Page 68 of The Moon's Daughter
In the weeks past, Layna was also increasingly plagued by nightmares. Sleep became a battleground for her fears. Her dreams, vivid and chilling, left her terrified in the dead of night, her skin slick with sweat and her heart racing with unnamed dread.
The eclipse loomed large in her mind. What transformation awaited her? Would it exact a cost she wasn’t prepared to pay? Layna spent countless hours in the no-longer-secret library sorting through ancient texts and scrolls. The uncertainty of her fate filled her with dread, a fear that she dared not voice, even to Zarian.
The past few weeks had brought Layna closer and closer to him, their relationship blossoming amidst the chaos that surrounded them.
With Soraya’s departure to the Oasis, Layna found herself leaning on Zarian more than ever. He had become her solace. Their relationship, which had begun under the most trying circumstances, had flourished like a resilient desert bloom. The stolen moments they shared became the highlights of Layna’s days.
Though the couple attempted to be discreet, Layna couldn’t ignore the whispers among the courtiers and the knowing looks from some of the palace staff.
Yet, surprisingly, her parents remained silent on the matter. She had braced herself for a reprimand, or at the very least, a conversation.
But that conversation never came. Layna was grateful for their unspoken approval, or at least their willingness to look the other way.
Before Soraya’s departure to the Oasis, she had cheekily gifted Layna asilpharoonplant, widely used throughout the continent for its contraceptive properties, a gesture that left Layna both grateful and red-faced.
However, while Layna and Zarian had enjoyed plenty of intimate moments, her Medjai prince still seemed reluctant to cross certain boundaries. If he had noticed the new plant in her chambers or knew of its purpose, Zarian made no mention of it. And so, the bittersweet anticipation of fulfillment left Layna in a perpetual state of frustration and confusion.
Layna dwelled on these thoughts as she made her way to the training grounds where Zarian conducted daily drills for the palace guards. His duties had kept him occupied for the past few days, and Layna’s heart ached to see him.
At the edge of the training grounds, the sounds of metal clashing against metal rang out, along with shouts of exertion and the occasional cheer or groan of mock defeat. It was here, among the palace’s defenders, that Zarian had found his second home.
His presence was unmistakable, his skill and command drawing the eye of every onlooker. Clad in a lightweight tunic and loose trousers, he was a warrior in his element. A teal bandana was nestled snugly against his neck, a splash of color against a sea of blacks and browns and tans.
His muscular body, sculpted from decades of training, moved with a feline grace. The light sheen of sweat on his skin caught the sunlight, highlighting the contours of his muscles.
His focus was absolute, his sword an extension of his arm, up until the moment he caught sight of Layna in his periphery and turned his head to look at her.
The momentary distraction was enough for his opponent to land a superficial cut on his arm, causing a thin line of blood to flow from the shallow wound. The sparring session halted abruptly, and Layna, unable to conceal her concern, called out to him.
“Prince Zarian,” she called, her voice carrying a formal note as she motioned him toward her. Mindful of the onlookers, she added, “Please, allow me to attend to your wound. It’s crucial you remain in peak condition to continue training the guards.”
Zarian sauntered over, brushing off her worries with his usual charming grin. “It’s merely a scratch,” he assured her, his smile wide. Layna noted the shadow of fatigue beneath his eyes, and her fingers itched to gently trace along his face.
She quickly fetched the medical kit from a nearby supply bench. With practiced care, Layna delicately cleansed the cut and wrapped a bandage around his muscular bicep.
While her gaze remained intently on his arm, her voice carried a soft, inviting undertone as she quietly asked, “Will you visit me tonight?”
Zarian kept his gaze fixed on Layna’s face. “The entire Zephyrian army couldn’t keep me away,” he murmured, his deep voice laden with promise. He flexed his bicep as her fingers worked over him, drawing a smile Layna struggled to conceal.
“Ensure that it doesn’t,” she quipped lightly, looking up at him coyly.
She felt the eyes of the guards on them, but couldn’t bring herself to care.
After Layna treated his wound, Zarian returned to training. Swords clashed and feet shuffled in the dance of mock combat, but his focus was not quite as sharp.
He parried and lunged with skill, but his reactions were slower, his mind replaying Layna’s touch as she bandaged his arm. The warmth of her hands lingered on his skin, her coy smile sending a shiver through him.
They’d been apart for too long.
A light jest from one of the guards shook Zarian out from his thoughts, a reminder that the men were all too aware of his rare lapse in concentration. Zarian managed a small, distracted smile before refocusing.
After training concluded, Zarian reflected on the past few weeks as he went about his day. His connection with Layna had deepened, transforming into something indispensable. Each moment with her was a reprieve from the relentless pressure of his responsibilities. In Layna, he had found both a partner and a source of strength.
Soraya’s departure to the Oasis marked a significant moment for them both. For Zarian, it tested his commitment to Layna’s happiness, going as far as to involve his father to ensure Soraya’s safety. Writing to the king, persuading him to safeguard Soraya, was a difficult decision. As expected, it drew sharp criticism from both King Tahriq and Jamil. But miraculously, his father had agreed.
The gratitude in Layna’s eyes and the warmth of her embrace made all dissenting voices fade away. Her safety and happiness were paramount, even if it meant disappointing his father.
In recent weeks, their relationship had grown both emotionally and physically. This growing closeness, their intimate kisses, challenged Zarian’s self-control, as he struggled to balance their blossoming bond and the restraint required to honor certain boundaries. He knew Layna was ready, eager even, to consummate their relationship, but he still held himself back.