CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I n 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 have never taken 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.”

As breakfast ended, the sisters planned their outing, their conversation filled with a lightness missing since the royal ball. For a few hours, they could escape the burdens of duty and politics and reconnect with the simplicity of their childhood.

Layna wore a lightweight navy tunic over her trousers, the breathable fabric ideal for the desert heat. At her waist, she fastened her sword. Soraya wore a vibrant orange tunic, as radiant as the fiery desert sun. She, too, strapped her sword to her side. Both sisters wore white turbans, ready to shield their faces from swirling sands.

Layna’s white mare, Qamar, stood quietly ready for the journey, awaiting her command, while Soraya’s steed, Sirocco, a spirited chestnut stallion, nickered impatiently, eager for the ride ahead.

Mounted on their horses, the sisters shared an excited glance. The air was warm on their skin as they led their horses through the busy streets, past the lively markets, until the city gradually gave way to the quiet outskirts, where the vast expanse of the desert unfolded before them in an endless sandy sea.

At the city’s edge, the guards recognized the princesses and offered respectful bows before quickly clearing the way through the checkpoint.

With subtle nudges, they urged their horses into a brisk gallop. The vast desert beckoned, an open canvas where they could shed the weight of royalty and taste the freedom beyond the palace.

Hooves kicked up clouds of sand as the horses effortlessly traversed the dunes. Layna felt a rush of exhilaration as Qamar responded to her cues, the mare’s pace quickening. The wind whipped through Layna’s hair, and she tilted her face to the sky, savoring the feeling of liberation, even if just for a moment.

Beside her, Soraya and Sirocco matched their pace, the stallion easily keeping up with Layna’s mare. Together, they crossed the desert, the endless dunes stretching out around them.

The ride was cathartic. The rhythm of her horse’s gallop freed her mind from the tangle of duty and desire. For these precious minutes, she was not a princess torn between love and obligation.

She was simply Layna, riding alongside her sister, embracing the beauty of her homeland.

As the horses slowed to a trot, Layna opened up to Soraya.

“We crossed a line,” she revealed, eyes focused on the horizon. “Zarian and I…it’s complicated. I feel so drawn to him, but so conflicted. I know I should uphold my responsibilities, but when I’m with him, I don’t remember anything else. I feel protected. It’s a relief from always having to be strong.”

“It’s okay to let yourself depend on someone, even as queen,” Soraya replied softly.

Layna sighed. “When I was in his arms, I felt precious.” Her gaze was distant, lost in the memory of their kiss. “With him, I can let down my guard and be myself. I don’t have to be the perfect princess.”

She paused, her brown eyes reflecting the desert sun. “But our duties bind us, Soraya. How can I think of my own happiness when Alzahra’s future rests on my shoulders? And with a war approaching?”

Soraya reached between their horses, taking Layna’s hand in a comforting grip. “Maybe it’s not about choosing between love and duty, but finding a way to balance both.”

Their conversation continued as they came upon a small oasis, a hidden gem amidst the dunes. It was a special place, one they often escaped to in their younger years. Modest in size, the oasis was a pocket of lush greenery, a secret haven that held many of their childhood memories.

The oasis was ringed by a small cluster of palm trees, their fronds whispering in the desert breeze. At its heart lay a tranquil pool, crystal clear, reflecting the azure sky above. Purple and yellow wildflowers dotted the greenery.

They dismounted, tying their horses to a tree, and stretched their legs.

“I know it’s been difficult, but I’m glad you’ve opened your heart again. After Nizam, I worried you might close yourself off completely,” Soraya said gently, looping her arm through her sister’s.

Layna exhaled slowly, eyes lingering on the horizon. “It wasn’t intentional. I tried to keep him at a distance, yet somehow, he found a way into my heart. Now, I can’t picture my life without him.”

Soraya smiled sympathetically. “Sometimes, the heart knows better than our minds. You can’t control who you fall for.” Then, the younger princess hesitated and gave Layna a sheepish smile. “Actually, I wasn’t entirely forthcoming about our picnic today.”

A few paces away, stepping into the clearing was Almeer.

Almeer’s features weren’t striking at first glance, but the more Layna looked at him, the more she saw his appeal. He stood slightly taller than her, with dark brown hair falling to his shoulders in loose waves. He was a slim man, the straight lines of his body accentuated by his typical Alzahran attire—a simple tunic and loose-fitting trousers. His skin was tanned, and his gray eyes, though darting nervously, held a genuine warmth.

