Page 42 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

Determination mingled with anger in her gut.

Her light pulsed inside, agitated and outraged, and the buzzing in her ears grew louder.

She smothered it, turning to Zarian. There was no question in her gaze, only sheer resolve.

He nodded. She turned back to her mother “We leave together, or not at all.”

Her mother looked like she wanted to argue but thought better of it.

She grabbed Dharaid’s unmaimed hand, and they exited into the hallway, Zarian in front, her mother and grandfather in the middle, and Layna rounding them out from behind.

Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, Dharaid and her mother struggling to match Zarian’s long, brisk strides.

“There is a door that leads out from the dining hall,” Dharaid panted. “It’s the fastest way out.”

“No,” Zarian said over his shoulder. “We’ll go out the way we—”

He cut off abruptly, stopping in his tracks, and Hadiyah ran into his back with an oomph .

He pulled a dagger from his baldric and flung it into the empty air.

A man emerged up ahead from the side hallway—right into the dagger’s path. It embedded into his chest with a muted squelch. The man stared in shock until Zarian’s throwing star sliced into his eye. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Slow clapping rang out from behind them.

Layna whirled.

Her heart dropped.

The buzzing in her ears grew ever louder.

A wall of men approached. At least twelve, maybe more. She took a step back, angling herself in front of her mother.

The man leading them, the one who had mockingly clapped, had his gaze fixed over her head on Zarian. He was smirking, but his eyes shone with loathing.

“Dhil,” Zarian growled. The name was familiar to her—he was one of the Medjai with Jamil who had found her and Zarian on the terrace on the day of the eclipse.

“ Your Majesty ,” he sneered, dropping into a bow with exaggerated flourish. “We’ve been waiting weeks for you. But don’t worry, King Dharaid has been most hospitable.”

His cold eyes darted to her grandfather, and Layna wanted to gouge them from his face. Her light flared inside her, and she held up her hands, the buzzing in her ears growing louder, drowning out her mother’s protests, and—

“There’s no need for bloodshed,” Zarian said from behind her. “What are your terms, Dhil?”

Dhil regarded him for a moment, before his glittering eyes flicked to Layna, calculating and assessing. He nodded toward her and said, “She comes with us. We let the old man and woman live. You die.”

Zarian laughed. “You’re a fool. Try again, and some of you might live long enough to return home.”

The man beside Dhil scoffed. “Awfully confident, Prince . Even you can’t fight us all. You’ve lost your common sense between the Moon Whore’s legs.”

Layna flinched, and the humming in her ears pulsed louder, desperate to be unleashed.

A low, menacing growl was the only warning before a dagger flew past her head, setting her hair aflutter, and into the offending man’s neck.

Bright blood spurted, dripping down the man’s throat, eyes wide and panicked like a frightened horse.

He clawed at his neck, struggling to breathe.

His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor.

Dhil looked unfazed, glancing down at the body with disdain. “He asked for that. There’s no need to be crude.”

“Dhil—”

“Enough. I’ve enjoyed our reunion, but let’s not waste any more time.” He whistled sharply, cold eyes drilling into Zarian.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind them, and Layna turned to see a dozen more men close in. Her light responded instinctively, flowing to her hands until they began to glow. She raised her palms, aiming them at the men—

Dhil tsk ed. “Put those away.”

She ignored him, raising her hands higher.

But then one of the men held his sword to Zarian’s neck.

Teeth clenched, she lowered her hands.

The men herded them into a large room. At every opportunity, one of the Medjai would shove Zarian, pushing him forward.

Inside, there were tall, stained-glass windows lining the walls.

The room might have been used for formal balls years ago, but now it stood empty, save for a long, wooden table on one side.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult,” Dhil said.

“Come with us. Quietly. The elders instructed us to kill you on sight. They said you’re dangerous, volatile.

A threat to the balance.” He regarded her now, appraising eyes lingering on her hands.

“But it seems you are able to control your powers. I’m sure there’s much we can learn. It won’t be pleasant, but—”

Zarian flew, twin daggers in hand. Dhil’s eyes widened with surprise.

That was Layna’s cue.

