Page 26 of The Moon's Daughter
Her reverie was broken by Zarian’s approach. She watched as he stalked toward her, a man on a mission, his hazel eyes glinting in the light. Coming to stand before her, his posture was strangely stiff, his jaw slightly clenched, an intensity radiating from him that was impossible to ignore. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a beat. His shoulders relaxed slightly before he offered his hand.
“May I have this dance, Princess?” he requested, his deep voice resonating through her.
She tentatively clasped his hand, feeling the cool touch of his fingers as he intertwined them with her own. Unlike the other princes, Zarian’s palm bore the rough calluses of a warrior.
He guided her to the floor, leading them into the first steps of the dance, their movements quickly falling into a smooth rhythm.
“Did you enjoy your dances with the other princes?” he asked, his tone seemingly casual, though Layna could see the fire burning in his eyes. “Did any of them spark your interest, perhaps?”
Layna watched, transfixed, as a muscle feathered in his cheek.
He’s jealous.
Layna reveled in the thought. She couldn’t resist teasing him. “Prince Amir of Minhypas was particularly charming,” she said, eyes sparkling mischievously. “He’s quite the dancer.”
Zarian’s jaw tightened further, along with his grip on her waist. Her gown billowed as he twirled her away with a swift motion, then pulled her back quickly into his strong arms.
“And you? Did you enjoy dancing with Burhani?” Layna asked breathlessly, her palms braced against his muscled chest.
Zarian gave her an easy smile and arched his eyebrow. “Would it bother you if I did?” Layna frowned and looked away. He twirled her again, then drew her back into his arms, her back pressed flush against his chest. “I think you’ll be relieved to know that I didn’t,” he murmured in her ear.
As they continued to dance, the world around them faded into a dimmed hush.
“You move with the grace of a warrior, Princess,” Zarian remarked softly. A pleasant shiver ran up her spine as he traced patterns on her lower back.
“Iama warrior. And you dance with a precision that speaks of more than just courtly training.”
Their gazes locked, and the desert itself held its breath.
“Perhaps,” Zarian conceded with a faint smile. “But true understanding lies beyond the steps of a dance.”
Layna’s heart quickened. “Just understanding, or something more?”
Zarian’s smile widened, guiding her through a twirl. “Do youwantmore, Princess?” he murmured, his voice a velvety whisper.
A breathless laugh escaped her, and she averted her eyes as a furious blush warmed her cheeks.
As they danced, the space around them seemed to shrink, leaving them cocooned in their own private world within the crowded ballroom.
“You read people well,” Layna noted, her eyes twinkling in the chandelier light. “Is that a skill you learned in the royal court of the Oasis or in the company of the Medjai?”
“Perhaps a bit of both. But I find you equally enigmatic. You hide your true self behind your royal façade. I think you wish for something more. What do you seek?”
Layna sighed softly, eyes downcast, as she absentmindedly stroked his shoulder. “Freedom, I suppose. To explore the world beyond Alzahra, freedom from my responsibilities.” She gave him a small, dejected smile.
For a moment, Zarian looked at her with what seemed like pure longing. He said nothing, but tightened his hold on her waist and hand, drawing her closer to him.
As the music swelled, the electricity of their connection seemed almost tangible. Each glance, each touch, ignited sparks that danced invisibly in the space they shared.
“Princess,” Zarian said as the song ended, “this has been perfect. Thank you.”
Layna met his eyes, her breath catching. “Yes, quite perfect,” she managed to reply, feeling a familiar warmth spreading through her. As the final notes died away, they reluctantly stepped apart.
As the evening continued, Layna finally caught sight of Soraya. She was on a balcony that overlooked the ballroom, radiant in a flowing gown of vibrant burgundy. She stood partially concealed in the shadows, and for good reason—she was in close company with a young nobleman.
Engrossed in their own world, Soraya and the young man shared soft laughter and quiet conversation. Layna noticed Soraya’s bright eyes and the gentle tilt of her head as she listened to him, the subtle way their hands brushed against each other.
Sisterly concern radiated in her chest. She knew Soraya to be a free spirit, but this was more serious. Who was this nobleman, and what were his intentions? Layna felt a pang of worry, but there was also a part of her that felt happy for Soraya, seeing her so evidently smitten.