Layna watched him closely as he hesitantly approached, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Your Majesty,” Almeer greeted. He reached out to shake her hand, then switched mid-motion and bowed deeply instead.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Almeer,” Layna welcomed with a wide smile. “Soraya speaks of you often. But please, call me Layna.”

They sat down, the soft breeze carrying the scent of desert wind around them. The picnic was simple—delicate sandwiches with roasted meats and crisp vegetables, along with savory pastries filled with spiced cheese and spinach. For dessert, there were buttery shortbread cookies dusted with sugar and a selection of ripe fruits, including dates, figs, and mirsham fruit.

Soraya led the conversation with her usual playful energy, teasing both Layna and Almeer about their various quirks—Layna’s competitiveness and Almeer’s picky eating—drawing laughter and groans in equal measure. In turn, Layna and Almeer joined forces, poking fun at Soraya’s own peculiarities.

Once Almeer seemed more comfortable, Layna donned the mantle of protective sister and asked about his family in Zephyria.

“I have a younger brother named Bashir. He’s quite the opposite of me—more adventurous and less inclined toward diplomacy,” Almeer shared with a chuckle. “We’re close, though. He has a knack for finding trouble, but his heart is always in the right place.”

Layna smiled and continued with her questions. “What was the diplomatic mission that brought you to Alzahra?”

“My delegation came to meet with Lord Farhan, the minister of trade, to discuss new routes. But as tensions between Zephyria and Alzahra escalated, our talks became strained, and eventually, there was nothing left to discuss.” Almeer paused, a pensive expression on his face. “My companions returned home, but I chose to extend my stay a bit longer.” He and Soraya shared a soft smile.

“It must be quite difficult to leave my sister,” Layna teased. “Where have you been staying?”

“At a small inn near the palace,” Almeer explained. “It’s modest but comfortable. And so far, the city guards have respected my diplomatic status, but I’m not sure how much longer that will last.”

Layna nodded thoughtfully. “And how did you and Soraya first meet?”

Almeer looked at Soraya. His eyes shone brightly with what could only be love. “It was in the palace gardens. Soraya was there, a vision of dedication among her plants. She’s incredible.” Soraya flushed at his praise.

As Layna observed them, a much-belated realization dawned upon her. Had Soraya always felt overlooked living in the shadow of a crown princess? Was that why she shied away from formal events where the spotlight was always, inevitably, shining on Layna?

Soraya had always been there for her, always understanding, never voicing any resentment at being eclipsed by Layna’s role as future queen. She had consistently been Layna’s pillar, offering unwavering support without a hint of envy.

But here, with Almeer, Soraya shone brightly, a rare gem, her own unique qualities appreciated and cherished.

“Eventually, I must return to Zephyria,” Almeer added, disappointment marring his features. “But I find myself delaying the journey. There’s something about Alzahra that makes it hard to leave.” He looked at Soraya with an affectionate smile.

Layna could clearly see the happiness radiating from her sister.

Here was a love that defied odds and expectations. A glimmer of hope bloomed in her chest, a thought that perhaps there was a way for her to balance the desires of her heart with the duties of her crown.

After enjoying their picnic, Layna and Soraya bid farewell to Almeer and rode back to the city. Nearing the busy city center, they decided to take a detour through the vibrant markets.

Stalls lined the streets, each one overflowing with goods ranging from exotic spices to handcrafted jewelry. The air was filled with the rich aromas of street food and the lively chatter of vendors and shoppers.

One section of the market was particularly renowned––the textile quarter. Here, the stalls were draped with fabrics, hallmarks of Alzahran craftsmanship. Silks shimmered in the fading sunlight, velvets in deep, luxurious colors piled high next to stacks of finely woven linens, their textures begging to be touched.

As they wandered, Soraya purchased a delicate scarf, its fabric light as air, dyed in shades of deep blue and sparkling silver reminiscent of Almeer’s homeland.

Layna, meanwhile, was captivated by a collection of colorful bandanas. One called out to her—it was a deep teal which she thought would complement Zarian’s hazel eyes. On a whim, she bought it.

The elderly shopkeeper was honored to have the princesses in her stall and initially refused their payment. Still, they pressed the coins into her wrinkled hands, leaving her with a grateful heart and a story to tell.

As they returned to the palace, the sisters basked in the warmth of the setting sun, hearts content with the simple pleasures of the day and the comfort of each other’s support.

As the first light of dawn crept through his curtains, Prince Zarian lay awake, the memory of his kiss with Layna vivid in his mind.

He chose to skip breakfast. Facing Layna in front of her family, with the memory of their kiss so fresh, seemed an impossible task. He feared his eyes would betray him, and his years of training to master his emotions would crumble under the weight of a single glance from her.

