Page 98 of The Moon's Daughter
In the wake of the eclipse’s world-altering events, Lord Ebrahim and Hadiyah focused on diplomacy, acting swiftly to shape the narrative of Alzahra’s trial. Emissaries were dispatched across the continent to request support.
Amidst these efforts, another goal emerged—planning Layna’s coronation. The palace buzzed with activity to solidify her position as the new monarch. Every detail was scrutinized, from the intricate designs of her gown to the flawless orchestration of the event. The security measures were meticulously planned. The decorations, the ceremonial crown, the positioning of the royal family—all were examined with careful precision.
Stories of the Moon Queen, as she had come to be known, spread like light through darkness, captivating and terrifying the continent in equal measure. Eyewitnesses in Alzahra City during the eclipse painted a picture of a deity among mortals, a woman shrouded in ethereal light who commanded the heavens.
These rumors of an awe-inspiring, fearsome figure had an unexpected benefit. Kingdoms near and far, intrigued and frightened by her alleged might, hastened to align themselves with Alzahra.
The palace’s official position was of vehement denial, dismissing the fantastical stories as mere rumors.
Still, in a show of solidarity—or perhaps in hopes of favor from the infamous Moon Queen—once-neutral kingdoms sent convoys laden with aid. Supplies and resources vital for Alzahra’s reconstruction poured in from kingdoms across the continent. Caravans arrived bearing food, medical supplies, construction materials, and skilled laborers. The palace, scarred by recent conflict, began to see signs of repair, mirrored by the recovery of villages that had suffered during Zephyria’s attack. The influx of grain, stone, and healing herbs revitalized the kingdom, breathing new life into its wounded heart.
Yet, amidst the awe and alliances, shadows crept at the edges. Whispers of witchcraft and dark pacts circulated. Accusations flew, brazen and fearful, suggesting such power could only come from forbidden knowledge. Some even accused the Moon Queen of consorting with demons to gain her powers.
These suspicions seeded doubt and fear, giving rise to factions within Alzahra itself. Voices, emboldened by suspicion and superstition, clamored for her to step down. They painted her as volatile, her presence a cause for unease.
A new faction arose, the Children of the Pure, and challenged Layna’s legitimacy not based on her lineage, but on the unfathomable source of her rumored powers. In the heart of Alzahra City, where unity should have been strongest, fractures appeared, casting splintering shadows over the kingdom’s future.
The very power that had saved them now posed a question none could easily answer:
Could they trust a queen touched by the moon?
And so, the council hastened to plan Layna’s coronation, hoping to quell the discord threatening to divide their society. The palace raced against time and dissent, hoping the ceremony would usher in a new era of stability.
In the aftermath of the eclipse, Layna and Zarian grappled with their new realities.
Layna mourned her father, deprived of the chance to say goodbye. His counsel, unwavering support, and the legacy he left behind now rested on her narrow shoulders. Every corner of the palace whispered memories of him. At times, she half expected to see him at breakfast or in the council chambers, before the brutal reality of his death slammed into her again.
Meanwhile, Zarian contended again with the loss of a sibling. Not the twisted man Azhar had become, but the brother he remembered from childhood—Zaarif, with his genuine smile and heart full of dreams. Zaarif, who once shared his laughter and hopes, before fate corrupted him into someone unrecognizable.
On the surface, things seemed normal, but an underlying tension, a formality of sorts, crept between them. This distance was caused, perhaps, by Layna’s lingering trauma and grief, or the looming pressure of her coronation, or possibly, the secret burden Zarian still harbored about his rebirth.
Weeks passed, until the awaited moment was upon them—Coronation Day. Tinga dressed Layna in Alzahra’s royal colors: an exquisite ceremonial burgundy gown, its long sleeves embellished with golden embroidery and gems. The bodice was tightly laced, and the skirt puffed out dramatically.
In her chambers, Layna stood quietly at her balcony, lost in thought. A soft knock at the door interrupted her reverie. She instinctively knew it was Zarian coming to check on her.
He entered, clad in a formal navy tunic. The sight coaxed a small smile onto her face, remembering the simpler, carefree times at the royal ball.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“You look breathtaking,” he marveled, his quiet strength wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “How do you feel?” His eyes searched hers intently, as they so often did now, looking for what she assumed was reassurance that she was still the woman he loved.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted quietly. “Today, of all days, I wish Baba were here. I know that doesn’t make sense. There would be no need for a coronation if he were still here.” She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. “But he would have known how to lead Alzahra through this.” A deep sigh escaped her, carrying the weight of her grief and uncertainty. “I don’t feel ready. How can I be the queen Alzahra needs when I feel so lost? I am a shadow of myself. And my people are afraid of me.” Her shoulders slumped inwards, eyes closing in weariness.
Zarian gently tilted her face, forcing her eyes to meet his. “The rumors will pass. And you’re stronger than you know. You have a kind heart and a wise soul—the very qualities that made your father a great king. Youareready for this. You will be an exceptional queen.” The deep timbre of his voice soothed the edges of her anxiety as it often did.
So much remained unspoken between them, a sea of words and feelings pushed aside by the whirlwind of tragedies. They had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone discuss their relationship amidst the demands of this new world.
For now, they found peace in the present, in the healing silence that enveloped them as they stood together.
For Layna, this moment of peace was enough, for now, to anchor her in the promise of their tomorrow.
She hoped it was enough for Zarian, too.
Layna inhaled deeply, steeling herself for the day ahead, and stepped out from her chambers with Zarian by her side. As they reached the main foyer, they were greeted by her mother, Soraya, Lord Ebrahim, and Burhani, each immaculately dressed in their ceremonial garments. Soraya enveloped her in a tight embrace, careful not to disturb Layna’s intricately braided bun.
Together, they exited the palace, flanked by palace guards. Layna’s gaze swept over their faces, not recognizing a single one. These were new recruits, handpicked and trained under Zarian’s careful scrutiny.
The group moved forward, stepping into the light of a day that would mark a new chapter for Alzahra. A large carriage awaited them in the courtyard. The ride to the city center was quick, the streets a blur of colors.