Page 57 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

“What?” she practically snarled.

Layna gritted her teeth. “I need more towels. Please .”

“For what?” The infuriating woman leaned against the door frame and examined her nails.

“I … spilled some water.”

Nylasha looked at her as if she couldn’t be more stupid. She rolled her eyes and pushed off the door jamb. Layna moved to follow her, but she waved her off. “I’ll bring ‘em to yer room.”

Fifteen minutes later, there was a heavy knock on the door. Layna opened it to find the towels on the ground. Seething, she picked them up and mopped the washroom floor.

The sudden rap of knuckles against wood pulled her from her nap. Layna sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The door opened, and Lash hurried in, holding another steaming vat. Zarian followed, clutching another two to his chest. He smiled at her, though it was more a strained pursing of his lips.

Lash pointed out the wood-burning stove and the small basket of wood chips beside it. He left quickly after that, undoubtedly realizing he was this close to wearing down the last of Zarian’s patience.

“You didn’t kill him.”

“Barely.” Zarian sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “I have a headache.”

“I’ll show you how to work the bath before it gets cold,” she said, walking into the washroom. “You need to connect this hose before you drain the tub. It empties over there,” she finished, pointing to the back.

Zarian stared at her for a moment, then at the hose. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, raking a hand through his hair.

Her shoulders dropped. “You already knew.”

Apology shadowed every contour of his face. “I’m sorry, love. It completely slipped my mind that we’ve only stayed in kingdoms with proper plumbing.” His tone was soft, placating, and it raised her hackles.

She took a deep breath, quelling her embarrassment, before responding.

“It’s all right. Now, I know.”

He still eyed her warily as she kissed his cheek.

She lay on the bed and waited for him to finish bathing. After weeks of traveling, the soft mattress felt heavenly, and the bath had soothed her aching muscles.

But a soft bed beneath her back and a roof over her head gave her mind ample time to wreak havoc.

Her mother’s last moments, steeped in fear.

The last time she’d hugged Soraya, not knowing it was the last time.

Healing Zarian’s split lip with a glowing kiss.

Melancholic, suffocating grief rose up and blanketed her with pain.

She let it.

Her eyes welled with tears as the emotions washed over her, the longing, the pain, the anger. It smothered her lungs until sucking in half a breath felt grueling. She poured a glass of water and gulped it down. Then another. When grief tried to drown her once more, she pictured happier moments.

Zarian gifting her the gold dagger.

Playing cards with Soraya.

Gazing at the stars on the mountainside, nestled in Zarian’s arms.

Her breath came easier.

By the time Zarian finished bathing, she’d managed to quell most of her sadness. He emerged from the washroom, bare-chested and clean-shaven.

He looked so much younger without his usual stubble. She wanted to feel his smooth jaw against her skin and was about to tell him as much when there was a soft knock on the door.

“I’ve got yer meals!”

Nylasha’s honeyed voice had her jumping off the bed.

“I’ll get it,” she said quickly. Zarian had the sense not to breathe a word.

For the second time that day, the woman’s coy smile vanished upon seeing Layna in a doorway. She balanced a large tray brimming with plates on her shoulder.

“I’ll just come set this down,” Nylasha said, trying to brush past. Layna angled herself forward, blocking her entry.

“No need. I’ll take that,” she said stiffly. Nylasha scowled and reluctantly handed over the tray. Even still, her eyes roved over Layna’s shoulder through the gap in the door.

Jaw clenched, Layna clicked the door shut. Zarian leaned against the wall, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

“Not. A. Word.”

There was no sofa or table, so she set the tray down on the floor beside the bed.

Zarian was particular about eating in bed—she’d learned that in Sendouk when he’d emerged from the washroom and found her cocooned in their sheets, eating leftover jalebi .

His face had twisted into an expression somewhere between suffering and horror, though he hadn’t said anything.

The wooden frame was unyielding against her back, and Zarian settled beside her. No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept drifting to the tanned expanse of his bare chest, anticipation stirring in her veins. He caught her staring and winked, and she knew—he had forgone a shirt on purpose.

It was a simple meal of vegetable curry, potatoes and flatbread, but after weeks of surviving on rabbit meat and fruit, it tasted like a king’s feast.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about the washroom,” he said, dipping a hunk of flatbread in the curry on her plate.

She laughed. “Really, it’s all right. I was embarrassed, but it’s not your fault.” He fed her a bite of the warm, curry-drenched bread. “None of the cities in Tarakshan have plumbing?”

“Tarak does—where the palace is. They’re expanding, but it will take time. Carving infrastructure into mountains is no easy feat.”

She huffed. “If Valtisaan weren’t so stingy about its advancements, it could change the continent. It used to drive Soraya mad. How did they come by such progress? And so quickly?” A shadow passed over Zarian’s face, as if an old memory played through his mind. “What?”

“Do you remember Khyrain? The Valtisaani monarch before Tamzin?” She nodded.

“Toward the middle of his reign, one of his gold miners discovered a unique stone. It was unlike anything they’d encountered.

Khyrain had scientists and chemists perform experiments, trying to glean more knowledge.

He kept them cloistered in the palace, away from their families, working day and night.

“The stone was incredible. He called it sihrrock . Under the right conditions, it could create light. With different catalysts, it altered the flow of water. When mixed with other elements, it could bond with metal and become indestructible. Khyrain had the experiments documented. Then he murdered everyone who knew about it—the scientists, chemists, and the miner.” Her eyes widened with shock.

