Page 15 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

S he couldn’t escape the whispers that followed her every step. Even her two friends now eyed her warily, forced friendship tightening false smiles.

At night, her parents whispered of finding a new home, a new village, somewhere her eyes might shine again, where her lips might smile again.

The whispers haunted her every moment of every day, until she had nothing left beside them.

Then, one day, it changed.

“Hi,” he said, dark eyes soft and wary. “Forgive me. Please.” He held out a bouquet of wildflowers, as if they could mend the fissures he’d rent in her soul.

He’d named her witch in front of their entire village.

He’d turned her friends against her.

He’d made her parents, who had lived in this village for generations, contemplate leaving.

She had no need for his pity, nor his apology.

Back straight, she walked away.

The stubborn boy followed her, calling her name.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he panted. “Come to the solstice festival. Let me make this right.” His dark eyes were earnest as he pleaded with her.

She said nothing.

After the horrific incident in Ebrahim’s chambers, the days passed in a blur, fear and guilt taking turns battering her conscience.

Layna remained sequestered in her chambers, refusing to see anyone except Soraya.

Ebrahim stopped by at least twice a day, reassuring her through the door that he was all right, but she ignored his knocking until he eventually left.

Her mother had also tried to speak to her, but again, she refused to open the door.

Something had changed inside her.

She could feel it constantly, the power humming beneath her skin. There had been no further incident since that day in Ebrahim’s office, but she felt different. There was no denying it now—the powers the moon had bestowed upon her had returned.

Perhaps, they had never left .

The thought sent shivers skittering down her spine.

There was a loud rapping on her door.

“Layna?” Soraya’s muffled voice called. “It’s me.”

She crossed the room and opened the door. Soraya tumbled in with a tray of food balanced on one hand and several scrolls tucked under her arm. She set the tray down on a small table and plopped on the divan.

Layna’s mouth watered at the delicious aroma: hearty lamb stew paired with crusty bread and roasted potatoes. She sat on the floor and began shoveling spoonfuls into her mouth.

“Any developments?” she asked, her mouth full of potato.

“The council still believes you are unwell. For now, Lord Saldeen will continue hosting your assemblies.” Soraya placed a finger on her chin, thinking.

“Oh, they have three candidates for a new master of war. And…” She trailed off.

“They’re still grumpy about the treaty with Baysaht.

” A shrug. “Not much they can do about it now that it’s signed and Nizam is gone.

I bid him farewell on your behalf, by the way. ”

Layna sighed heavily. “How is Mama? And Ebrahim?”

“Worried about you, naturally. How long will you avoid them?”

“You didn’t see their faces, Soraya. They were terrified of me, like I was some kind of monster. What if I lose control again? Even now, I can feel it, the moon’s power thrumming beneath my skin. It’s constantly buzzing in my ears. I can’t escape it. I’m always on edge.”

Soraya was silent for a moment, regarding her sister. “I brought the scrolls you asked for. I didn’t see anything useful in them, though. Maybe Zarian can help when he’s back?”

“Maybe,” she said quietly, glancing away. Soraya joined her on the floor.

“Everyone fights occasionally, dear sister,” Soraya said. “Zarian will return soon, and you can set things right. He loves you. And he’s had time to cool off.”

Layna’s lips curled into a soft smile. “Wise, as always. Sometimes I forget which one of us is the older sister.”

“The one with the crown, of course! Along with all its burdens.” Soraya gave her a cheeky smile, and they shared a laugh.

“Tell me of Almeer. How is he?”

A shadow passed over Soraya’s bright face, and it tugged at her heart.

“I received a letter from him yesterday. He was supposed to visit in a few weeks, but he’s postponed it. His letter was cryptic, blaming his work as a diplomat, but I know it’s because of his family. The situation between Alzahra and Zephyria.” She exhaled shakily. “I don’t know what to do.”

Layna squeezed her hand. “What do you want to do?”

“Wait, I suppose.” Soraya glanced at her lap. “For things to get better. And if they don’t…” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ll climb that dune when I have to.”

Layna pulled her into a tight embrace, both sisters sniffling. When they finally pulled back, Layna said, “Let’s play ronda .”

After three rounds that saw Layna as the victor, Soraya groaned and tossed down her cards. “That’s it! Time for bed.” She rose and stretched out her limbs. Layna laughed, extending an arm in a bid for Soraya to haul her up.

“Tomorrow, I want you down at breakfast, all right? I cannot continue eating my pastries by myself. I will not stand for this moping any longer!” Her brows were drawn together in mock anger.

Layna laughed and playfully swatted her arm. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Thank you, Soraya. I don’t know what I did to be blessed with such a sister.”

“Everything,” Soraya said softly. “You did everything. Try to get some sleep. Don’t spend all night poring over those scrolls.”

The carriage rolled to a stop as it approached Alzahra’s main checkpoint. Zarian peered out of the window, assessing the line. Torches lit the towering walls, casting shadows across the sand. The carriage slowly ambled closer to the portcullis.

Once they drew closer, Zarian stepped down from the carriage.

“I’ll walk back to the palace,” he said to the driver.

“I could use the fresh air.” He adjusted his baldric, strapped with daggers and throwing stars—he had worn it for the journey back in case they encountered bandits, but it had been strangely quiet.

