Moonlight

A/N - This chapter has been heavily edited since I first uploaded.

Trigger warning - physical intimacy

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It started soft, tentative, as if asking permission. The taste of wine and sugar and salt on his lips sent Khaya's head spinning. His arm snaked around her waist, pressing their hips together and deepening the kiss.

It was like drowning in gold, like drinking fire, all-consuming to the point of forgetting how to breathe.

She could feel her headscarf coming undone, but she didn't care. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and she sighed, lips parting. Her hands clutched at his kaftan, pulling him into her.

Her breath was heavy, heart racing as he leaned down and kissed her pulse point. Something deep in her stomach knotted, and her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. He smiled against her neck, thrilled by the way she quivered beneath him.

Khaya's breath hitched when he began sucking the soft skin below her ear. A pulsing warmth bloomed between her legs, as if a flare had been ignited inside her.

When he pulled away they were both breathing hard, the air between them bubbling with heat and anticipation. Khaya's skin burned, itchy and uncomfortable against her garments. Rehan's half-lidded eyes drank in her dishevelled state; swollen lips and flushed cheeks and veil undone.

Beautiful.

She took a deep breath and tucked her hair behind her ears, avoiding his eye as she retied her headscarf.

"Do you want to go back to the harem?"

The question hung in the air between them. If she said yes, he would walk her back and kiss her goodnight just like before, and she would be left to her own devices until he wished to see her again.

"I would rather stay with you," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She knew what she was really saying yes to.

X

As soon as the doors closed behind them their mouths were on each other's, hot and feral and yearning. Khaya's fingers slipped under Rehan's collar, pressing against the soft skin of his neck. His strong arms wrapped around her back, crushing them together.

"Khaya," he breathed into her mouth.

The way her name sounded in his mouth intoxicated her, and heat began to pound low in her belly again.

In a swift movement Rehan picked Khaya up and gently laid her on the satin sheets. He watched her as she carefully removed her headscarf and let her hair tumble over her shoulders. Then slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted her qamis over her head.

Her chest was bound in a tight white cloth, rising with deep, deliberate breaths. And her eyes. He had never seen those eyes, dark and filled with latent desire. He watched the way the light touched her, softly caressing each curve and hollow like something out of a painting. It was taking everything he had not to pin her down and ravish her then and there.

Every fibre in him was burning for her, begging for her.

He leaned over her, pressed his mouth to the base of her throat and trailed kisses down from her neck to her collarbone, pulling soft whimpers and sighs from her lips. His fingers traced lines on her stomach absently, and the muscles there tightened in response.

Khaya's whole body ached, every inch of her pulsing and squirming and wanting. Her nails dug into his back over his shirt and he let out a low growl, grinding his hips into hers. He wanted to tear every piece of fabric between them to shreds.

Rehan lifted his head and brushed a lock of hair from her face, staring into her low-lidded eyes. Nothing but their heavy breathing pierced the silence of the room.

"Do you want me to continue?" he murmured.

Her throat bobbed with tension, and the earlier lust in her eyes became suddenly clouded with uncertainty. "I- I don't know."

"Okay," he said after a pause, and rose to sit on the bed. He straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his mussed hair, then carefully reclined himself beside her.

She curled into him, burying her face in his chest.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft, on the edge of breaking.

Rehan frowned as he gently ran his hand down her back. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Khayzuran."

He felt the stiffness in her body ease slightly as she nuzzled closer, and the scent of sweet almonds drifted up from her neck.

"I can promise you one thing, though," he whispered into her hair, "when the time comes, you will be begging me for it."

A blush seared Khaya's cheeks as she huffed a laugh into his chest. They lay like that for a long while until Rehan finally rose to snuff out the candles and pull the sheets over them.

Khaya's eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly parted, breaths low and shallow as Rehan combed his fingers through her hair.

Her sleep was dreamless.

X

The night air stood motionless and bone cold against the radiating heat of the palace. The horses rubbed up against each other in their stables, the night watchmen shivered and grew restless at their posts, and high up in the Prince's chambers, the curtains shifted.

Khaya grew restless, pulling the sheets closer and tucking her body into itself, but the chill curling around her spine did not relent.

She blinked her eyes open to see Rehan's back facing her. The pale moonlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the ridges and dips of his muscles as he breathed. She scooted closer to his body to share his warmth, and closed her eyes again.

A whisper floated through the room and settled on her skin, and her eyes snapped open. She tilted her head up slowly to scan the room, but nothing suspicious caught her eye. Carefully, she drew herself up, keeping the sheets pressed to her chest.

"Who's there?" she hissed.

She did not sound as threatening as she thought.

For a long moment there was silence, interrupted only by Rehan's shallow breaths. Khaya let out a sigh, and the sound echoed.

