CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“ W e have successfully executed a strike against Zephyria’s forward base,” King Khahleel announced. “The operation disrupted their supply lines and inflicted significant damage.”

“Our scouts report confusion in their ranks,” Lord Varin added. “It’s a temporary setback, but we must press our advantage.”

“What measures are we taking to prepare for their counterattack?” Layna asked.

“We’re sending more soldiers to the border and deploying additional scouts,” Lord Varin replied.

Zarian stood next. “The Oasis is mobilizing a force of 10,000 men. They will join the Alzahran army.” A murmur of approval swept through the chamber.

“It’s quite noble of your kingdom to assist us, Prince Zarian,” Burhani said loudly. “Especially with no formal alliance between Alzahra and the Oasis.” Layna tensed at the thinly veiled jibe.

Zarian thanked Burhani and shifted the discussion toward palace security, a matter that had become alarmingly pertinent. The prince had been working closely with the palace guards to fortify the palace.

“We’ve enhanced surveillance around the perimeter and installed hidden sentries at strategic points,” Zarian explained. “We’ve also conducted drills to prepare for a siege. My goal is to ensure the guards are prepared for any scenario.”

Layna listened, reluctantly impressed by Zarian’s thoroughness, but troubled by the necessity of such measures.

As the meeting adjourned, her father placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing well, Layna,” he murmured with a soft smile.

Later that evening, Layna was studying various maps in her chambers when the door suddenly swung open. Soraya burst in, tears streaming down her face.

“Soraya, what happened?” Layna exclaimed, moving to console her sister.

Through loud sobs, Soraya’s words came out in a rush. “The palace guards…they’ve arrested Almeer! They think he’s a spy, Layna! The minister of trade found it strange that he stayed behind after the trade talks halted. They’ve thrown him into the dungeon! He’s been there since morning!” As Soraya finished, fresh tears began flowing anew in a torrent of distress.

Layna’s eyes widened before she quickly composed herself. She pulled Soraya into a protective embrace, gently rubbing her back.

“Don’t worry,” Layna consoled. “I’ll handle this. Stay in your chambers. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

With a reassuring squeeze to Soraya’s shoulder, Layna left her room. She needed to act quickly and discreetly.

The fate of an innocent man and her sister’s happiness depended on it.

In the quiet of his quarters, Zarian sat alone. His mind methodically revisited the new safety measures around the palace.

Then, as it often did, his mind wandered to Layna. His chest ached as he thought of her. She could barely stand to look at him, let alone speak to him.

A sharp rapping on his door jolted him out of his thoughts. His body tensed as his head snapped toward the sound, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He opened the door slowly. His eyes widened in surprise.

It was Layna.

“May I come in?” she whispered urgently.

Zarian stepped aside, quickly scanning the corridor before quietly closing the door behind her.

Inside, Layna anxiously paced the room, wringing her hands together. “May I sit?” she finally asked, gesturing toward his bed.

“Of course,” he replied, watching her closely as she sat down. She had not spoken to him in weeks. What brought her to his chambers at this late hour?

As she settled onto his bed, Zarian lost control of his thoughts. He should have thrown himself at her feet, begging once more for her forgiveness, but the sight of her here, in his private space, was intoxicating, igniting something primal within him.

He yearned to bridge the gap between them, to lay her back gently on his bed and express his feelings in a way words never could. He imagined capturing her lips with his, feeling the softness of her body pressed against his own, losing themselves in a moment of passion.

But his daydream was abruptly cut short as Layna cleared her throat, tethering him back to reality. Guilt washed over him for letting his mind wander, especially when she was so clearly distressed.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s Soraya,” Layna said, her voice strained. “She’s in a secret relationship with someone—a Zephyrian diplomat. The palace guards suspect him of being a spy and arrested him this morning.”

“I see,” Zarian said slowly. “That’s quite the predicament.”

“I can’t intervene directly,” she continued. “It would cause a scandal, perhaps political uproar. Jorah may even retaliate against Almeer’s family. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“I’m glad you came to me,” Zarian said gently. He cautiously added, “Do you think Almeer might actually be a spy?”

“The thought crossed my mind. But after meeting him…I don’t think so. He seems genuinely in love with Soraya.”

Zarian considered her words. “Let me think about how to handle this. We can’t compromise the palace’s security or cause unnecessary panic.”

Layna nodded, a tentative smile gracing her lips. “Thank you, Zarian.”

