Page 42 of The Moon's Daughter
Layna’s eyes held his, a storm of emotions swirling within them. Zarian thanked the moon that regret wasn’t one of them.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I truly don’t know.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In a dim, busy tavern in Ezanek, a hub of clinking glasses and murmured conversations, the elder brother sat alone, drumming his fingers on the table. His cloak was drawn up around his face. He inhaled deeply and winced; his nose still had not fully healed.
The tavern was a favorite among locals and travelers alike, its walls adorned with old weapons and shields. The air was thick with the smell of spiced meats and ale, and the hearth cast a warm glow over the worn tables.
He had been waiting for hours, anxiety mounting with each passing moment. Their mission was to gather intelligence on the smuggling of stolen weapons—a matter that threatened the balance of power in the region. His role was dual: to ensure the mission’s success and to oversee his younger brother, a task that weighed heavily on him. Tensions between them had been high, even more so than usual.
His younger brother had left earlier to follow a lead. Now, his prolonged absence was a source of concern. Deciding enough time had passed, the elder brother stood and headed to the door, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in the quiet moments between conversations.
Stepping into the cool night air, he headed east in search of his brother. The sounds of the tavern faded behind him, replaced by the quieter, sinister whispers of the city at night.
As he approached an alley, a disturbing noise caught his ear—a muffled struggle, desperate and panicked. Quickening his pace, he turned the corner and was met with a scene that chilled him down to the marrow in his bones.
His brother, who he fought alongside, who he sought to protect, who he loved, was upon a woman, attempting to ruck up her skirts with one hand while stifling her cries with the other.
The elder brother stood frozen for a heartbeat before fury overtook him, a blazing red-hot anger that scorched his veins. Rushing forward, he roughly yanked his brother back, sending him stumbling into the wall. The woman seized the opportunity and fled, her rapid footsteps echoing her terror in the night.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” the elder brother roared, the fury in his voice reverberating through the alley. “Where is your honor?!”
The younger brother, recovering from the initial surprise, straightened slowly.
“Please, brother,” he scoffed, brushing off his clothes with exaggerated nonchalance. “Have you not had your fair share of dalliances on these missions? I merely seek some entertainment.” He turned and watched the fleeing woman. “A shame. She was a feisty one, too.”
The elder brother hauled back and punched him squarely in the mouth, knocking him to the ground.
“I havenevertaken a woman against her will,” he seethed, his words a low growl in his chest as he glared down at his brother.
The younger man spat out a mouthful of blood, calmly wiping his lip and rising to his feet, unfazed by his brother’s rage.
“How else do you expect me to find companionship with the shadow of the future king looming over me?” he snarled. With a dismissive shrug, he pushed past his elder brother. “I have obtained the intelligence. We can leave,” he declared, as if the altercation was just a minor inconvenience.
The elder brother watched him walk away. The divide between them had never been more apparent, and it was well past the point of repair.
Layna awoke conflicted, memories of the prior night flooding her mind. Their kiss had been perfect—his full lips pressing against hers, the heat of his body, the safety of his embrace. Electricity had crackled through her veins, coursing from her lips to her fingers.
She quickly dressed and joined her family for breakfast. Zarian was notably absent, his empty seat a glaring reminder of the previous evening. Lord Ebrahim and Burhani were also missing, for which Layna was grateful.
King Khahleel and Queen Hadiyah sat quietly at the table. The king periodically cast concerned glances at Layna, while Hadiyah maintained a composed demeanor, her occasional touch on her husband’s arm a quiet gesture of support. Despite her father’s tirade at the council meeting, it appeared her mother bore no resentment.
The usual morning chatter was replaced by a heavy silence, each member of the royal family lost in their own thoughts.
Layna absentmindedly picked at her food. Soraya observed her sister with concern.
The younger princess said, “These palace walls feel stifling lately. Let’s escape for a day, Layna. A ride in the desert might clear our minds.”
Layna met Soraya’s gaze, appreciation softening her solemn expression, a ghost of a smile touching her lips.
“That sounds wonderful. Some space to breathe would be welcome.”
Hadiyah nodded, her eyes shadowed. “It’s a wise idea.”
King Khahleel looked at his daughters with affection. “Go, Layna. Find some peace. I’ll manage the council and address…the matters at hand.”
Layna’s smile deepened as she looked around the table at her family. “Thank you. A ride through the desert sounds lovely.”