Page 55 of The Moon's Daughter
Jorah’s brow furrowed. “Azhar, my son—Ineed the princess to harness her power once the prophecy is fulfilled,” he explained. He paused for a moment, his mind racing. “But after I destroy Alzahra and control the continent, then—then you shall have her.”
The promise was a hollow one, and they both knew it. Yet, it was a bargain struck in the shadows of ambition and vengeance. Though Jorah loved Azhar like a son,thiswas the one concession he could not make.
“You’ve done well. But now, you must rest. The war will escalate from here,” Jorah continued. “We must stand ready, my son. Ready to deploy every shred of our cunning, every ounce of our strength. I need you at your peak.”
Azhar met Jorah’s gaze with cold, hazel eyes. “I understand,” he responded. “I will be ready.”
Jorah departed, leaving Azhar to the silence of his chambers. He contemplated how the war would progress. Alzahra would undoubtedly retaliate, and the war would officially begin.
Yet, in the depths of his cold heart, the thought of Layna, a prize to be claimed, provided a twisted sense of anticipation.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the heart of the Alzahran desert, Layna stood under a starry sky, the full moon casting its glow across the sands. She watched as a creeping shadow slowly engulfed the moon, turning the sky a deep, blood-red. The desert came alive around her, sands morphing into the shadowy forms of warriors and beasts. Encircled by this ominous spectacle, Layna’s heart pounded with fear, her escape blocked by the encroaching figures.
Amidst the chaos, a voice whispered, “Rise, Daughter! Rise!” The spectral warriors and beasts bowed down before her.
As the moon emerged from the shadow, bathed in a new, radiant light, Layna felt an immense power surge through her. Raising her arms, the desert sands obeyed her command, swirling violently around her.
The earth beneath her trembled, resonating with her newfound might, until a large chasm split open beneath her bare feet. Layna plummeted into the gaping divide, enveloped in an all-consuming darkness, her sight swallowed by the abyss.
The princess jolted awake with a strangled gasp, her heart hammering a painful rhythm against her ribcage. The dream had never extended that far before.
She rushed to the washroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to erase the lingering terror. Layna stared into the mirror, droplets trickling down her pale face, her mind replaying her dream’s terrifying new development.
As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Layna returned to her room. A steely resolve settled over her. She needed answers, and she knew exactly where to start.
Layna found her father in his private office in the west wing. The spacious study, its walls lined with towering bookshelves, centered around a large mahogany desk cluttered with parchments and inkwells. Oil lamps ensconced within the walls cast a warm glow over the room.
A grand tapestry depicted a battle where mythical creatures and warriors clashed under a pitch-black sky. Emerald and sapphire dragons soared above, their scales shimmering in the moonlight, while below, the armored warriors fought their enemies with glinting swords.
Near the tapestry, an arched window offered a view of Alzahra City, sunlight casting shadows on the polished stone floor. A few potted plants, a personal touch from Soraya, added a bit of greenery to the otherwise austere room.
King Khahleel sat behind his desk, his shoulders slumped.
“Baba,” Layna called as she entered.
Khahleel looked up but did not seem surprised to see her. He sighed deeply and cradled his head in his hands.
“Layna,” he said softly, “I spoke with Zarian. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Layna nodded, her heart heavy. With slow steps, she came to sit across from him.
“Why did you keep this from me?” she asked quietly.
He looked away, shame coloring his features. “When the Medjai first came with their prophecy, I couldn’t bring myself to accept it. Even after they showed me the ancient texts, I thought they were just religious fanatics.” He took a breath, steeling himself. “I remember hearing you and Soraya giggling behind the tapestry. My mischievous, carefree girls. The thought of you shouldering such an immense burden was unthinkable.”
Layna’s eyes widened, and a faint smile touched her lips. “You knew we were there?”
Her father’s eyes softened. “Yes, I always knew. You two were never as sneaky as you thought. Hearing your laughter, so full of innocence and joy, made it even harder to accept that one day you would face such a heavy destiny.”
“But then your nightmares began, and I knew the prophecy must be true. I tried to prepare you, to strengthen you, but a part of me still hoped it was just a tale.” Khahleel paused and met Layna’s eyes. “That hope shattered when the Medjai returned months ago, saying the time was imminent. They promised to send someone to protect you. I agreed, believing it was the best path forward.”
“And they sent Zarian,” she said flatly.
“Yes, they sent Zarian,” Khahleel repeated, observing her closely. “He is one of their best. And their prince. I trust him. He has been honorable thus far.”
Layna remained silent, conflicting emotions fighting for dominance in her eyes. The truth of Zarian’s betrayal lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice the words.