Page 67 of The Moon's Daughter
Lord Garrisman glanced around before leaning closer. “Does it truly matter? We all know Jorah longed for war with Alzahra. He had been orchestrating it for months. Now, we’re merely awaiting confirmation of the eclipse before launching our attack.”
Lord Ebric shifted uncomfortably. “Still, without proof can we really—”
Garrisman cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Listen, Ebric. It would be wise for you not to question Azhar’s claims too closely. The man is ruthless, perhaps a touch unhinged. Questioning him, especially now, could beunhealthyfor you.”
Lord Ebric’s eyes widened behind his spectacles, the unspoken threat hanging between them like a noose. “I understand,” he stammered. “We must stand united behind our new king.”
Garrisman nodded, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Exactly. Azhar’s path is now Zephyria’s path. We march to war under his banner, for better or worse.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Valtisaan, a city unlike any other on the continent, gleamed under the twilight sky. It was a marvel of modernity and advancement, nestled within the heart of a world that had not quite caught up. The streets were lined with luminescent stones that glowed softly, illuminating the path for travelers and citizens alike. The architecture blended traditional elegance and contemporary innovation, with buildings that soared toward the heavens, their surfaces shimmering with a metallic sheen.
Cloak drawn up around his haggard face, the elder brother tread these illuminated pathways with heavy footsteps.
It had been a year since his brother’s banishment. Six months he had spent in mourning, not just for the brother lost to a path of darkness, but for his beloved Sultan, whose absence was a wound on his soul. Six months to grapple with betrayal and loss and guilt.
Six months too long.
Now, he found himself in Valtisaan, the latest stop in a relentless search that had dragged him across kingdoms, chasing shadows and whispers of his brother’s fate.
As he walked, the city’s advanced marvels blurred into the background, his focus narrowing on the mission that consumed him. Valtisaan, for all its progress and beauty, was just another waypoint in his quest for either a reunion or for closure.
He had just turned a corner when an instinctual wariness halted him in his tracks. The hair on the back of his neck stood as his hand grasped the hilt of his sword. Three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows at the end of the pathway, their forms shrouded in darkness.
“You found me,” the elder brother said simply, his voice resigned as he subtly shifted his stance, a lifetime of training coming to the forefront. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action, while his eyes, sharp and calculating, assessed the potential threat. He stood tall and imposing, a silent challenge to those who dared approach him with ill intent.
The cloaked figures advanced slowly. The man in the center removed his hood, revealing the familiar face of his childhood friend, a companion from a life that seemed a world away. A fresh wound marred the left side of his face, a thin yet deep cut that ran from cheekbone to jaw.
“It’s time to return home,” his friend said, his voice carrying the weight of an order long delayed. “Your father has given you time to make your peace, but the kingdom needs you now. Your duties await.”
“And if I refuse?” the elder brother challenged, his words hanging in the air. His shoulders, though squared in defiance, slumped ever so slightly.
His friend offered a sad smile. “Apologies, brother. Then, we must insist.” As he spoke, the two figures beside him closed in.
A deep sigh escaped the elder brother as the fight drained from him. He had known this moment would come. His friend’s apology was a small comfort, a balm to the sting of being called back not as a son, but as a prince.
“It’s not your fault,” his friend reassured him, but the words felt hollow.
Duty called him back, not to the warmth of home, but to the cold embrace of responsibility.
A month quickly passed following a whirlwind of diplomatic and military maneuvers. The assassination of King Jorah sent shockwaves through the region, accusations flying as his heir ascended the throne and hastened the war efforts against Alzahra.
In response, Alzahra had been proactive, dispatching envoys to neutral kingdoms to clear its name from the assassination scandal and to seek additional support. The diplomatic efforts were critical, aiming to ensure that Alzahra was seen as the aggrieved party, unjustly accused and fighting for its sovereignty.
In the shadow of an escalating war, the palace’s atmosphere had grown tense, the air charged with constant worry for the future. Layna, bearing the dual burden of leader and sister, had faced one of her most challenging decisions yet. The safety of her sister, paramount in her mind, necessitated drastic measures.
Zarian was pivotal in arranging for Soraya’s safe passage to the Oasis. However, the decision was not met without resistance. Though the king and queen were readily persuaded to send the younger princess away under the guise of a royal stay, Soraya herself was much more difficult to convince.
She was reluctant to leave Alzahra and, more importantly, her sister. Soraya had expressed her concerns, grasping Layna’s hands tightly within her own. “How can I leave when you need me here?” The thought of being far away, possibly safe but helpless, tormented her.
“I need to know you’re safe,” Layna had insisted. “It’s the only way I can focus on the war efforts. And you can be with Almeer.” Eventually, Soraya reluctantly agreed.
Convincing Jamil, however, to ferry another individual to the Oasis proved to be a much more difficult challenge. Initially, he was furious with Zarian and vehemently refused outright. The weight of his previous assistance bore down on him, making a similar task seem daunting. The two had almost come to blows.
In the end, Zarian penned a letter to his father for intervention. Fortunately, by some miracle, King Tahriq was swayed by his son’s words and allowed Jamil to bring Soraya to the Oasis.
Their farewell was marked with tight, tearful hugs and unspoken words. As Jamil led Soraya away, Zarian stood by Layna’s side as she watched, eyes shining with tears.