“Khyrain brought in new workers from different parts of the continent, and some beyond. Poor, downtrodden people who were promised stable work. He separated them into groups —some who built towering buildings, some who installed plumbing. Weaponry. And others who performed more experiments to learn new uses. Some men, he takes by force—Bedouins and bandits that no one will miss. He uses them as test subjects for experiments to learn how sihrrock affects the body. But he never let these people leave. And breathing a word about sihrrock was punishable by death.”

“How did he manage to keep it a secret from the entire continent?”

Zarian sighed. “It was around this time the Medjai learned about Khyrain and sihrrock . They’d never allow one kingdom to become so powerful. Outside of their control.”

“So they killed him,” she breathed. “But Ebrahim told me Khyrain was a tyrant. His people suffered greatly under his rule.”

“They did; Ebrahim wasn’t wrong. But make no mistake—his tyranny was not the reason the Medjai removed him. They couldn’t stand for someone to hold such power without their leave.”

A question burned in her mind, though she didn’t dare ask it.

He sensed it anyway.

“I wasn’t the one who killed Khyrain. But it makes no difference. I’ve killed plenty others.” His voice had gone hollow, his eyes dimmed. She climbed into his lap, twining her arms around his neck.

His hands tightened around her waist as he continued, “They propped up Tamzin through a rigged election. Told him he could keep the sihrrock all to himself. They’d help him keep it secret and find a steady supply of workers—Khyrain would kill the workers after a time, you see.

To make sure no one breathed a word. As long as Tamzin vowed to defer to the Medjai. ”

“How do you know all this?”

“I spent time in Valtisaan. When I was searching for my brother.”

Her brow furrowed. “But—Valtisaan allied with Zephyria against Alzahra. The elders approved?”

“No. He crossed a line.” Zarian shook his head. “You and I have kept the Medjai busy, but I’d bet all the gold we have that Tamzin will disappear soon. As for Ezanek—they’ll either scare Faimal into compliance or replace him.”

“What do the elders want? Why go through all this trouble to make monarchs bend to their will?”

“Control.”

They finished eating in silence. Layna watched him through her eyelashes, waiting for the tension in his shoulders to ease.

“Ask your question, my love.”

Moons, he could read her so well.

“Do you worry about your father?” she asked cautiously.

A muscle feathered in his cheek. “I don’t think about it. He made his choices. There’s nothing I can do for him.”

“We could—”

“No. We’d be walking into our deaths.”

“But—”

“ No .”

His sharp tone rang with finality, but he softened it with a kiss on her cheek. He grasped her hands and splayed them over his bare chest—a distraction, but one he needed.

His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, heat seeping into her palms as she greedily mapped every inch of him. Her hands swept over broad, muscled shoulders, tracing the thick ridges of his collarbones, then drifted lower, skimming the firm planes of his chest.

Zarian’s fingers tugged impatiently at her tunic. But she tsk ed, capturing his wrists and pinning them against the bed.

“I can touch you, but you’re not allowed to touch me,” she said, lifting her chin and arching a brow, daring him to question her.

His eyes darkened, jaw flexing. “The fuck I’m not,” he growled, and the rough timbre of his voice, the heat in his glare, sent coiling tendrils of desire shooting through her.

He didn’t move, though, his hands remaining where she had left them. Still, his hazel gaze tracked her every motion with hungry precision.

She resumed her exploration, shifting in his lap and tracing the corded veins that ran across his biceps and forearms. His breathing grew ragged when she replaced her fingers with her lips.

He leaned in, closing the gap between them, but she pulled back just before their lips met. “You’re being cruel,” he growled, his voice thick with desire, eyes dark and hungry.

Her lips curved up, leaning in just enough for her breath to tease his ear. “You showed such restraint in Alzahra. Where is it now?”

She rolled her hips, and a strangled groan tore from his throat.

“It’s. Long. Gone,” he all but snarled, dipping his head for another kiss. But she pulled away again, and his groan was pure agony.

He was straining now, fists clenched tightly, but he kept his arms against the bed as she commanded, as if bound by invisible ropes. She rose from his lap, and he looked at her helplessly, a plea for mercy in his gaze.

Ever so slowly, she peeled off her tunic, then her chemise.

His eyes were hooded as he watched her, mouth parted, wanton lust etched on his face. His searing gaze traced her like a touch, and her skin pebbled in response. Her trousers pooled at her feet, and then her mighty lion couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

In a blink, he was towering over her, his lips slanting over hers in a punishing kiss. Muscular arms tossed her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing, swiftly covering her body with his own, pinning her wrists above her head with one large hand.

“My turn to be cruel,” he rumbled in her ear.

Afterward, they lay on their sides, facing each other in the dark. Her head rested on his bicep, skin tingling as he traced winding patterns over her thigh.

“Do you still think about it?” she asked softly. “On the mountain, when I—”

He silenced her with a kiss.

“You took what you needed, and I freely gave it. We talked about what happened after and moved on. Let’s leave it in the past now.” He kissed her again, slow and tender and languid, and her heart felt whole.

When they parted, he traced the hollow of her cheek. “You were crying while I was in the washroom.”

She nodded slowly. “I was thinking about Mama and Soraya. But I’m all right.” Her smile was reassuring, and grew wider still when she realized it was the truth.

She was all right.