Dust and smoke began to rise from the ground in swirls. The rational part of Khaya's brain screamed fire, but her heart knew it was something more sinister.

The smoke grew into a cloud, white as milk against the moonlight, and Khaya's blood froze in her veins. A face pushed through the cloud, followed by a pair of shoulders and a torso, and all too soon there was a man standing in the Prince's chambers, a step away from his bed.

The smoke reflected the moonlight, casting a glow around him. His skin was pale as ash, unlike anything Khaya had ever seen, and his hair was wrapped in a loose turban, nose and mouth covered by the same cloth. His gaze cut through the room like tempered steel.

Khaya's mouth was dry when she swallowed. She thought of shouting for the guards, but he was close enough that they would be too late.

The man's gaze shifted to the sleeping Prince for a moment, and her hand moved of its own accord to shield him – not that it would do much against the intruder. He was dressed in garments fit for hunting, though there were no weapons on him that she could see.

"Who are you? What do you want?" She kept her voice even despite her nerves.

The man tilted his head. "So... you are the one who managed to kill my serpents."

"What?" Thoughts circled in Khaya's mind, and her eyes widened in realisation. "The smoke, the cold... You were there, in the desert."

He blinked slowly. "Yes."

Tendrils of smoke began to shift and swirl around him, obscuring his body and face until he was barely visible. His last words cut through the thick haze before he disappeared entirely.

"Remember, little serpent, your power comes at a price."

The room was silent.

Khaya held her breath for a long moment before letting herself collapse back onto the bed. She touched her forehead, now damp with sweat.

Was I dreaming?!

She looked over at the Prince, still fast asleep, and touched his back. His skin was cold, but she did not move her hand. She stayed like that, keeping herself awake by force of will alone, until the small hours of the morning.

The sky began to lighten, and finally, she let sleep take her.

X

The sun was already high in the sky when Khaya returned to her chambers, escorted by Meia. The Prince had left for his duties, and was long gone by the time she had risen. Her heart jumped at the thought of seeing him again after last night. She did not know if she would be able to look him in the eye.

After breaking her fast she went out to the balcony for a breath of air, brows creased in deep thought.

There were only a few days till the deadline and she had to act fast if she wanted Ibn Fakrid's information, but the image of the man last night haunted her and filled her with unease.

He was probably responsible for the attack on the caravan, but who would believe her if she spun stories about a man appearing out of thin air in the Prince's chambers? More unnerving than that was that he knew of her.

Little serpent.

The name echoed in her head like a war drum. Khaya closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, then went back inside. She spent the rest of the afternoon poring over Parviz's lessons and taking meticulous notes from the books he had prescribed. When dusk came, she set down her quill and summoned Meia to escort her to the hammam.

It was full of girls washing the sweat and sun from the day and preparing for prayer. A small group of them waved to Khaya when she entered the main baths. She would not have called them her friends, but she knew each girl by name and their favourite things to do to pass the time, and that was enough. She disrobed and went to join them in the cool water.

"Khayzuran sahiba, we have not seen you in days!" Said Mariam, a bronze skinned girl with a singing voice as sweet as honey. She was busy pouring water on another girl's back.

"I've been busy visiting the gardens and taking lessons with a Qadi."

The girls nodded in understanding. Zainab, a plump belly dancer, rubbed lavender soap onto Khaya's back with strong, soothing strokes.

"So, how is it going with our Prince?" she asked.

At the mention of him something fell over the girls, and they turned to her with eagerness and excitement.

Khaya chuckled at their wide eyed faces. "It's going well. He's very different to what I thought."

"How so?" Mariam asked.

"He's very... normal, I guess. I think I expected him to be haughty and rude."

Many of the girls threw their heads back in laughter.

"The royal family is surprisingly easy going," Noor said. Her hair was a deep, beautiful red, stained by the henna she frequently massaged into her head. "It's the Barmakis who are uptight," she continued.

The girls nodded and began muttering between themselves.

Khaya squeezed the water out of her hair. "Speaking of them, do any of you know Yahya al-Barmaki's wife?"

"Oh, Atishi? Isn't she from the subcontinent?" Zainab quipped.

"Yes, she is," Noor said. "She's quite odd in my opinion. Her hands are always covered in mud."

Another girl chimed, "I visited her garden on an errand once, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She breeds all kinds of exotic things!"

Khaya's attention turned to her. "She has a garden? Where?"

"Inside the Barmaki's wing of the palace."

Khaya bit her lip. This could be what she was looking for, but there was only one way to find out.

"Why are you so curious about her?" Noor asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

Khaya shrugged but said nothing. The girls did not question her further, instead moving to other topics like the new silk imports and successful matches made at the party last night. After drying off and rubbing their bodies with jasmine oil they bade each other goodbye, and Khaya returned to her chambers with Meia.

After finishing her prayers, she fell into bed with a sigh.

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.

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