Page 7 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

S queak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

The pump announced her laziness to anyone still in the vicinity of the village square, though thankfully, most sensible townsfolk had already headed home.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the ground. It had been nearly an hour since her mother asked her to fetch water from the village’s only well. She’d gone for a walk instead, the sun’s rays beckoning her down a brightly lit path.

Squeak.

Her arms ached by the time the bucket crested the mouth of the well. She reached for it, but muscular, sun-bronzed arms snatched it first.

“Bit late for water, no?” He grinned, with those full, sensuous lips, and she forgot how to form words. He towered over her, the setting sun illuminating his honeyed hair like a radiant halo.

He’d been seeking her out more often lately, often appearing unbidden where he had no business—the seamstress’s shop and the wheat fields. Sometimes, he loitered near her family’s cottage and offered to accompany her wherever she was headed.

She couldn’t say she minded.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offered, arching a brow, as if waiting for her to challenge him.

She smiled back. “Yalla,” she said, waving at him to follow.

The ground was still muddy from the heavy rain they saw a week ago, and her thatched sandals sunk into the wet earth with each step.

They reached the long line of homes past the square.

Her brown cottage was the same color as the mud squelching beneath her feet, brightened only by the colorful wildflowers her mother had nurtured in wooden planters outside their windows.

Two houses over, his family’s home was nearly identical.

“I’ll take this out back,” she said, reaching for the bucket.

He held it away. “It’s heavy. I’ll carry it.”

She arched a thick brow, strange, tangled feelings simmering inside her. She’d been carrying this very same bucket to and from the village square since she was ten summers old.

But her heart rejoiced because he wanted to prolong his time with her.

“All right,” she said, ducking toward the side of the house toward a small courtyard in the back. He set down the bucket and turned to her, eyes darkened.

He stepped closer, and her heart spasmed in her chest.

Another step, and her palms began to sweat, a searing warmth spreading through them.

One last step, and their toes were touching. Her chest brushed against his with every deep, nervous breath.

“May I kiss you?” he asked softly, dark eyes earnest. She nodded breathlessly, and he tilted her face up. Her eyes closed and lips parted, unbidden.

His lips were soft on hers, gentle and warm. Large hands found her back, pressing her closer against him, while her palms settled on his broad, firm chest.

It was everything she dreamed her first kiss would be.

A soft moan escaped her as his lips grew firmer, parting her mouth with gentle insistence. A fire lit in her belly, hazy rays of desire shooting through her limbs. His hands tangled in her long hair, pulling her closer, his tongue tasting her mouth.

He groaned as if she were the most decadent treat he’d ever had.

Her heart beat a furious rhythm, and she must not have been breathing enough in the space between kisses, because a strange sort of lightheadedness dulled her senses. She swayed on her feet, but he held her firmly to his chest, his mouth trailing kisses down her damp neck.

A fiery inferno raged through her, and she felt hot, so hot, as if someone had melted the mighty sun and injected it into her veins. Sweat dripped down her back and—

He yelped and pulled away, releasing her and staggering backward. His dark eyes no longer held desire.

They were frosted with fear.

Her eyes fell to his chest. Dark scorch marks marred his white tunic.

They were the shape of hands.

“Should we tell the council?” Layna asked. Ebrahim and her mother sat across the large desk in her father’s office. Her office. Zarian dragged over a chair and sat beside her.

“Are you certain it was actually light? Perhaps the mob rattled you. Or the sun reflected off the carriage window,” Hadiyah suggested, a deep crease etched between her brows. Her mother glanced nervously at Ebrahim.

“I’m certain, Mama. I wish I were wrong.”

“Telling the council is a mistake,” said Zarian. “We can’t risk the Medjai elders learning about Layna’s powers. You saw Zanjeel and the others when they arrived after the eclipse. Their suspicion. Their fear. If even a whisper reaches them, it would be dangerous for Layna.”

Hadiyah scowled at Zarian, turning up her nose. “It’s interesting, then, that they sent you here to protect her.” Zarian tensed at her thinly veiled accusation, fingers tightly gripping the armrest.

“What are you trying to say, Mama?” Layna demanded, her stony gaze fixed on her mother. Hadiyah was right, of course. The elders had initially sent Zarian to dispose of Layna should she threaten the balance.

But they had already healed that fissure between them, and Layna would not allow her mother to question Zarian about it now.

“Nothing,” Hadiyah replied stiffly. “In any case, I agree. We should not speak a word to anyone.”

Ebrahim cleared his throat. “The mob—I can’t imagine how horrifying that must have been for you, Layna.

Such intense emotions could very well have triggered the return of your powers.

We should think about ways to help you keep them in check.