He’d rather face a pit of venomous cobras. Again.

His day was spent in a state of distraction, overseeing palace guards and holding meetings with security advisers, yet his thoughts constantly wandered back to Layna. For all he knew, he might have assigned every guard to the same post.

As the sun set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the thought of finally seeing Layna at their training session quickened his pulse.

Their situation was complex, but he could no longer deny his feelings. Whatever challenges lay ahead, his heart was firmly intertwined with hers. In her arms, Zarian felt a completeness he had never known.

He refused now to live without it.

But first, he had to meet with Jamil for a brief update. Changing into his training attire, Zarian set out, eager to conclude the meeting quickly so he could see Layna.

After returning to the palace, Layna expressed her gratitude to Soraya for the wonderful day. The respite had been much needed. With a lighter heart, she quickly dressed for her training session, securely tucking the teal bandana into her vest.

Heart thrumming with hope, she headed to the training grounds with a newfound optimism, eager to share Soraya and Almeer’s story with Zarian. Their love had kindled a flame of hope within her.

Maybe, just maybe, she and Zarian could carve out a path forward together.

However, she was disappointed to find the training grounds empty. Frowning, she scanned the area expecting to see him walking toward her. After several minutes of waiting, she grew concerned—he had never been late.

She headed to the nearby gardens in search of him, a labyrinth of beauty and tranquility. It seemed the perfect place to find a quiet moment with him and present her gift. Maybe he’ll kiss me again , she thought wistfully.

Moonlight bathed the gardens in a soft glow, casting fleeting shadows across the stone pathways as Layna traversed the winding paths. It was a humid night, strange for the season, and the air felt heavy on her skin.

She passed the rose trellises, hoping to glimpse Zarian’s familiar silhouette among the vines. Finding no sign of him, she continued her search, heart quickening with anticipation.

She paused by a fountain, the gentle splash of water offering a moment of peace, but not the man she sought.

Layna walked through the flowers a while longer until hushed voices from a secluded arbor caught her attention.

Frowning, she moved closer, recognizing one of the voices as Zarian’s. Concerned, she crept forward with the light, silent steps he had taught her and concealed herself behind a hedge. Her heart pounded as she strained to hear their conversation.

Zarian was speaking with a cloaked figure, their conversation laced with urgency. “The prophecy, Zarian! You must remember your purpose here.” The man jabbed a finger into Zarian’s chest. “Your involvement with the princess is dangerous. It clouds your judgment! It compromises the mission.”

Layna’s breath caught. The prophecy? Her mind raced with questions. Who was this shadowed man with Zarian?

Zarian responded in a hushed whisper, too low for Layna to hear.

“That doesn’t matter! Remember your training. The princess is the key. You were brought here to protect the Daughter of the Moon, not ravish her! You’re jeopardizing everything!” The cloaked man took a deep breath. “It’s good she trusts you, but maintain your distance. I must return to the Oasis—Saahil never made it back on his last trip. I’ll return when I can.”

A chill ran down Layna’s spine as she listened to the hushed conversation. The revelation struck her like a tempest— she was the subject of this mysterious prophecy?

Confusion and doubt swirled within her, mingling with a growing sense of betrayal. Why had Zarian never mentioned this? Who was this cloaked man? She had just begun to lower the walls around her heart, but now felt exposed and deceived.

Crouched in the shadows, disbelief, anger, and a clawing betrayal warred within her. She tried to piece together fragments of past conversations, whispers of a prophecy she had never understood.

But nothing had prepared her for this revelation.

Were the moments they shared—the intimate conversations, their passionate kiss, the quiet understanding—real, or just a part of his duty to some mission?

She had opened herself up to Zarian, shared her deepest hopes, believing in their genuine connection. Had he been manipulating her emotions for some prophetic agenda this entire time? Layna grappled with her feelings, torn between the man she thought she knew and the one ensnared in secret plots.

She quietly retreated from her hiding spot and trudged back to the training grounds. Flinging herself onto the dusty floor, she cradled her head in her hands, struggling to keep her tears at bay. How could she reconcile the man she felt so strongly for with the one shrouded in secretive discussions about her fate? How could he have held her, kissed her so intimately, while harboring such deep secrets?

To him, was she merely a mission?

A blistering anger began to burn inside her. She had been a fool to entertain the possibility of a future with him. The realization struck her with bitter clarity—she did not truly know who Zarian was.

Minutes later, Zarian arrived at the training grounds, his steps hurried. He saw Layna, her huddled figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

“Layna, what is it?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he drew closer.