Brandishing her light, she shot fiery blasts at anyone and everyone in her vicinity. The men gave her a wide berth, and she used it to her advantage.

Get your back to a wall .

Zarian’s instructions rang out in her mind, and she walked backward, glowing palms firing flickering beams at her attackers, until her back pressed against a wall.

Her mother and grandfather stared at her, frozen in shock.

Then, Hadiyah grabbed Dharaid’s arm, and they ran behind the table for cover.

Layna’s eyes darted to Zarian—he was a shadow of metal and leather and strength.

Dhil lay dead on the floor, blood seeping from twin wounds on his neck.

Two more men quickly followed him. It seemed one of the Medjai, a tall, brawny man with long, dark hair, had changed sides and was fighting alongside Zarian.

The two men stood back against back, a raging flurry of steel and muscle, encircled by nearly ten men.

She refocused on the eight approaching her. One flung a dagger, and it buried into her shoulder. She cried out sharply, and Zarian’s head snapped toward her, but he was forced to quickly turn to dodge his opponent’s blade.

Teeth gritted against the pain, she directed more light to her palms—she was unpracticed in battle with her light, but controlling the bold, pulsing beam came easily enough.

She kept her hands moving, creating a wall of light in front of her.

With one hand, she shot a thick beam at the man closest to her, and he flew backwards, the skin on his chest sickeningly charred and melded with the leather of his baldric.

Two more daggers headed toward her, but she deflected them with sharp blasts of light.

Rage burned within her, hot and bright.

These men would kill her and Zarian.

They would keep her mother and grandfather on a leash, animals to serve their whims. They’d likely hunt down her sister and murder her in cold blood, too. They’d destroy the continent in their efforts to control it.

She’d burn them all.

Layna killed another man, shooting a powerful beam into his face. He fell, his features smoldering and unrecognizable. A pained cry escaped her as she yanked the dagger from her shoulder, quickly healing the wound.

As hot fury writhed within her, her light grew stronger along with it.

Another man approached her, footsteps hesitant.

His fear sent dark satisfaction swirling through her.

He leveled a crossbow at her, but she easily deflected it with a burst from her fingertips.

She fired a cable of light at his throat, and he clutched his neck, eyes wide in shock as his skin sizzled.

She directed the beam upwards and watched as his face melted away.

She set her eyes on the next man when a voice rang out from the other side of the hall.

“Enough!” the man yelled, panicked eyes darting around frantically.

Her heart stopped.

The man forced her mother in front of him, dagger at her throat. Hadiyah struggled fiercely in his grasp, twisting her head. A thin line of blood welled from her neck.

“Mama!” Layna shouted. Her feet moved of their own accord, darting across the stone floor toward her mother.

Zarian’s gaze snapped to her—he was fighting four men at once, his eye swollen shut and a throwing star jutting from his shoulder. His partner looked far worse, nose gushing blood, three deep gashes lining his face.

She called her light to her palms, but the man angled her mother in front of him, a living shield.

“Enough!” he screamed again, and Zarian and his partner stopped. The remaining Medjai closed in around them.

Her feet kept moving, desperate steps one after the other. She made it halfway across the room when a man barreled into her, knocking her into the ground and yanking her arms behind her back.

Layna’s grandfather rose from where he was crouched behind the table and launched himself at the man holding her mother.

The man kicked him away, struggling to keep his hold on Hadiyah who was fighting with all her might to escape.

Dharaid clawed at the man’s knees, fighting the way only a father could to protect his daughter.

Layna thrashed beneath the man pinning her, fury and panic twisting through her limbs—but he seized a handful of her hair and drove her head into the stone floor. Pain exploded behind her eyes, a brutal throb reverberating through her skull.

Zarian bared his teeth, fighting against the four men holding him back, struggling to reach Hadiyah.

The man’s face was contorted with rage. Either intentionally or accidentally, Layna didn’t know, but she watched in horror as his knife pressed into Hadiyah’s throat and cut .

Her breath left her in a sharp gasp.

He slit her mother’s throat.

The ringing in her ears grew to a crescendo.

He slit her mother’s throat.

Hadiyah’s body fell to the ground.

He slit her mother’s throat.

Light exploded around her.