Page 60 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

J amil kept his hood low over his face as he walked through Zolmus, a small Zephyrian town.

The buildings were made of gray bricks, lining the dirt path leading into the main square.

Townsfolk strolled past him, all thickly cloaked against the brisk morning chill.

Some cast wary eyes at his hooded face, but he kept his pace unhurried.

Soraya waited for him back at their campsite—it had taken ages to convince her to let him find Almeer first alone.

Luckily, he knew exactly where to look.

He and Almeer had traveled together, when he ferried him to the Oasis after Almeer was accused of being a Zephyrian spy.

Like Soraya, Almeer loved to talk. And he tended to ramble when he was nervous.

He’d regaled Jamil with tales of his life in Zephyria, his hand drumming an irritating pattern on his leg the entire journey.

Which was how he knew Almeer went to the square every morning to purchase a loaf of samoon from the local makhbaz for his mother.

From a side alley, he kept watch as the unassuming man ducked into the crowded makhbaz , the delicious aroma of freshly baked khubz and taboon wafting through the air.

Ten minutes later, Almeer emerged, parchment-wrapped bundle in hand.

As he walked past the alley, Jamil grabbed him by the cloak and yanked him into the shadows.

The fucking coward would have screamed if Jamil hadn’t clamped a hand over his mouth. His gray eyes were wide with fear, and Jamil could feel his heart racing faster than a rabbit destined for dinner. He shook off his hood.

Recognition slowly dawned over Almeer’s face.

“Not a sound,” Jamil warned, voice low. “Understand?”

Almeer nodded.

When he removed his hand, Almeer immediately whispered, “Soraya. Is Soraya all right? I’ve heard all these rumors—she’s vanished from the palace. Is she alive?”

If he were a better man, he’d pity Almeer.

But he wasn’t, and so the sound of Soraya’s name on Almeer’s tongue boiled his blood.

“Soraya’s fine. She’s with me.” Possessiveness bled into his words, but Almeer didn’t notice. “Meet us in the woods tonight. I’ll give you directions. Make sure you aren’t followed.”

Almeer’s shoulders slumped with relief. He pursed his lips in thought.

Lips he’d kissed Soraya with.

“Should I pack for travel?” Almeer asked.

Jamil’s immediate inclination was to say, You aren’t coming with us, idiot. She’s done with you , but a sliver of doubt raked against his spine.

Would she change her mind after seeing Almeer’s enduring devotion?

“No,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

He had hoped Almeer had moved on already, but the diplomat was clearly ready to abandon everything for Soraya.

Not that he could blame him.

“You are not meeting him alone,” he said firmly.

Soraya arched an eyebrow, resting her hand on her hip. “Excuse me?”

Leaves rustled underfoot as he crossed the campsite and placed his hands on her tense shoulders. “You’re a runaway Alzahran princess in Zephyria. Remember the war they just waged on your kingdom?”

“He won’t hurt me,” she insisted.

“It’s not him I’m worried about. You could easily snap him in half.”

Her lips twitched. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she said. “The things I need to say to him—I’d rather you not hear them.”

He wanted to deny being jealous, but something violent reared up and lashed against his insides. And he was making an effort to be honest about his feelings—a difficult feat after being trained into impassivity and compartmentalization.

“I’ll stay out of sight. And I won’t eavesdrop.”

Narrowed eyes assessed his face. Whatever she found, it softened her features, and she nodded.

When the moment arrived, his heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing with anticipation, fear, and something dangerously close to hope.

“Bring your sword.”

Wordlessly, he belted the strap around her, fingers grazing her waist. The first time they’d trained together, he’d made the mistake of underestimating her. She’d knocked him on his ass and laughed about it for five minutes.

Her lips tipped up, as if she were remembering the same thing, and he resisted the urge to kiss her.

Soon.

Soon, he wouldn’t have to think twice about kissing her.

His footsteps were heavy as they walked toward the clearing where she’d meet Almeer.

A short distance away, they ducked behind a thick outcropping of trees and waited. Through the dense branches, he had a clear view.

After fifteen tense minutes, Almeer walked into the clearing, fingers drumming against his leg.

Soraya made to head over to him, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm, bidding her to wait. He made a silent circuit around the clearing, searching for anyone hidden behind the tall, thick trees.

He found nothing.

Still, he had Soraya wait twenty more minutes, watching Almeer glance around the clearing with hope on his stupid face. When no one else appeared and Almeer didn’t leave, he nodded to her.

Before leaving, she whispered, “Don’t come out. No matter how upset he gets. I need to do this on my own.”

Every nerve in his body fought against him as he watched her walk into the clearing.

Toward Almeer.

Away from him.

Almeer’s face lit up when he saw her, and he rushed forward and pulled her into his spindly arms.

Jamil’s knuckles turned white around the hilt of his sword.

He hadn’t planned to break his word and eavesdrop, but after watching Almeer tenderly cradle Soraya’s face, gray eyes shining with happy tears, his legs moved of their own accord until he could hear their low voices.

“… you hurt? I’ve been so worried,” Almeer said. He pulled her into another embrace.

Jamil’s jaw ached.

“I’ve been all right. And you?”

“Horrible. But it doesn’t matter. What do we do now? Where’s Jamil?”

Soraya sighed.

Jamil held his breath.

“Almeer, listen—”

There was a loud rustling behind Almeer, and two men emerged through the clearing, both bearing resemblance to him.

His father and brother, most likely.

Shit.

Jamil scanned them—unarmed. Still, he grabbed his throwing stars, holding them ready should either of them make a move toward Soraya.

“See, Baba?” the younger man sneered, gray eyes cold with malice. “I was right to have him followed. I knew the missing princess would turn up here eventually.”

“What are you two doing?” Almeer glanced between the men, angling himself in front of Soraya.

Almeer’s father said nothing, appraising Soraya with disdain. “So, this is your Alzahran whore?”

Soraya flinched.

Within seconds, Jamil flew through the clearing, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind him.

The men gaped, three pairs of eyes fixed on the sword pointed at them and the snarling man wielding it.

“Say what you need to say, Soraya,” he bit out. “We’re leaving.” Almeer’s confused gaze found her over his shoulder, and Jamil resisted the urge to block his view.

“Put that away,” Almeer’s father drawled. He shrugged. “Or don’t. When the king’s guard arrives, they’ll know who to disembowel first.”

The color drained from Almeer’s face. “Baba, what have you done?”

Jamil glanced over his shoulder. “Soraya, let’s go. Now.” Her eyes were filled with pain, and it gutted him to see it.

“Goodbye, Almeer,” she said softly.

“Soraya, wait—”

An arrow whizzed past the three men.

Jamil yanked Soraya to the ground, covering her with his body.

Chaos descended.