Page 50 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

T hey’d been traveling for weeks, sleeping under the open stars, and walking endlessly during the day.

Her feet ached. Her legs ached. Her back ached.

But her heart ached the most.

He noticed her sluggish steps and rested a comforting hand on her lower back, the contact burning through the thin fabric of her tunic.

“A few more weeks, Shamzaadi. I’ve heard this village welcomes all. And I’ll steal the next horse I see,” he reassured. He rubbed soothing circles, his touch never straying too low.

He never touched her beyond what was appropriate.

It was maddening.

She knew he desired her, the same way she did him. She didn’t miss the way his eyes often lingered on the bare skin of her neck, her collarbones.

Hungry, but not for food.

Yet he never acted on it, and she was slowly succumbing to insanity.

At night, when they made camp, she lay her bedroll right beside his instead of across the fire.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s been colder at night,” she explained, biting her lip. His eyes fell to her mouth, and he nodded slowly.

They lay down together, and she could barely breathe. His large, muscular body radiated heat behind her, but a different sort of warmth set her nerves alight. She pressed back slightly, bold and frustrated. He was a marble statue—she was uncertain if he was even drawing breath.

She scooted back again, and his large hand clamped around her hip, stilling her. He growled her name like the sweetest curse. She ignored him, shimmying her hips in his grasp until he released a low, rumbling groan. His grip loosened, and she turned to face him.

His eyes were dark with desire.

When he opened his mouth, she claimed it in a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue and frustration.

He froze, a heartbeat of debilitating doubt, then pushed her onto her back, covering her smaller body with his.

His mouth battled hers for dominance, but she wouldn’t relinquish it so easily.

She tugged his lower lip with her teeth, tasting the sheer want on his tongue.

With a sudden, strangled groan, he pulled back. He sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We can’t do this, Shamzaadi.” His voice was ragged. “It’s not right.”

“Why not?” She hated how small her voice was. “I know you desire me. And I feel the same.”

He wouldn’t look at her. “I came here to kill you.” Self-loathing strangled his words. “And then I never left. There is no one else here for you to want. I robbed you of that. Now, I’m going to make it right.”

Realization dawned on her, sluggish and disbelieving, followed by blistering anger. “You were going to leave me at the village,” she accused, eyes narrowed.

“You can meet someone new. Someone good.” He still didn’t look at her, coward that he was. She jerked him around, forcing him to face the weight of her heavy glare.

“And if someone sees me light a fire with my hands? Or heal a cut away into nothingness? Or if I lose my temper and explode?” She laughed, dry and humorless. “What, then? You’d leave me alone to face that?”

He had no words to appease her.

“If you’re a monster, then I am, too. And I can make my own choices.”

He still had no words, the useless man.

“Your friend was right,” she muttered. “You are a flaming donkey.”

She pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist, and kissed him again.

There was a raging horde of camels stampeding inside her head.

No, not camels.

Camels and horses. Hundreds of them. They were barreling through her brain, bleating and neighing and snorting, in a rush to get somewhere, uncaring of the devastation they wreaked upon her.

She groaned, struggling to sit, and the fucking camels and horses thundered louder until she gave up and lay still, the pounding making it impossible to think.

Beneath the throbbing pain, there was an undercurrent of despair flowing within her, so strong, it made her stomach clench with nausea until bile threatened to shoot up her throat. She grimaced, willing it down.

Gentle hands found her face, massaging her temples. With concerted effort, she cracked her eyes open. Her vision was blurry, but she could see that it was Zarian. He hovered above her, his beautiful, resplendent face etched with concern.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and his rough, gravelly voice was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. It made her feel safe and warm and whole. She wanted to say, No. No, there are camels and horses in my head, but when she tried, all that left her mouth was a raspy groan.

He helped her sit, propped her against his solid body, and when he turned away, her heart rebelled in her chest, furious at being denied the sight of his face.

But her heart didn’t rage too long, because he quickly turned back with a canteen. He held it to her lips, and she gulped it down, the cool water soothing her parched throat. The horde of animals raging in her head slightly eased their thunderous pounding.

“Easy,” he murmured. “Slow down.” She wanted to listen to him, wanted to do whatever he asked of her, but she couldn’t help it. She was so, so thirsty. She kept gulping and gulping and gulping.

