—apologies, Queen Layna, I urge you to reconsider. We understand your heart might lie … elsewhere, but Alzahra must come first. The rumors about you are vicious . The aid we’ve received from other kingdoms, much of it was born from fear of the Moon Queen.

An alliance with a strong kingdom would silence the dissenters, especially those within our own borders!

” Lady Mirah was referencing the Children of the Pure, the faction that had organized a mob outside the city checkpoint.

The faction that had declared her unstable and dangerous.

A dull, pulsing pain began to throb behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly, attempting to focus on Lady Mirah’s words.

“—think of your kingdom.”

Layna’s heart began to race, faster and harder, as if it were trying to outrun their disagreement. She gripped the table with sweaty palms. The room spun round and round.

What was happening to her?

“Layna? Are you all right?” Ebrahim asked.

No, I’m not all right , she wanted to say, but her mouth felt stuffed with sand. Her breakfast churned furiously within her stomach, and she took deep, gasping breaths, trying to calm her thundering heart.

“Layna?” Her mother’s voice sounded distant, the sound muffled amidst the rushing of blood in her ears.

A deep, red sky. The moon shadowing the sun.

Zarian! Please, Zarian!

Blood trickled from his mouth, flowing down his neck .

She gasped as her vision cleared, horror clouding her senses along with confusion. A strange sense of déjà vu engulfed her.

Layna focused on the concerned, wary faces of the council. Ebrahim had risen at some point and poured a glass of water for her.

“Apologies,” she rasped between sips. “Perhaps my breakfast did not agree with me.” She cleared her throat, refocusing on the council members. “As I said, I do not wish to marry Nizam. Instead, I will—”

“Wait for more proposals,” her mother interjected. “There are other wealthy kingdoms who wish to ally themselves with Alzahra. Perhaps, Maridunia or Minhypas.”

Layna furrowed her brow. “Mama, I—”

“My dear daughter, meet us halfway, yes?” her mother reasoned.

“Fine, you do not wish to marry Nizam. We can live with that. But at least let Alzahra maintain some semblance of strength. It will give us time to rebuild. There’s no need to rush into announcements—particularly with a kingdom that lacks resources. ”

Layna was quiet for a heartbeat, pondering her mother’s words. Her head still felt as if wool had been shoved into her ears. “All right. I suppose we can wait a while longer.”

“Wonderful.” Her mother flashed a rare, warm smile. She called a servant from the hallway. “Escort Queen Layna to her chambers. She must still be weary from her journey to Adrik.” Hadiyah turned. “Ebrahim, remain a moment.”

The thud of his wooden sword rang out across the training grounds. The midday sun blazed down, sweat dripping into his eyes. Zarian had dismissed the guards earlier to spare them from the unusually hot day, even for the desert climate, but he had remained.

A glutton for punishment in every way, it seemed.

He’d pored over the peace treaty with Valtisaan countless times, reading and rereading until the ink blurred and the words lost shape.

Tamzin had pledged laborers and architects, shipments of lumber and stone.

But nowhere did the treaty mention it —the rare, unknown element, guarded through bloodshed, the very thing that had propelled Valtisaan decades ahead of the rest of the continent.

Perhaps it was for the best.

Zarian had witnessed firsthand the kind of greed such power stirred in men. It was better Alzahra remained untouched by it.

And then there was Kharteen. His friend—his brother —needed his help. But that meant bloodying his own hands once more … and for Valtisaan, no less. The thought was not as easily stomached as it had been in the past.

Back then, he’d been alone. Just a weapon in the hands of the Medjai. No purpose beyond the next command, the next kill. He had accepted that—worn it like armor.

But things were different now.

His heart had chosen a different path.

He had chosen Layna.

And she was finally, finally ready to choose him, too.

He slashed at the practice dummy repeatedly until his mind held no thoughts besides his next strike.

Neck.

Shoulder.

Heart.

He kept a furious pace until the muscles in his back and arms cried out for rest.

By the time he stopped, his tunic was completely drenched, as if someone had just doused him with water. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, a servant approached the gate.

“Prince Zarian,” the servant greeted, a short, stocky man. “Lord Ebrahim requests your presence.” The man’s eyes trailed over his sweaty form. His nostrils flared. “Though I might suggest freshening up first.”

Thirty minutes later, he headed to Ebrahim’s office, freshly showered and changed. He rapped sharply on the large, ornate door. Ebrahim’s muffled voice bid him to enter.

But Ebrahim wasn’t alone.

Sitting beside him was Hadiyah.

She smiled as he cautiously approached the desk. His body tensed instinctively, readying for battle.

“Ah, Zarian! Please sit.” She gestured to the lone chair across the table. He lowered himself into the seat, wary eyes darting between them.

“Zarian, we must ask for your help. We’ve received reports of unrest amongst our soldiers at the eastern border.

The men are weary and wish to return home.

