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CHAPTER 439
~Zara's POV~
When I arrived, the throne room was quiet—it was the break of dawn. The only sounds were the distant crackling of torches and the rhythmic clicking of my boots against the obsidian floor.
I had woken early, too restless to sleep. My instincts screamed that today would not be easy, and I needed to be ready.
So I dressed in the only armor I had—black leather, fitted but flexible. My trousers were new, gifted by the fae attendants, and my old boots were sturdy enough to withstand anything.
A black tank top left my arms bare. My hair was secured in a high ponytail, out of my face. By the time Davion arrived, precisely one minute before our agreed time, I was already there.
He stilled in the doorway when he saw me, his violet eyes narrowing slightly. His gaze raked over my outfit, the assessment quick and efficient before his lips twitched.
"You're ready," he noted. "What time did you get here?"
"Six."