In the dead of night, Zarian slipped silently through the palace corridors toward the dungeon. He wore a dark, close-fitting tunic and trousers, blending seamlessly with the shadows.

A few corridors away, he carefully positioned a small sack filled with marbles. Hidden in an alcove, he waited for the right moment, then tossed a stone to knock over the sack. The marbles scattered loudly across the stone floor, rolling in every direction.

The guards, startled by the sudden clatter, left their posts to investigate the commotion.

Zarian seized the opportunity.

He found a disheveled and weary Almeer in a dimly lit cell. The young nobleman looked up in surprise as Zarian approached.

“Don’t panic. I’m a friend of Soraya’s,” Zarian whispered, observing Almeer’s tense shoulders and fearful gaze.

Almeer’s eyes widened, a spark of hope flickering within them. Zarian quickly set to work on the lock, his skilled fingers manipulating the pins with a long needle. With a soft click, the lock yielded, and the cell door swung open.

Quietly, they crept out of the dungeon, Zarian leading Almeer through a labyrinth of corridors. They eventually reached a side entrance that emerged into a secluded part of the gardens, where the darkness of night offered cover.

Zarian spotted Jamil, Layna, and Soraya waiting in the shadows, anxiety and apprehension written on their faces. As Zarian and Almeer approached, Soraya rushed forward and embraced Almeer tightly.

With stiff shoulders, Zarian took measured steps toward Jamil. His friend’s boyishly handsome face was a picture of fury—brows drawn together tightly, lips pressed into a thin, hard line, jaw firmly clenched. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his narrowed eyes fixed a cold, penetrating glare on Zarian.

Layna watched the two Medjai from a distance. Jamil stood stiffly. His angrily whispered words carried an edge of accusation, a tension that clashed with Zarian’s calm demeanor. He repeatedly jabbed a finger into Zarian’s chest, growing more forceful with each word.

Zarian met Jamil’s anger with a measured calmness. He reached out slowly, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Jamil paused, his expression softening slightly, and after a deep breath, he gave a reluctant nod.

Turning away from Jamil with one final word, Zarian approached Layna.

“We don’t have much time before the guards change shifts. Jamil will escort Almeer to the Oasis,” he told her, his voice low and deep in the night. “The Medjai will protect him and ensure he isn’t a spy. It’s the safest place for him right now, far from both Alzahra and Zephyria.”

Layna nodded, her eyes on Soraya and Almeer, who stood, hands entwined, sharing a sorrowful goodbye.

Zarian followed her gaze. “After the war, maybe they’ll be reunited.”

Layna turned to Zarian, her hands finding his. He looked down at their joined hands. Layna couldn’t quite decipher the emotion that passed through his eyes, but it looked something like disbelief.

He squeezed her hands gently, as though needing the touch to convince himself she was truly there.

“Thank you,” Layna said. “I know this wasn’t easy for you, choosing between your duty and helping me. I’m eternally grateful, more than I can express.”

Zarian’s eyes darkened as he looked down at her.

“I no longer feel conflicted, Layna,” he confessed, his deep voice washing over her. “I am yours.” He glanced at Soraya and Almeer, then back at Layna, his eyes filled with meaning. “The rest is for you to decide, Princess.”

Before Layna could respond, Zarian signaled to Jamil, a subtle nod indicating it was time for them to head out.

Layna walked Soraya back to her chambers. After tucking her in, she nestled beside her sister in the large bed. With gentle, soothing motions, she rubbed Soraya’s back, whispering words of comfort until soft sniffles melted into the steady breaths of sleep.

Yet, sleep refused to claim Layna.

Her thoughts wandered to Zarian. He had risked everything—his standing with the Medjai, his duty, even his trust with Jamil. Zarian had chosen her , placing her sister’s happiness above the rigid codes that governed his life. The magnitude of his decision weighed heavily on her.

Hours passed by as Layna stared at the shadow-dance on the ceiling cast by the moonlight. The quiet of the night offered no comfort, her mind a whirlpool of thoughts about duty, love, and the uncertain future that awaited them all.

Zarian’s words echoed in her heart. I am yours .

Eventually, exhaustion overcame her, pulling her into a restless slumber. But Zarian found her even in her dreams—his bright hazel eyes, the gentleness of his touch, the silky softness of his unruly hair.

I am yours . I am yours. I am yours.