She lifted her head, revealing the storm brewing in her eyes. The silence stretched between them like a chasm. Then, in a hoarse whisper, she said, “I heard your conversation in the garden.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations. The blood drained from Zarian’s face.

“Layna, please, let me explain,” he implored, stepping closer.

“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!” Layna snapped, her temper boiling over as she shot to her feet. “Was that your spy? The prophecy, the secrets, your duty…you’re a liar, Zarian. You pretended to care just to get close to me!”

Zarian’s pale face was a canvas of pain—remorse, despair, and an unexpected vulnerability.

“Layna, please,” he begged, his voice raw, barriers stripped away. “Yes, I came here because of the prophecy, to protect you, the ‘Daughter of the Moon.’ But I didn’t know how deeply you would affect me. My feelings for you are real, Layna, as real as anything I’ve ever felt.”

His words hung in the air between them, but she only gave him her silence.

“Layna, I never expected any of this to happen.” He inched closer, his hand outstretched as if approaching a wild, untamed mare.

“Expected what?” she raged, eyes blazing with fury. “To play with my heart while you hide behind your duty? How can I trust anything you say?”

“I understand why you’re upset,” Zarian pleaded, taking another step toward her. “But I swear on my honor, I care deeply for you. I would never betray you, Layna. Please, you must believe me.” He reached out, hoping to bridge the gap between them.

Layna recoiled. “Believe you? Never again. You’re just another prince with hidden agendas. Stay away from me!” She spun on her heel, leaving Zarian standing alone.

Returning to the palace, she rushed through the corridors. Her mind was a whirlwind of betrayal, confusion, and the painful sting of yet another wound to her heart. Her sister, she knew, would understand.

She found Soraya in her chambers. Soraya looked up, immediately noticing the agony etched on her sister’s face.

“Layna, what happened?”

Soraya’s voice broke through the tsunami of Layna’s thoughts, but the words felt distant, muffled by the overwhelming tide of emotions within her. Layna’s legs gave way, and she collapsed, a sob escaping her lips. The dam of composure she had so carefully constructed over the years burst.

Soraya was by her side in an instant, wrapping her arms around her sister. Layna clung to her as she sobbed uncontrollably, tears cascading down her cheeks. Soraya held her tightly, whispering words of comfort, her presence a steady anchor amidst Layna’s despair.

Gradually, the sobs subsided, replaced by a hollow emptiness. As Layna’s tears dried, Soraya gently helped her stand, leading her to the bed. There, she sat with Layna, a silent guardian in the quiet aftermath of her sister’s heartache.

“I overheard a conversation,” Layna began hoarsely. “Zarian and a stranger, talking about a prophecy—‘The Daughter of the Moon.’ They think I’m at the center of it, and that’s the real reason he’s here. I’m his mission. He’s been lying to me this entire time.”

“That sounds ominous. But Zarian—he doesn’t strike me as someone with bad intentions,” Soraya reasoned.

Layna took a deep breath, her emotions still raw. “I confronted him,” she confessed. “I accused him of betrayal, of using me. I said very harsh things.”

“I understand why you reacted that way, especially after Nizam. But Zarian has always seemed genuine. Maybe there’s more to this than we know.”

“How can I be sure?” Layna shook her head, frustration clear in her face. “He pretended to care about me to benefit himself.”

Soraya gently squeezed her sister’s hand. “I think you should focus on the prophecy first. That’ll help you understand your role in all this, and perhaps, also about Zarian’s purpose here.”

“But how can I ever trust him again?” Layna questioned, wiping away an errant tear.

“Take small steps.” Soraya gently squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “Learn about the prophecy, understand its implications, and maybe it’ll help you understand Zarian and his motivations.”

Layna pondered her sister’s words, the storm inside slowly settling into a cautious resolve.

“You’re right. I need to know why they think I’m this ‘Daughter of the Moon.’”

Soraya nodded, her expression serious. “And I’ll be here, every step of the way. We’ll figure this out together.”

“Lord Ebrahim once mentioned Medjai texts in the library,” Layna mused, her brow furrowing. “But I’ve never seen them. Have you?”

“No.” Soraya shook her head. “And I practically live there.”

The sisters exchanged a look. They knew what needed to be done.

“We should search the library,” Layna decided, a new determination lighting her eyes.

“Tomorrow,” Soraya added gently. “Tonight, we rest.”

Layna reluctantly agreed. As they talked into the night, she felt a sense of clarity emerging from the chaos of her thoughts.

She might not have all the answers, but she had a direction.