When she finally had her fill, the canteen dropped from her hand. A heavy sleep weighed down her eyelids, and she was powerless to stop it.

Her head ached . That was her first thought when consciousness slowly found her.

Where was she? That was her second thought as she opened her eyes.

She squinted, ready to fight against the bright sun, but instead, a canopy of green leaves framed the sky.

Tall, leafy trees shot up around her, forcing the proud sunlight to diverge into tiny, thin rays begging for passage through the gaps between leaves.

It was peacefully quiet, silent almost, save for the gentle whispering of the wind.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. There was a small firepit nearby with a skewer fixed over it. Farther away, Najoom was tied to a tree, head cocked curiously in her direction. Her blanket fell to her waist. No, not a blanket. It was her cloak, Zarian’s cloak, and a blanket.

A heartbeat later, she realized it was cold . Goosebumps erupted across her arms, and she quickly pulled the layers around her again.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and she turned to see Zarian emerging through the trees, striding quickly toward her. His face had taken a beating—one eye was swollen, an ugly shade of purple, and there were numerous scratches and bruises marring his skin.

Tension radiated from every line of his body. He set down the canteens he was holding and knelt beside her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, eyes tracing her face. He gripped her chin, tilting it toward the scant sunlight.

“I … I think so,” she rasped. “Where are we?”

“The Mountains. On the Shahbaad side.” He uncorked a canteen and handed it to her. She took a deep swig, then another.

“How did we get here?”

He loosed a heavy sigh. “You’ve been asleep for three days.” He looked at her then, eyebrows drawn tightly together, eyes filled with anguish.

As if he were about to ruin her.

“Do you remember anything?” he asked slowly. He moved closer, resting his hands on either side of her knees.

She closed her eyes and racked her brain.

They had gone to Shahbaad Palace searching for her mother and sister.

Soraya hadn’t been there, but her mother had, along with her grandfather.

She pieced together the blurry memories.

It felt like looking through the transparent walls of Soraya’s greenhouse in Alzahra—sometimes, it would be so humid that the glass would fog up and distort the view.

“We—we found my mother and grandfather. We left with them, but the Medjai were waiting for us.” She looked to him for confirmation.

He nodded, his face impassive. “Then, we fought them. I used my light. And—” Her face scrunched up as she struggled to make sense of the blurry images in her mind. “And your friend, he fought with us.”

“Kharteen,” Zarian supplied, nodding. He waited, his wary face dappled with sunlight.

“And then…” She trailed off. A thick, barbed tendril of dread slithered through her veins, leaving deep gouges in its wake.

And then he slit my mother’s throat .

“My mother…” she breathed, eyes wide and quickly filling with tears.

She threw herself into Zarian’s arms.

He was ready.

He had been waiting.

She sobbed against him, resounding wails that sent birds fleeing from the branches overhead. Her shoulders shook with the force of her grief, violent shudders that rocked her body.

Zarian held her for nearly an hour, murmuring softly in her ear and rubbing circles against her back. Even after her tears ran dry, she rested against him, limbs weighed down by despair.

“Did you bury her?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“We did. I braided her hair myself.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “She’ll go into the next world with a crown. Where your father is waiting.”

She didn’t respond, her grief burning a gaping hole in her stomach.

Before Shahbaad, the last time she’d seen her mother was right after she’d accidentally blasted Ebrahim with her light. Hadiyah had looked at her in fear.

The last time she’d spoken to her mother had been through a door. She had barricaded herself away after the incident—when Hadiyah came to check on her, she’d refused to let her in, afraid of losing control again.

Guilt and despair and grief took turns clawing at her heart, making it a sport to see which could wound her deepest. When was the last happy moment with her mother? Moons, she couldn’t recall. Her mother had been ripped from this world, in hiding and separated from her daughters.

Zarian must have noticed her spiraling thoughts. “I know things with your mother—”

“I’m starving,” she interjected quickly. “What do we have to eat?” He watched her closely, scanning her face with concern. He didn’t seem to find what he was searching for, because his lips flattened into a thin line, and his brows drew together.

He didn’t press her, though. He rose, bringing over a few items from his pack.

“I’ll hunt something for dinner,” he said apologetically, laying out dried meat and nuts before her. “I didn’t want to leave you alone for too long.”

