Lara was hard as fuck and very aware of it.
That was the first, stupidest thought in her head as Sarisa pushed gently at her shoulder and slipped out from under her.
The second was that she was about to die in the most humiliating way possible: half-undressed in the future queen's bedroom, one kiss away from dragging her onto the bed, while said future queen's mother stood on the other side of the door asking questions in that cold, surgical voice of hers.
Sarisa straightened her gown with quick, practiced hands, though her lips were swollen and her hair was a complete disaster. She shot Lara a look that was half warning, half apology, then raised her voice just enough.
"Yes, Mother? What is it?"
The queen did not answer immediately. Lara imagined her standing there, one hand resting on the polished cane she carried for appearances rather than need, face composed into that elegant mask that made lesser nobles faint and soldiers sweat.
"It is nearly time for the council meeting," the queen said at last. "And before that, I wished to speak with you. About your outing with Vaelen."
Of course.
Lara nearly laughed. It came out as a silent, pained exhale instead. Of course the queen wanted to discuss the date now, while Lara was still braced on Sarisa's bed like a criminal caught in the act.
She raked a hand through her hair and looked wildly around the room for somewhere to hide that wasn't insulting to her dignity.
There wasn't one.
Sarisa glanced back at her, taking in the state of her shirt, the open buttons, the heat still written all over her face. Lara mouthed, I can leave through the balcony.
Sarisa's eyes widened in horror. Apparently scaling down the side of the palace and dropping into the courtyard where half the guards would see was somehow less appealing than having Lara in the room while the queen spoke about Vaelen.
"Is there a problem?" the queen asked, voice sharper now.
"No," Sarisa said too quickly. She cleared her throat and lowered it into something more regal. "No, Mother. Just… give me a moment."
A pause.
Then, "You have one."
Lara stood there for exactly half a second before Sarisa crossed the room in three swift steps and shoved her toward the dressing screen in the corner.
It was a delicate folding thing painted with silver cranes, completely inadequate for concealing a six-foot demon with bruised knuckles and an erection she could have used as a murder weapon.
Lara caught Sarisa's wrist before she retreated. "This is ridiculous," she whispered, voice rough with frustration and lingering desire. "I'll just go."
"And she'll see you leaving my room like that?" Sarisa hissed back. "Absolutely not."
Lara's mouth twitched despite everything. "Like what?"
Sarisa's gaze flicked down, then immediately away, cheeks heating. "Do not make me answer that."
That almost did it. In any other circumstance Lara would have dragged her right back in for another kiss, queen be damned.
Instead she gritted her teeth, flattened herself behind the screen as best she could, and tried to think of dead fish, taxes, Raveth's face, anything other than the feel of Sarisa's mouth five seconds ago.
It barely helped.
Sarisa opened the door.
Lara couldn't see much through the narrow gap between the painted panels, only the edge of Sarisa's sleeve and the pale line of the doorframe, but the queen's voice flowed into the room like cold water.
"You took longer than necessary."
"I was resting," Sarisa said evenly. "You asked for a private word."
"I did." The queen stepped inside. Lara heard the soft click of the door closing. "I will not keep you long."
Lara held her breath.
The silence that followed was unbearable. She imagined the queen's eyes moving over the room, noting the unsettled covers, the crooked cushion on the bed, the faint smell of heat and skin still clinging to the air.
Lara had been in battlefields with less tension.
"And?" the queen asked. "How was your time with Vaelen?"
Sarisa was quiet for just a fraction too long. Lara felt it like a blade between the ribs.
"It was pleasant," Sarisa said.
Pleasant.
Lara looked at the ceiling and considered murdering everyone in the palace.
The queen hummed softly, unconvinced or perhaps simply dissatisfied. "Pleasant is not an answer. Did he treat you well?"
"Yes."
"Did he behave with appropriate respect?"
"Yes, Mother."
"And do you see now why this marriage is sensible?"
Lara's jaw tightened so hard it hurt.
Sarisa's voice did not change. "Vaelen is kind."
The queen let that settle. "Kindness matters. Stability matters. Passion is fleeting, Sarisa. You would do well to remember that. A husband should be dependable, not merely… exciting."
The word made Lara's fingers curl where they rested against the frame of the screen.
"You are not a girl anymore," the queen continued. "You are the future of this realm. Your choices cannot be guided by impulse."
There it was. Lara could hear the warning beneath the smoothness now, the shape of the accusation without the courage to name it. She wondered if the queen truly believed what she said or whether she was simply so committed to order that she'd mistaken fear for wisdom.
Sarisa answered carefully. "I understand."
"Do you?" the queen asked, suddenly softer. "Because I have spent years arranging a future that will protect you. Protect Aliyah. Protect this house. Vaelen offers that. Safety. Legitimacy. Continuity. Do not let sentiment cloud your judgment."
Lara had heard enough.
She shifted before she could stop herself. The screen gave the faintest creak.
Outside it, the room went still.
The queen's voice sharpened instantly. "What was that?"
Lara closed her eyes.
Sarisa did not miss a beat. "Probably the window. It's been sticking since spring."
The queen did not answer at once. Lara imagined her turning, assessing, that brilliant terrible mind putting pieces together with elegant cruelty.
Then, unexpectedly, the queen sighed.
"You look tired," she said. "Compose yourself before the meeting. The court is already restless after dinner yesterday. I will not have more gossip."
"I know."
A pause. Then the sound of gloved fingers briefly touching Sarisa's arm, almost gentle.
"This is for the best," the queen said quietly. "You will thank me one day."
Lara nearly barked a laugh at that, but somehow she bit it back.
Footsteps. The door opened.
Closed.
Silence.
For a long second Sarisa did not move. Then the lock turned with a sharp click and she leaned both hands against the door, head bowed, shoulders rigid.
Lara stepped out from behind the screen. "Well," she said, voice dry, "that was lovely."
Sarisa laughed once, but it was brittle. She turned, and Lara saw everything she'd been holding in place: the tension in her mouth, the anger in her eyes, the exhaustion.
"She wants to talk about my date with Vaelen while you're practically in my bed," Sarisa said. "I may actually lose my mind."
Lara crossed the room slowly, all heat banked into something steadier now. "Pleasant, huh?"
Sarisa shot her a look. "Do not start."
Lara stopped in front of her, close enough to touch but not yet touching. "I'm trying very hard to be mature."
"You're doing a terrible job."
"True."
Sarisa's gaze dropped, just for a second, to the front of Lara's trousers. Her expression changed, irritation cracking into something warmer, more helplessly amused.
"You're still—"
"Very aware," Lara muttered.
That finally got a real laugh out of her, soft and breathless. She stepped in, pressing her forehead to Lara's collarbone for one stolen second.
"We have a meeting," she said.
Lara looked down at her, one hand finally settling at her waist. "Yeah."
Sarisa's gaze dropped pointedly, then lifted back to her face with the faintest, most dangerous smile.
"Just give me five minutes to take care of your cock."