In the meantime, I’ll search the library, see if I can find anything that might help. ”

With the meeting over, the group stood to leave. “Layna, might I speak with you for a moment?” asked Hadiyah softly. Layna inclined her head at Zarian, who reluctantly left the room along with Ebrahim.

Hadiyah sat back down and cradled her head. When she finally glanced up, she looked exhausted. “Nizam arrives tomorrow.”

“I’m aware,” said Layna simply, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her mother sighed, deflating. “I know your heart is with Zarian. But please , you must think of your kingdom. Your people.”

“The people who want to oust me as their queen?”

“Not all of them feel that way. They are afraid. The rumors have been vicious, but they will fade with time.” When she said nothing, Hadiyah rose and walked around the large desk and grasped her hands.

“Layna, please. With your father gone, Alzahra is weak . Weaker than we have ever been. The council is displeased with your relationship with Zarian. An alliance with Baysaht will silence them and strengthen us in front of the other kingdoms.”

Layna pressed her lips together. “We don’t even know if Nizam plans to propose. He never continued our courtship, remember? Why would he have changed his mind now?”

“He gave you half his army, and only a third returned to Baysaht. He needs to prove his decision was not in vain. Of course he is coming to propose.”

Layna reclined on the small sofa in her chambers, reviewing the peace treaties Ebrahim had drafted.

The combined goods and gold from Valtisaan, Ezanek, and Zephyria would bolster their stores significantly, and the land from Zephyria was fertile and flourishing with crops.

She had meant to look at the treaties earlier in the day, but her conversation with her mother still weighed heavily on her.

The door burst open with a loud thud , and she jumped. Parchments flew into the air, gliding down in a cascade of inked platitudes. A sullen Soraya walked in and closed the door behind her.

“You should knock first,” Layna admonished, gathering her papers.

“Why?” asked Soraya petulantly. “It’s not like Zarian visits any––” She stopped abruptly at the stricken look on Layna’s face. “I’m so sorry, Layna. That was awful of me. Almeer left today, and I’m a mess. I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s all right,” Layna said with a small smile. She patted the spot beside her and added, “Tell me about his visit.”

After the eclipse, Jamil had escorted Almeer back to his home in Zephyria.

He and Soraya had exchanged letters since then, and a few weeks ago, the sisters had finally told their mother about him.

Predictably, Hadiyah had not been pleased, but Layna remained firm—insisting this was a perfect opportunity to rebuild ties with Zephyria.

And so, Almeer was granted permission to visit Soraya.

Soraya plopped down beside her. “His family is unhappy. They’re pressuring him to end our relationship.

In his town, everyone supported the war against Alzahra.

Now, they’re outraged Zephyria must cede land to us.

They see his relationship with me as a betrayal.

It’s been difficult on his family.” Soraya’s chin began to quiver.

“He reassured me, of course. That he loves me. And that his family will come around in time.” She sniffled, and a tear escaped, tracing a wet path down her cheek, quickly wiped away.

Layna wrapped her sister in an embrace, rubbing a soothing hand over her back. “Almeer is right. It will work out. It’s so soon after the war. People will forget and move on.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice still watery. “It will be. But tell me, how are you doing? Mama told me about the incident with the mob. And your … powers.”

“It was awful,” Layna said quietly, her voice muffled against Soraya’s shoulder.

“I’ve sacrificed so much for this kingdom—given pieces of myself I can never get back.

And still, they want me gone. And about my powers …

I don’t know what to do. Zarian insists we keep it secret.

He went over breathing techniques to steady my heart when my emotions spiral.

I just hope it’s enough—at least until Ebrahim uncovers something useful in the hidden library. ”

“Are things better now with Zarian?” Soraya asked tentatively.

“Yes, finally,” she sighed. “We had a long talk in Adrik. I reassured him he has nothing to fear. And he was quite … impassioned during the carriage ride back, though I know it was driven mostly from jealousy. But Nizam arrives tomorrow, and I’m sure Zarian will go back to brooding.”

“He will definitely brood,” Soraya agreed.

“Sometimes, I think Zarian would be jealous of the sun for warming your skin or water for quenching your thirst.” Layna cracked a smile, and the sisters shared a laugh.

After a brief pause, Soraya hesitantly asked, “What will you do if Nizam asks you to marry him?”

Layna sighed. “I don’t know. I have to handle this diplomatically.

Obviously, I don’t want to marry Nizam, but I can’t just throw him out, can I?

Not after his aid during the war. It saved us, as much as I hate to admit it.

” She tugged at her sleeves, twisting the fabric between her fingers.

“My plan is to first see what he wants. And then figure out how to respond. So basically, no plan and no clue.”

Soraya’s smile was tight-lipped as she squeezed Layna’s arm. “I don’t envy you, dear sister. My problems seem like a grain of sand compared to the raging sandstorm you’re trapped in.”