“Where were you coming from when I woke?” she asked, tearing into a strip of meat.

“There’s a stream nearby. I was refilling the canteens in case you were thirsty again.”

She frowned. “Again?”

He glanced at her. “Yes. You woke last night. I helped you sit up, and you drained the canteen. You don’t remember?” She shook her head, taking another bite of the salty meat. She gazed off into the distance, her mind numbing.

Zarian’s voice tugged her back.

“After the eclipse, you slept for seven days and remembered nothing. This time, it was only three—and your memory returned without issue. You’re gaining control.”

She didn’t bother responding, but he wouldn’t give up so easily. “You’ve wanted to climb the Mountains. Now you’ve done it.”

“I was unconscious.”

“True,” he agreed slowly. “But you’ll have the chance to experience it now.”

Again, she didn’t respond.

He tried again and again to draw her into conversation, but his words were muffled in her ears.

He slit my mother’s throat. He slit my mother’s throat. He slit my mother’s throat. He slit my mother’s throat. He slit my mother’s throat. He —

Zarian grabbed her hand, forcibly yanking her from her thoughts. “Come. Walk with me while I hunt.”

She gave him a brief glance before pulling her hand away, turning her gaze back to the fire. “You go.”

“I could use your help. And you could stretch your legs.”

“Don’t feel up to it.”

“Layna—”

“ I said I don’t want to come!” she snapped.

He stared at her for a beat, emotions warring in his eyes. She didn’t bother trying to discern them. She turned back to the fire, her mind silent.

“I’ll be back soon,” he finally said.

She didn’t respond.

Layna didn’t register the time. Zarian could have been gone for one minute or one thousand minutes. He came back all the same, striding through the trees, clutching a dead rabbit in one hand.

“Any excitement while I was gone?” he asked with a small smile.

“No.”

He hummed, sitting down across her. Using his dagger, he made quick work of skinning the rabbit before skewering it.

Layna watched in silence.

He slit my mother’s throat.

He slit Mama’s throat.

He slit —

He —

He —

Blood. So much blood.

Soraya doesn’t know. Soraya doesn’t know.

Mama —

She’s gone.

“Layna?” Zarian called. She startled, turning to look at him.

“Talk to me,” he implored, placing a hand on her back. “You’re not alone, my love.”

“Do you think it hurt?” she whispered through the lump in her throat. “When he… He—” Zarian pulled her against him, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“No,” he murmured. “It was over quickly. I doubt she felt anything.”

She swallowed thickly. “I just wish I had more time. To make things right with her.”

“She knew you loved her. And she loved you . I know things were complicated these past few months because of … me. But even that was out of love. She only wanted the best for you.”

Zarian kissed the crown of her head. He grabbed a piece of the rabbit meat and brought it to her lips. She turned her face away, but he was persistent.

“You need to eat, my love.”

Still, she refused.

Zarian sighed. “Fine. I won’t eat if you won’t. And this poor rabbit will have died for nothing.”

She gave him a baleful glare and received a smile in return.

With a sigh, she relented and allowed Zarian to feed her bites of the cooked rabbit.

Her stomach rumbled loudly while she ate, as if to say, Finally .

She hadn’t realized how famished she was until she began eating.

By the end, she had finished nearly three-quarters of the plate on her own.

She watched as Zarian put out the fire. Grief whispered in her ears, ever present, but she felt more grounded now that her stomach was full.

Zarian sat across from her. Tears welled again, quiet and aching, but she blinked them away, giving him a watery smile. Her gaze focused on his battered face.

She motioned him closer. “Let me heal you.”

He shook his head. “It looks worse than it feels.”

“I’m all right,” she huffed, sitting up on her knees. “Don’t worry.” Hands raised, eyes closed, she called to the gentle, serene cable inside her.

It didn’t answer.

Brows furrowed, she tried again, focusing harder, straining to listen to the humming of her power.

Silence. Her heart began to race.

“Everything all right?” Zarian asked, concern coloring his voice.

Her heart beat in her ears, and she searched for the other two winding cords of power, the bold and fast light and the writhing inferno of rage.

But those, too, had vanished.

Her eyes shot open, wide and panicked, and met Zarian’s worried gaze. With growing horror, she realized it had been silent all day—no buzzing in her ears.

Her breath escaped in fast pants. “My light. It’s gone.”