The moon had dipped low, leaving trails of silver over the palace walls, when Zaria returned to her chambers. Her heart still thrummed from the conversation with her mother, the words of Queen Mother Samira echoing in her mind: "I did not raise you to survive. I raised you to reign."
She undressed carefully, letting her emerald gown fall to the floor, and ran her fingers over the golden bangles still warm from the dance. Tonight had been a display of elegance and power, but the real challenges were far from over.
A soft knock at the door made her tense.
"Enter," she called, her voice steady.
It was her eldest brother, Malik. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a shadow of worry lining his sharp features. "The court is buzzing," he said. "Everyone is talking about you and the prince. Some praise your skill… others are already plotting."
Zaria let out a slow breath. "That is to be expected. If they do not speak, it means they are too afraid… or too weak."
"Or they wait for the right moment to strike," Malik added. "You cannot let them think your heart or mind can be swayed by flattery or foreign charm. Not now."
"I know," Zaria said, meeting his gaze. "I am not naïve. I fight not only with swords, but with my mind. And I will not falter."
Malik nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Good. The scouts report unusual movements at the northern border. Nothing confirmed, but the signs are troubling."
Zaria's jaw tightened. "Then we prepare. The warriors, the archers, the scouts—I want all of them ready at first light."
"And Rafael?" Malik asked quietly, lowering his voice. "He is here, yes, but we do not yet know his intentions fully."
Zaria's eyes narrowed. "I have learned to read people. And I have learned to wait. For now, we watch. We listen. And we act only when the time is right."
Malik placed a hand briefly on her shoulder. "You carry more than a crown, Zaria. You carry our people, our legacy. Be careful not to let the weight crush you… but also do not let it weaken you."
"I won't," she promised, voice firm.
The two siblings stood in silence, listening to the night. Somewhere beyond the palace walls, the wind rustled through the jungle, carrying whispers of movements, alliances, and battles yet to come. Zaria knew that with every passing hour, the world outside was preparing for war—and so must she.
She turned toward the window, her reflection shimmering against the glass. The moonlight kissed her golden bangles, casting shadows across her determined face.
Tomorrow, the kingdom would see the full measure of its queen-to-be. And Zaria would be ready.