Page 66 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

“ — and then Jamil fainted.”

Behind him, Soraya burst into laughter as Kharteen finished his tale.

“I didn’t faint ,” Jamil gritted out, glancing back. “I blacked out from blood loss. Because you failed to find all the sentries.”

He ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, guiding Ahmar through with care before holding it up for Soraya to pass under. He let it fall just as Kharteen passed through, hoping it would smack against his grinning face.

It didn’t.

They’d been traveling together for two weeks—two long weeks—and had reached the dense heart of the Mountains.

Kharteen waved a dismissive hand. “Fainted, blacked out, either way I had to carry your heavy ass back to camp.”

Soraya giggled again. The irritation building in his chest receded slightly.

As annoying as Kharteen’s presence had been, Jamil was certain he was the reason Soraya seemed better each day, the shadows in her eyes growing fainter.

Kharteen made her laugh, usually at Jamil’s expense, and for that, Jamil could tolerate him.

And if he were counting down the days until Kharteen went his own way, then that was no one’s business but his own.

“Let’s stop to eat,” Kharteen said. “My stomach has been grumbling for hours.”

“Your stomach is always grumbling.”

“It has that in common with you.”

Soraya snorted, and he clenched his jaw until his teeth ached.

The trio sat on the ground to eat—dried meat, nuts, and some bright, green berries Soraya had found yesterday.

“Where will you go next?” Soraya asked, folding her legs beneath her on the leaf-covered ground.

“North,” Kharteen said, between gulps of water. “I told you.”

“To Baysaht?”

Kharteen grinned at her, wiping his mouth. “Baysaht is north of here, Princess. The northernmost kingdom on the continent. Glad to see your royal education was well worth it.”

Soraya huffed a laugh, popping a berry into her mouth. “What will you do in Baysaht?”

“I grew up there,” Kharteen replied.

It was near imperceptible, but his jaw tensed. Medjai preferred not to venture into the past, the graveyard of their stolen childhoods.

He tried to catch Soraya’s gaze, signal her to not press Kharteen, but she was singular in her focus. “How did you come to be a Medjai? Baysaht is a long trek from the Oasis.”

Kharteen worked his jaw. “There’s not much to tell.

I lived with my parents and three older brothers.

I was five, maybe six, when illness swept through our village, taking my parents and two brothers along with it.

My remaining brother and I lived on the streets for a time.

But children without parents are easy targets for evil.

Slavers stole us in the middle of the night. ”

Her brows knit together. “But … slave trade was outlawed over half a century ago.”

Kharteen’s rueful smile was laced with pain. “You can’t outlaw anything, Princess. Just make it harder.”

Soraya’s voice was soft. “Then, what happened?”

“We were sold at auction. It was the last time I saw my brother. The man who purchased me brought me to the Oasis, apologizing the entire way for what had happened to me. Said he was bringing me to safety, where I could be with boys my age. Never want for food or shelter. And they’d make me strong, so no one could hurt me again. ”

Kharteen’s hardened eyes met Jamil’s, a silent understanding passing between them, one born of shared pain. “Gratitude is the best manipulator. And the Medjai have it down to an art form.”

Without another word, Kharteen stood and went to tend to the horses.

Soraya’s eyes were wet with tears when she met Jamil’s gaze. He scooted closer to her, and she leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have asked about his past,” she whispered. “You’ve all suffered so much. I—I feel guilty.”

“Why?” Jamil tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her chin-length curls had grown out, now brushing against her shoulders.

“I grew up in a palace. Wanted for nothing. Grief didn’t find me until I was already an adult. With Baba”—her voice cracked—“and now Mama. But you’ve both dealt with that loss as children . And you’ve been suffering since. What right do I have to feel even an ounce of despair?”

He pulled her close against him, brushing a kiss to her cheek.

“You can’t control how you grew up, nor what happened to us. It doesn’t make your pain any less valid.”

Soraya sniffled. “You don’t think I’m a hateful, spoiled princess?”

“None of those words come close to describing you.”

Her fingers trailed up the inside of his arm, sending warmth cascading through him.

“How would you describe me, then?”

Kharteen coughed from over by the horses. “Right. I’ll just go for a walk. Seeing as you’ve both forgotten that I’m right here .”

Soraya hid her face in his neck, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Jamil waited until Kharteen’s grumbling faded into the distance before murmuring in her ear, “Intelligent. Stubborn. Breathtaking.” He traced his finger along her collarbone, eyes greedily tracking the hitch of her breath, the reddening of her cheeks. “Unparalleled.”

He kissed her, gentle and slow, and she melted against him, boneless. She sighed softly as they parted, and the sound sent his blood rushing south, imagining what sounds she might make laid bare beneath him.

The last two weeks had been a delicate balance—Soraya oscillated between guilt-ridden grief, where she’d sob in his arms until she fell asleep, and desperate desire, pent up from weeks of restraint.

