The sun had barely risen when the whispers began.
Zaria walked through the palace halls, her head held high, but she could feel the eyes on her—guards, servants, noblewomen peeking from behind golden curtains. She had done the unthinkable. She had defied her father, the king, in front of the entire kingdom.
Now, she was no longer just the princess of Zambura.
She was a threat.
As she entered the royal council chamber, she found her father already waiting for her. King Obade sat upon his gilded throne, his fingers tapping against the lion-shaped armrest. His advisors stood in a half-circle beside him, their expressions ranging from shock to barely concealed disapproval.
"You have shamed me, Zaria," the king said, his voice steady but cold. "In front of my people, in front of my warriors. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Zaria forced herself to remain calm. "I only did what was right."
King Obade's jaw tightened. "What was right? You acted without proof, without council, without thought for the consequences. You may believe yourself wise, but you are still just a girl."
The words stung, but Zaria didn't waver. "Then let me prove that I am more than that."
The king leaned forward, his dark eyes sharp. "And how do you plan to do that?"
Zaria took a breath. "Give me command over the royal guard. Let me investigate the real traitors within our walls."
The advisors gasped. Even her mother, Queen Nyasha, who stood silently at the side of the room, raised a delicate brow.
King Obade laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You expect me to hand you my army?"
"I expect you to trust me," Zaria replied, her voice steady. "Or at least trust that I would never let this kingdom fall."
The room fell into tense silence. The king studied her, searching for weakness.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.
"You will not command my royal guard," he said. "But if you are so eager to prove yourself, you will ride out with the warriors at dawn. A village near our borders has been raided by outsiders. Find out who is responsible."
Zaria's heart pounded. This was her chance.
"I accept," she said firmly.
The king's lips curled into something between amusement and warning. "Then may the gods be with you, my daughter. Because if you fail, there will be no second chances."
---
That night, as she prepared for the journey ahead, her mother came to her chamber.
"You played a dangerous game today," Queen Nyasha said, watching as Zaria fastened the leather straps of her armor.
"I did what I had to do," Zaria replied.
The queen stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Your father will not always be the one you have to fight. There are others—men in this palace, in the shadows—who will seek to destroy you before you even rise."
Zaria met her mother's gaze. "Then let them try."
Queen Nyasha studied her for a moment, then reached into the folds of her robe. She pulled out a curved dagger, its hilt encrusted with gold and rubies.
"This belonged to the first warrior queen of our bloodline," she said, pressing it into Zaria's hands. "She did not win her throne with kindness, but with blood."
Zaria ran her fingers over the blade. It was heavier than she expected.
"When the time comes," her mother continued, "you will have to decide what kind of queen you want to be. One who follows the rules of men… or one who makes them kneel."
Zaria tightened her grip on the dagger.
"I already know my answer."
---
At dawn, as the sun painted the sky in shades of fire, Zaria rode out from the palace gates with the warriors of Zambura.
Her first true test awaited.
And with it, the path that would decide her destiny.