Page 25 of The Moon's Daughter

“Thank you,” Zarian responded, keeping his tone carefully neutral. Burhani’s interest in a romantic relationship was clear, and he did not wish to lead her on. “The entire council’s insights serve well.”

Burhani laughed loudly, attracting attention from nearby guests. “You’re always so modest. Your leadership is invaluable.”

He offered a restrained smile. “I appreciate your confidence.”

As they continued to dance, Burhani leaned in slightly, her chest brushing against his. “We have much in common, you know. We’re both outsiders here.”

Zarian’s shoulders tensed. “It’s a blessing,” he said, his stubborn eyes fixed on Layna over Burhani’s head. “Our different perspectives can be quite useful.” When he looked back at Burhani, he noticed her smile had dimmed. His brow furrowed slightly as a whisper of guilt crept in.

“Are you from Navrastan?” he asked, refocusing on her as they glided across the marble floor.

“Originally, yes. But my mother and I moved to Thessan when I was quite young,” Burhani said quietly, glancing away.

“Do you miss it?” Sympathy threaded its way through him. She tightened her grip on his shoulder and sighed.

“Terribly,” she replied with a half-smile, her red lips matching her dress. “I was studying to be a scholar of the Grand Libraries.” Her eyes dimmed, and her smile faded into a wistful curve.

“Tell me more,” Zarian requested, twirling her gracefully. Drawing her back, he put a bit more distance between their bodies.

“It was always just Mama and me. But she fell ill a few years after we came to Thessan. The doctors were baffled. It was slow, she was sick for years. And then, one day she was just gone.” Burhani bit her lip and inhaled shakily. “A few weeks later, Ebrahim came. Mama had written to him before she passed. He brought me here.”

“I am so sorry, Burhani,” Zarian said quietly.

Burhani shrugged. “It’s alright.” As the song ended, her hand lingered on his arm.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said with a soft smile, gently removing his arm from her grasp. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Her smile faltered briefly before she masked it with a gracious nod.

With a respectful bow, Zarian stepped away, his eyes finding Layna, still dancing with Prince Malik.

Needing a moment to quell the rising tide of envy, Zarian walked to the refreshment area.

“Some wine, Your Majesty?” asked the barkeep from behind the counter.

Zarian eyed the pale liquid for a beat. “Just water for me, thank you,” he replied quietly. As he took a sip, Soraya approached him with a radiant smile.

“Zarian!” she greeted. “Enjoying the festivities?” She glanced down at his glass. “No wine? You can relax for one night!” Soraya reached past him and plucked a flute off the counter.

He returned her smile, albeit wryly. “I don’t drink. And yes, I am enjoying the festivities. Though I suspect you had a hand in the striking color coordination between your sister and myself,” he insinuated, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, I merely suggested the color. Any resemblance to your outfit is purely coincidental.” Soraya gave him a disarming smile, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

Zarian chuckled. “By the way, Layna is looking for you.”

Soraya’s expression softened. “I’ll find her soon. But you really must ask her to dance before one of these lackluster princes sweeps her off her feet.”

Zarian forced a smile, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “None of them hold a candle to her.” His eyes slid back to Layna on the dance floor with yet another partner.

“That’s for certain,” Soraya agreed, following his gaze.

Zarian turned back to the younger princess and stepped closer. “And Soraya, in your own pursuits…tread carefully,” he advised quietly. Her eyes widened briefly before she composed herself, giving him a small nod as she departed.

Returning to the outskirts of the dance floor, Zarian struggled to maintain his resolve. Seeing Layna in the arms of other men was unbearable. He needed to feel her hand in his, to experience the connection that seemed to spark whenever she was near.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, Zarian made his way through the crowd.

During a brief pause between dances, Layna retreated to a quiet corner of the ballroom. She gratefully accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant, savoring a moment to catch her breath.