Loud footsteps sounded as Kharteen purposefully stomped back. They scrambled apart, but he didn’t spare them a glance as he untied the horses.

“Let’s go, eushaaq .”

Lovers.

They traveled the rest of the day until just past sunset. The trees had thinned out in the last hour of their journey. They were close to Tarakshan now, and in another week, Kharteen would head north while they’d continue west toward Thessan.

Jamil laid out their bedrolls—his in the middle, and Kharteen’s and Soraya’s on either side.

One more week, and there’d only be the two of them.

Soraya nestled under her blankets, and he lay down beside her.

Kharteen went to “scan the perimeter” as he did every night, giving them a small measure of privacy, and Jamil was grateful for this kindness, short as it was.

He propped himself on his elbow, looking down at Soraya. Her eyes were bright as she smiled at him, but he had learned grief could quickly take hold. She’d be laughing one minute, then crying in the next at a memory.

“How are you doing?” he asked softly, tracing a thumb over her cheek.

“I’m all right, I think. I wish I had done so many things differently.

I wish—” She sucked in a deep breath. “I wish I had hugged her goodbye, not just fled on horseback. But then she wouldn’t have let me leave and…

” She trailed off. “I can’t change the past.” Her voice hardened with resolve.

“I’m trying to focus on what I can do. And that’s find my sister. ”

Moons, she was a force, a rose in full bloom, standing tall and unyielding, defying the cruel winds that sought to break her. Soraya, who, when swallowed by quicksand, didn’t sink—she clawed her way out, driven by sheer, unshakable will.

Soraya, who he loved.

He leaned down to kiss her and—

Kharteen’s loud footsteps had him pulling away. He muttered a curse, flopping onto his back.

Soraya laughed lightly, wrapping herself in her blanket.

Kharteen folded himself into his bedroll. The asshole tried and failed to hide a smile.

“Sweet dreams, eushaaq .”

“Shut up.”

Another week passed the same way—stolen kisses and healing hearts—and then it was time for Kharteen to leave them.

Unshed tears glistened in Soraya’s eyes as she pulled Kharteen into a tight embrace. “I hope you find what you’re searching for.”

Kharteen was uncharacteristically serious, squeezing her tightly. “I wish the same for you, Princess.”

When it was his turn, Jamil clapped him on the shoulder, but Kharteen yanked him into a hug. “I’d tell you not to miss me, but I know you’ve been counting down the days,” he said in his ear, voice pitched low.

“Be safe,” Jamil said, pulling back.

Kharteen gave them a salute. “Until next time, eushaaq. ”

A wink, and then he was gone.

Tension underscored every minute of the rest of the day. The climb was still steep, but the trees had thinned out enough that Soraya rode on Ahmar while Jamil walked beside them, giving his horse some measure of relief with the steep terrain.

It was quiet without Kharteen’s constant jabbering, and even chatty Soraya seemed more subdued. Often, he’d turn to steal a glance at her, but found her eyes already fixed on him.

Was she eagerly awaiting nightfall, too?

They made camp and quietly ate dinner. The tense silence between them was nearly unbearable. Now that they were finally alone, he struggled to string together words that would make sense.

Why was Soraya so quiet, though?

Was she nervous about their first night alone together, with nothing between them—not the ghost of a first love or a third, irritating person?

Did she think he expected her to lie with him?

Jamil wasn’t sure what he expected himself. They had never discussed it, not with Kharteen always hovering nearby. He considered bringing it up now but hesitated—just mentioning it might make her think he was demanding it, and that was the last thing he wanted.

It turned out, he didn’t need to say anything.

When they lay down to sleep, Soraya pushed him onto his back and claimed his lips in a fierce kiss. His hands gripped her hips, desperate lips moving against hers, parting her mouth with his tongue.

He greedily swallowed her gasps and moans, the loveliest sounds he’d ever heard. His kiss grew more demanding, teeth nipping at her lower lip. Deftly, he flipped her over, settling himself between her thighs.

She smelled incredible, like rare, fresh rain in the Oasis.

Her lithe body writhed beneath him as he set kisses along the column of her neck, memorizing every inch of her skin. Her hands pressed into his back as he skated his lips against the hollow in her throat, over her chest, down to her stomach. His fingers reached for the hem of her tunic—

“Wait,” she breathed, stilling against him.

Immediately, he froze, eyes finding hers in the dark.

Had he mistaken her intentions?

“We don’t have silpharoon leaves,” she whispered, raking her fingers through his hair.

With a groan, he dropped his head against her stomach. He nuzzled her belly, and her throaty laugh made his uncomfortably tight trousers feel even tighter.

He lifted her tunic and pressed a kiss against her navel, tongue dipping in.

“We’ll make do without it.”