“Good evening, Prince Zarian!” greeted the checkpoint guard with a wide, friendly smile. “How was your time at the border?”

“Evening, Khurwen. It was … eventful. How were things while I was away? Any issues?”

“It’s been ordinary,” Khurwen responded. He lowered his voice and added, “You seem to have scared the Children of the Pure. I’ve heard nothing of them since that day with the mob.”

“Good.” A beat. “And … how is Queen Layna?”

Khurwen frowned. “Fine, I think? I’ve been stationed at the checkpoint most of the week, though.”

“Good work. Stay sharp.” He rapped his knuckles against Khurwen’s shoulder.

The guard dipped his chin and bowed as Zarian walked into the city. As he made his way through the quiet city outskirts, alone in the night, he could admit to himself that he didn’t actually want to enjoy the fresh air.

He was a coward.

How could he face Layna after his abrupt, angry departure? He’d left her alone while her powers were spiraling, her citizens revolting.

Shame raked sharp talons down his back, and he tensed with trepidation. Would she even want to see him?

Had he driven her to accept Nizam’s proposal?

The serene, dusty outskirts gave way to cobblestone streets and markets that bustled with shopkeepers wrapping up for the night, closing out straggling customers.

He had passed a fruit vendor still enthusiastically shouting out his wares to a mostly empty street when rough hands yanked him into an alley.

Within seconds, Zarian unsheathed a dagger from his baldric, poised to attack, when he felt two taps and a pinch on his neck.

The fight left his body at the familiar code, and he let the cloaked figure press him into the wall.

“What in the moons, Jamil?” he grumbled, pushing lightly at his friend. But as he focused on Jamil’s pale face, the urgency in his tight grip, the sarcastic quip died on his lips. “What happened?”

“The elders. They know .”

Zarian’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

“Layna’s powers. They’re back, yes?” Jamil said, his voice laced with urgency.

He could scarcely nod, panic gripping his heart in a vise.

“I had just returned from a mission when I overheard the order. Zarian, you need to get her out now .”

“My father gave the order?” Zarian’s mind spun at the implications.

“No. I didn’t see him. It was the head elder. Zanjeel.” Jamil tugged at Zarian’s cloak. “He’s sending twenty men, maybe more. I left as soon as I heard, but they must be close behind me. You need to go , Zarian. Now .”

“Fuck.”

His breath escaped him in pants as his mind raced against time, trying to come up with some plan, something with better odds than what they faced.

But there was none.

As if reading his thoughts, Jamil said, “There are too many men, even for us together. And they’d only send more. She’s not safe here.”

“But Soraya. And their mother. Fuck ,” he breathed.

Jamil clasped his arm. “I’ll get them out and protect them with my life. I swear it. I have more time. They’ll come for Layna first.”

One breath, one heartbeat—and everything changed.

“Meet us in Sendouk.”

Without another word, he bolted to the palace.

The flickering lantern light washed over her as she read through her fifth scroll of the night.

Last one . She rubbed her bleary eyes, folding her legs beneath her on the divan.

Then, I’ll sleep . She read it once, twice, three times before casting it aside.

Nothing useful. The hidden library, for all its knowledge, held nothing about the actual powers themselves, or how to contain them.

Which made sense, she supposed, since the Medjai seemed to murder the prophetic subjects to maintain “balance.” But was there not even one instance of a Daughter who had learned to control her light?

Layna reached for the next scroll, hoping to glean something useful.

The door slammed open, crashing against the wall, and a figure stormed in—a blur of swirling black fabric and shadow and steel.

Not a blur.

It was Zarian.

And she had never seen him so panicked.

When his frenzied eyes landed on her, potent relief passed through them. She blinked, and it was gone, replaced by burning intensity.

“Zarian, what is it?” she asked, their fight forgotten. She rose from the divan as he crossed the room in three long strides. He cradled her face, stark fear shadowing his gaze.

“Are you all right?” he asked, urgency coating his words.

“Yes, I’m—”

But he released her and began searching her chambers with chaotic speed. Layna could only watch, confused and anxious, as he left no corner unchecked. When he returned from the balcony, he grabbed her shoulders.

“The elders know about your powers. They’ve sent men to kill you. Too many for me to fight. We need to leave now .”

Layna’s mind raced at his words. The power that made its home beneath her skin began to hum, the incessant buzzing growing louder in her ears. “How?”

“I don’t know. We have to leave, Layna. Please. I won’t be able to protect you from them. I can’t fail you ag—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. His fingers pressed divots into her shoulders, his eyes pleading.

“I can’t leave Soraya and Mama,” she said softly. “They’ll be in danger.”

“Jamil will get them to safety. He swore it.” Zarian’s breath came faster now, washing over her face in an anxious breeze, his fingers digging in harder.

“When would we return?” she asked, her voice small.

Zarian swallowed again, hazel eyes shining in the light. “I don’t know. When it’s safe.”

An eternity passed in the space between heartbeats.

“We might never return.”

Layna looked into his eyes and saw his love shining back so brightly, so fiercely, it was near blinding. He’d do anything for her. This, she knew better than anything else. His beautiful, hazel eyes, so filled with terror and hope and sorrow.

Trust me , they said to her. Choose me .

So she did.

“All right. Let’s go.”