Page 4 of The Moon's Daughter
Layna surveyed the multitude of dishes spread across the table before settling on a plate of delicately arranged pastries and a pot of strong, aromatic coffee. “Prince Nizam,” she said, smiling brightly, “may I offer you some of our traditional pastries? They’re freshly made this morning. And perhaps some coffee?” She reached for the pot with practiced poise.
“That would be lovely. Thank you.” He smiled, gratefully accepting the offered plate. “Your hospitality is unmatched,” he added appreciatively as she poured him a cup of coffee.
Layna beamed, her heart somersaulting in her chest.
As they savored breakfast, Queen Hadiyah broke the comfortable silence. “Prince Nizam, we’ve heard much about your homeland. We would love to know more about your family as well.”
Nizam paused mid-bite to respond. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He hastily chewed and swallowed before responding. “My father, King Amnaar, is a devoted ruler. He and my mother, Queen Nissa, are loving parents. I’m truly blessed. I also have two younger sisters, Yasmirah and Yasminah. They keep the palace alive with their mischief.” A fond smile crossed his face, but it faded as he continued. “My father has been recovering from a stomach illness.” A shadow passed over Nizam’s features. “He’s mostly fine now, but his recovery has been slower than we’d hoped. It’s why I must return to Baysaht after only a week’s time—to continue overseeing the kingdom while he rests.”
Soraya leaned forward, eyes slightly narrowed. “Queen Nissa can manage the kingdom for a short time while you’re away, no?”
Khahleel coughed into his coffee, while Hadiyah raised her eyebrows at Soraya in warning. The younger princess tilted her head, looking at her parents inquisitively, not quite understanding their concern.
Nizam shifted uneasily in his chair, his gaze darting briefly to his lap. “My mother is not quite involved in ruling matters,” the prince finally said. “Things are a bit different in Baysaht.”
Soraya opened her mouth to inquire further, but Lord Ebrahim interjected, expressing warm sentiments for King Amnaar’s recovery. The room fell silent, the atmosphere turning solemn as the group absorbed Nizam’s words.
“Lord Ebrahim,” Nizam said, turning to the senior adviser. “I understand you have a daughter. She has not joined us?”
“Yes, I do.” Lord Ebrahim smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling behind his spectacles. “Her name is Burhani. She is currently in Janta working to secure a trade agreement. It’s her first diplomatic mission. I don’t expect her back for another week or so.”
Nizam nodded appreciatively. “If she is anything like her father, she must be quite skilled at diplomacy.”
Soraya exchanged a furtive grimace with Layna, who struggled to keep her laughter in check.
“She is an avid learner. Burhani is very bright,” Lord Ebrahim said with pride. “Just like our Layna here.” He smiled warmly at Layna, running an affectionate hand over her head.
“Lord Ebrahim gives me too much credit,” Layna said with a grin. “He’s spent countless hours teaching me over the years, mostly because I drove my tutors to the brink of madness.” Everyone laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the room. After a beat, Layna turned to her father. “Baba,” she said brightly, “Soraya and I were planning to take Prince Nizam on a tour of the city today.”
Her father, more relaxed in this informal setting, nodded his approval. “An excellent idea,” he concurred. “It would be good for Prince Nizam to experience our culture firsthand.”
The palace stables buzzed with activity. Ready to venture into Alzahra City, Layna had changed into lightweight trousers and a short-sleeved tunic, her sword belted securely at her waist. Her horse, Qamar, a majestic Arabian mare with a glossy white coat and a shimmering mane, greeted her with a soft nicker. Layna adjusted Qamar’s saddle with practiced ease, tenderly stroking her mane, whispering words of fondness.
Meanwhile, the stablehands prepared a robust, noble bay horse for Prince Nizam. As they equipped the steed with saddle and bridle, it stood patiently, ready to tread the streets of Alzahra City.
Soraya had gracefully bowed out of joining them, citing an urgent need in the palace greenhouse. Layna saw through the flimsy excuse and felt a surge of gratitude. She was excited to spend the day alone with Nizam.
“No guards?” Nizam asked warily from atop his horse, his head tilted slightly and eyebrows knit together.
“No, we’ll be alright,” Layna reassured with a smile, urging Qamar forward.
As the pair rode away from the palace, her pride shined through as she guided him through the vibrant streets. Each turn revealed architectural marvels and historical sites, rich with the city’s storied past.
Trotting along the cobblestone streets, Layna described the ancient Alzahran Aqueduct, an impressive feat of engineering that had stood for centuries. She explained how it channeled water from the distant northern mountains where rainfall was more abundant to sustain the city. A sophisticated network of pipes ensured every building and residence in the capital had running water.
“We’ve been trying to court some engineers from Valtisaan to further modernize the city and perhaps even the villages,” Layna mentioned as they ventured deeper into the city. “But we’ve had no success so far. The Valtisaani are very secretive about their methods.”
“They’ve always been that way,” Nizam agreed. “But even more so now with the new king.”
Next on the tour was the Moon Temple. Centuries ago, the moon was worshipped by the people of Alzahra and across the continent. Over time, the world evolved, and the ancient practices gradually faded. Now, the temple stood as a historical monument, preserved by a few dedicated priests and priestesses. While it rarely saw genuine worshippers, it remained an important piece of Alzahra’s history.
Their ride soon brought them to the heart of a seasonal harvest festival, a yearly celebration that transformed the city with color, music, and laughter. The streets were decorated with red and gold banner flags, fluttering above the bustling crowds. The aroma of spiced foods and sweet treats permeated the air, as vendors called out to passersby with offers of delicacies and handmade crafts. Dancers moved in synchrony to the rhythm of drums and flutes, their vibrant red costumes swirling around them like shimmering clouds.
Nizam watched in awe, his gaze darting from one spectacle to the next, pure fascination etched across his features. Layna couldn’t help but smile. “I’m surprised to see you so taken aback,” she teased gently, eyes sparkling with mirth.
He turned to her with a broad smile. “Amazed would be the right word,” he admitted. “In Baysaht, we have festivals, but they tend to be more ceremonial. But, moons, this”—he gestured broadly at the scene before them—“is refreshingly vibrant. It’s beautiful to see such uninhibited joy and celebration.”
Their conversation flowed easily as the crowd parted around them, many of them waving to Layna, who smiled and waved back.