Page 12 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

L ayna stood on her balcony, gazing over Alzahra City as the sun set over the cobblestone streets.

A week had passed since Zarian left—without a word, without even a goodbye.

But the pain in his eyes, carved by her harsh words, lingered in her mind like a fresh wound.

She had been a fool to let anger rule her.

Her temper was merciless, but only when it came to him.

Predictably, her mother had taken every opportunity to thrust Nizam into her path.

Hadiyah insisted he join them for every meal, and if Layna attempted to dine in her chambers, Hadiyah would send servant after servant until she relented.

When Layna and Soraya took walks in the gardens, they somehow always ran into Hadiyah and Nizam amongst the blooming rose bushes.

Nizam, to his credit, seemed just as uncomfortable as Layna during these encounters.

It was clear this was her mother’s doing, and he was an unwilling participant.

Her mother’s meddling actions irritated her so much that she could often feel her fingers tingling.

She focused on steadying her breathing—so far, it was working.

With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the balcony. Zarian would return in another week.

She would make things right.

Grabbing a lantern, she headed toward the library. Pushing open the heavy door, her eyes scanned the large room—empty. Luckily, the scribes usually retired by the late afternoon. She crossed the vast room and hefted the trap door.

Layna descended the stairs, only to realize at the bottom that she had forgotten to bring extra candles. She nearly turned back before her eyes landed on a large candelabra on one of the tables. It would suffice—Ebrahim or Soraya must have left it.

Settling into an uncomfortable chair with a deep sigh, Layna went to work in the hidden library.

She spent hours poring over texts, reading and rereading, trying to find something—anything—that would shed light on her erratic powers.

They surfaced in moments of strong emotion.

That much was clear. But how could she control them?

Or even better, banish them completely?

One heavy tome, its pages brittle, contained Medjai lore. Brows furrowed, she read through the weathered, sometimes illegible, pages. Before her, there had been the infamous Sun Slayer, a real person, not the monstrous tale parents told children.

And before her, another moon daughter. It seemed the source of power alternated between the sun and moon from one prophecy to the next.

She scoured through other texts until she came across a book so ancient, the title had faded away. It was filled with children’s qissas . Her brows furrowed as she read through them, one of the stories catching her eye.

Long ago, before you or I, before cities had names and maps were drawn, before the Mountains erupted across the land, before the waters rose and carved the sea, there were Shamsa and Qamla, the sun and moon goddesses.

They were sisters, the closest of kin, and they loved one another more than anything.

Shamsa, guardian of day, spread her light over the land from her home in the sky. Crops flourished, and the people loved her, built temples in her honor, worshipped her.

Qamla, mistress of night, radiated her glow through the darkness. She pulled the tides, and her soft light illuminated the shadows, and the people loved her, built temples in her honor, worshipped her.

The sisters shared their power, each pushing and pulling from the other, existing in blessed, contented balance.

One day, from her home in the sky, Shamsa spotted a man—the most handsome creature she’d ever laid her bright eyes on.

Her heart was enraptured. She spent her days watching him, shining more nurturing sunlight on his crops than anyone else’s.

His crops grew and flourished, and he sold them and became a rich man. He was happy, and so, too, was Shamsa.

One night, Qamla laid her starlit eyes on the same man.

The sisters shared an essence, and he, too, called to her heart like he did her sister’s.

She shone her radiant light on his home, brightening it in the darkness more than anyone else’s.

She summoned stars to his doorstep, and he sold them and became richer still. He was happy, and so, too, was Qamla.

Shamsa and Qamla both watched as their beloved, now a wealthy man, drew interested eyes from all the village’s daughters. They vied for his hand, some with beauty, some with wit, and some with wealth of their own.

Jealousy cleaved at the sisters’ hearts, for what they gave to him, they would not share with another.

The man chose a wife from all the women, and they were wed.

Shamsa did not shine on their wedding day, and the people murmured of omens and ill luck.

Qamla hid herself on their wedding night, and again, the people whispered in their homes.

Their beloved and his young, new wife were ostracized and excluded.

But one of the sisters was still not appeased.

Heartbreak had thieved her senses, and so, Shamsa imbued her power into a living, mortal girl.

A Daughter.

Shamsa channeled her essence, welding a piece of herself inside the vessel. In her new mortal form, the goddess went to win the affections of her love.

But, alas, her scheme did not work.

It was his young wife who answered the door. Upon seeing her face, Shamsa, through the Daughter, was overcome with uncontrollable rage. Her eyes flashed white, and light shot forth from her palms, killing the innocent woman.

The man returned home, in time to witness his wife’s death. He rounded on the Daughter, poised to kill her, until she revealed herself as the goddess. She proclaimed her endless, undying love, begging him to accept her in this new, mortal form.

He turned away.

Shamsa left the mortal girl’s body and returned to the heavens, where her furious sister waited, depleted of their shared power.

The sisters raged and fought. The sky turned pitch-black for days as the goddesses contended with one another.

The man, enraged by his wife’s death, prayed for—

The rest of the pages had been torn out. Layna rubbed her tired eyes, the story of the twin goddesses weighing heavily on her.

Was there any truth to this tale? It seemed a story meant to entertain children, full of fantasy and wonder—but could she dismiss anything as fanciful now, given what was happening to her?

A sudden pain gripped her chest, sharp and aching. Oh, how she wished she could speak to Baba—hear his thoughts, his calm, steady insight. It’s a children’s qissa , she could almost hear her father say. But even the wildest tales are rooted in truth.

With a sigh, she rose to leave. The hidden library, for all its secrets and knowledge, hadn’t yielded anything useful about controlling her powers.

