ZARA:
The courtyard was filled with activities, warriors practiced fighting with each other, their growls and sweats filled the air, while a group of young warriors exercised while watching the spar. Medics and healers move among them, carrying bandages, and barking orders when someone is injured or admits defeat. It should have felt normal, but it didn't.
Because at the center of it all… was her.
Jasmine.
Her gown was silk, pale cream with golden thread that shimmered in the light, every step deliberate as if she walked on sacred ground. She didn’t belong here among dust, sweat, and bruises, but the crowd parted for her anyway. She carried herself like she was already crowned Luna, her chin high, her painted smile flawless. If only murder wasn't a crime.
My stomach tightened.
The