Some are blatantly disobeying orders. I want you to smooth things over.

Help rally the men. You are a natural leader, and it would only be for two weeks. ” Her gaze was expectant.

Zarian flicked his gaze to Ebrahim, who was staring at his lap. “I can’t leave Layna here unguarded. Not with her powers manifesting. Not with the unrest within the city.”

Hadiyah pursed her lips. “You can assign additional guards to her until you return. Ebrahim and I are here. We’ll keep her out of the spotlight. She was unwell at the council meeting today—she’ll be resting, anyhow.”

“What happened? Is she all right?” Zarian asked, concern blooming in his chest.

“Yes, just a minor headache. We cut the council meeting short. Nothing to worry about.”

“Did Layna make an … announcement to the council today?” he asked.

Ebrahim had yet to speak.

“She did,” Hadiyah said simply. A long, deep sigh escaped her. “Zarian, I’ll be frank with you. I know you hold my daughter in high regard. I know you’d do anything to protect her. Show me you will protect Alzahra as well.”

Zarian’s eyes darted again to Ebrahim’s, but the older man would not meet his gaze. “Let me talk to Layna first,” he finally said.

Hadiyah pressed her lips into a grim line, as if swallowing a scathing remark. With a curt nod, she dismissed him.

Zarian knelt, chest bared and vulnerable.

He gasped for air, a desperate, futile struggle for life.

He swayed, struggling to stand, only to collapse with a loud thud she felt in her bones.

Blood seeped from his mouth, down over his neck, staining his lips a gruesome red. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

Layna awoke with a gasp, heart thundering in her chest. How long had she slept? The remnants of the horrifying dream were shadowy wisps in her mind, the edges already blurring. At least her headache was gone.

She headed to the washroom to splash water over her face. Upon emerging, her eyes widened as they landed on Zarian waiting for her on the divan.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting beside him. “Not that I mind.”

“Your mother mentioned you were unwell. What happened?” He gripped her chin and tilted her face toward the light, eyes shadowed with concern.

“I’m fine. I had a headache and some dizziness, but I feel better after sleeping.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, scooting closer.

Before she could deepen the kiss, Zarian pulled back and asked, “Did you have a chance to tell the council about us?”

She worried her lip between her teeth. “Not exactly. I—I told them I won’t marry Nizam. But my mother and the council members advised we hold off on a formal alliance until Alzahra has had more time to rebuild. Until the rumors die down.”

Zarian was silent for three painfully long heartbeats. He rose slowly, raking a violent hand through his unruly hair.

With his back to her, he said, “They want to bide time for other proposals.”

“Yes, but I won’t entertain—”

“Last night you said you’d marry me .” His words were sharp, shoulders stiff.

“I know,” she said softly, placatingly. “But their request was reasonable. I thought they would pressure me to marry Nizam, but they accepted that I won’t. They just asked me to wait.”

“Reasonable?” he scoffed. Zarian spun around, anger burning in his eyes. “Do you think it’s reasonable for me to wait and watch while they present you as an offering to other kingdoms?”

Layna bristled, but she tried to tamp down on her irritation. “It won’t be forever. Just until—”

“Until Alzahra is stronger ,” he interrupted. “So they’ve said.” He began pacing, an angry, caged lion. “What they actually mean is wait until they can convince you to marry into a wealthy kingdom. And in the meantime, I’ll have to watch you be courted. And your mother, she—”

“You’re being unreasonable.” The embers of her own temper flickered to life. Her blood crackled angrily in her veins, and she could feel a tingling in her fingertips. “It’s the best I could do. You said you wouldn’t make my choice difficult.”

“I thought you’d actually make a choice!

” he snapped, his voice rising steadily.

“Not keep me dangling in perpetual uncertainty!” She rose to face him, arms crossed.

“Layna, I have given up everything for you. I left it behind and haven’t looked back once.

You told me that—on the day of the eclipse—you chose me.

You were ready to leave Alzahra with me !

” His eyes blazed, fists clenched at his sides.

“That was before I knew my father was dead! Things are different now. What do you think will happen to my mother if I abandon my crown? To Soraya?”

“I’m not asking you to leave—”

“And you may have left your kingdom, but you weren’t even happy there! You had nothing worth staying for. You hate your father and your brother is dead!”

Zarian recoiled, staring at her in shock. His shoulders dropped as his anger deflated, and raw hurt swirled in his eyes.

“Zarian, I—”

The door flung open, and Soraya barged in. She was poised to speak, but her gaze landed on Zarian’s stricken face, then flicked to Layna. “Um, I should have knocked. I’ll just come back lat—”

“It’s all right, Soraya,” Zarian said gruffly. He didn’t look at Layna as he stalked to the door. “I just came to tell the Queen I’ll be gone for a while. I’m needed at the border.”

“The border? Why—” started Layna.

The door slammed closed with so much force that both sisters jumped.