Puffing out the candles, she returned to her chambers.

She’d try again tomorrow.

The next day crawled by slowly. Layna feigned a headache and took her meals in her chambers to avoid her mother’s machinations with Nizam. In the evening, there was a sharp rap on her door.

“You may enter,” Layna called. The door opened, and a servant stepped inside.

She bowed deeply and said, “Your Majesty, Lord Ebrahim requests your presence.”

Layna frowned, following the servant to Ebrahim’s private office.

Her heart sank.

Sitting beside Ebrahim was her mother.

Hadiyah pursed her lips. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” she bit out as she crossed the room and sat opposite them.

Her patience with her mother was perilously low.

Layna shot an incredulous glance at Ebrahim, hoping to convey her annoyance.

He had consistently taken her mother’s side in this entire ordeal.

Ebrahim only gave her a sad, weak smile.

Hadiyah sighed, steepling her hands below her chin. “Nizam leaves tomorrow,” she finally said. “The trade treaty was signed today.”

“I am aware,” Layna retorted. “I signed it.”

Hadiyah clenched her jaw. “Layna. You are making a mistake. Nizam is a good man. And he cares for you deeply. I have no doubt he will put your happiness above everything else. He already has! He is what is best for you.”

“For me? Or for Alzahra?” she snapped.

“For both you and Alzahra. Is that not what you’ve wanted your entire life? An alliance that benefited your heart and your kingdom?”

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, Mama,” she said woodenly. “I don’t like this at all.”

Her mother barked a cold laugh, ire blazing behind her eyes. “What happened to me ? My husband was murdered! Now I have to shoulder the burden of safeguarding his legacy, his children, his kingdom ! Instead of defending Alzahra from its enemies, I am forced to protect it from its Queen !”

Layna gaped at her mother, the words cutting deep. Her fingertips began to tingle, and she took deep breaths, filling her lungs.

“Hadiyah—” Ebrahim started, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She angrily shrugged it off. “No, Ebrahim! It’s time she hears this.

” Hadiyah turned back to her. “How can you be so selfish, Layna? What happened to my steadfast daughter—the one who loved her kingdom, the one who embraced her duty? You’re willing to cast it all aside for him ? That—that mercenary!”

“Don’t call him that,” Layna bit out. Seething flames licked up her spine until a hazy smoke clouded her senses.

Hadiyah laughed mockingly. “That’s exactly what he is. Do you think me a fool? I saw the Medjai elders and their exhaustive trials. They feared you, Layna. And his insistence on keeping your powers a secret only confirmed my suspicions. How can you care for him knowing he came here to kill you?”

Angry white spots began to blot out Layna’s vision.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

Her heart thundered in her chest, threatening to escape.

She gripped the armrests with sweaty hands until her knuckles turned white.

Vaguely, she heard the door open, but her senses were muffled through the fog of her rising anger.

She looked at Ebrahim, hoping for his intervention, but his concerned gaze was fixed on something behind her.

“It’s true,” Hadiyah pressed. “And I had hoped with him gone, you’d come around and see reason. But I was wrong.”

A shrill ringing began to blare in Layna’s ears.

“You … you sent him away?” she breathed, her blurry gaze fixing on her mother.

“Of course I did. Do you think that stubborn man would have left on his own? He’s a viper that slithered into my home and coiled around my daughter. He’s poisoned your mind.”

Layna’s breath left her in rapid pants.

“You sent him away.”

She shakily rose to her feet.

“ You sent him away.”

For the first time since the conversation started, Ebrahim met her gaze. His eyes immediately widened.

“Layna—Layna, sit back down. Your eyes are glowing.”

Hadiyah and Ebrahim quickly rounded the table, approaching her with outstretched arms, as if trying to calm a frightened animal.

She recoiled from them, clutching her head in her hands. The shrill ringing had increased in volume, pulsing loudly in her ears until she wanted to bury her head in sand to escape it.

“Deep breaths, Layna,” Ebrahim reminded, his calm voice clashing with the storm raging in her head. He angled himself between her and Hadiyah. “Take deep breaths, please . Your eyes are completely white. You must calm down.”

“YOU SENT HIM AWAY!”

Layna didn’t hear what came out of his mouth next because a powerful tendril of energy coiled in her belly and raced through her limbs, a burning, crackling, furious beam.

Instinctively, she stretched out her arms.

A bright streak of light shot from her palms—

—straight into Ebrahim’s chest.

He flew backwards into Hadiyah, and both of them tumbled to the ground. Hadiyah screamed, along with someone else behind her. A red blur darted to the ground and clutched Ebrahim’s arm, trying to help him sit.

Layna blinked rapidly, her eyes slowly focusing.

It was Burhani, kneeling on the floor. She must have entered when the door opened. Burhani pulled Ebrahim’s head into her lap.

“Baba,” Burhani cried, tears streaming down her face. “Are you all right? Open your eyes!”

Layna watched, frozen, as Hadiyah checked his neck for a pulse.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think .

What had she done?

After a long, drawn-out moment, Hadiyah’s shoulders sagged with relief.

Ebrahim groaned, twisting his head from side to side. The front of his tunic was singed, black soot bursting outwards from the central shot, but luckily, he appeared otherwise unharmed.

He slowly opened his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Layna rasped. “I don’t—I didn’t mean—” She took a step forward and—

“Stay back,” Burhani spat, pinning her with a burning glare, so heated that Layna half expected to incinerate.

“I—”

“Don’t come any closer!” Burhani shouted. She positioned herself in front of Ebrahim and Hadiyah.

Layna glanced at every face and saw only fear.

She turned and fled.