They decided everything would be dealt with tomorrow morning.
That sentence sounded sensible when Elysia said it.
It sounded less sensible inside Sarisa's head, where tomorrow had already become a beast with too many teeth.
Still, dinner happened.
Somehow.
Food was placed on plates. People spoke in softer voices than usual.
Malvoria made two jokes too sharp for anyone to fully laugh at, Raveth muttered something about wanting to make arrests "with style," and Veylira drank tea as if she had not personally dismantled half of a queen's future that week.
The children had been sent to bed earlier, after a long round of hugs from Sarisa and Lara, plus Aliyah's suspicious little order that nobody was allowed to "do dangerous adult things" without telling her first.
By the time Lara and Sarisa reached their room, the castle had gone quiet.
Not peaceful.
Quiet.
There was a difference.
Sarisa knew it because her mind refused to settle. The room was beautiful, all dark velvet, warm lamps, and heavy curtains drawn against the night, but she barely saw it.
She crossed to the bed, then to the window, then back again. Her fingers brushed the mating mark on her throat without her noticing. Her thoughts moved too quickly to catch.
Tomorrow, she would be acting sovereign.
Tomorrow, arrests would begin.
Tomorrow, the Celestian realm would wake to the knowledge that its queen was in a demon dungeon and its princess had chained her there.
Tomorrow, her mother would still be her mother and still be a criminal.
Sarisa pressed a hand to her stomach, suddenly nauseous.
Behind her, Lara shut the door.
Quietly.
That, more than anything, made Sarisa realize she had been pacing.
"Love," Lara said.
Sarisa turned. "I'm fine."
Lara's face said she had never heard a worse lie in her life.
Sarisa sighed. "Fine. I am not fine. But I am standing."
"That is a very low standard."
"It is the one available."
Lara crossed the room slowly, not crowding her, not rushing. She had changed after dinner into loose black trousers and a soft shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows.
Her hair was tied back badly, as usual, and there was something about the familiar carelessness of it that made Sarisa's chest ache.
Lara stopped in front of her and took both her hands.
Sarisa looked down at their joined fingers.
"You're shaking," Lara said.
"I am furious."
"You can be furious and shaking."
"I dislike that."
"I know."
Sarisa tried to pull one hand free to resume pacing, but Lara caught it gently.
"No."
Sarisa lifted her eyes. "No?"
"No more walking holes into Malvoria's floor." Lara's mouth curved faintly. "She will make us pay for renovations."
"This is not funny."
"No," Lara agreed, softer now. "It isn't."
The humor vanished.
Sarisa hated how easily Lara could strip her defenses down with a shift of voice. With anyone else, she could have stayed sharp. With Lara, the cracks showed too quickly.
Lara brushed her thumb over Sarisa's knuckles. "Let me give you a bath."
Sarisa blinked.
"And a massage," Lara added.
The words landed warm in the tense air.
Sarisa narrowed her eyes slightly, more out of instinct than suspicion. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is."
"Lara."
"What? You're too stressed to sleep." Lara leaned closer, voice dropping into something rougher, warmer. "Let me take care of you."
The simple sincerity almost undid her.
Sarisa looked away first. "If you make this too distracting, I'll blame you tomorrow."
"I accept all diplomatic consequences."
"That is not how diplomacy works."
"That is how mine works."
Despite herself, Sarisa smiled.
Lara saw it and looked absurdly victorious.
The bath was prepared in the adjoining chamber, a wide black-stone tub sunken slightly into the floor, with golden heat-runes glowing along its edge.
Lara filled it herself, refusing to call servants. Steam rose quickly, carrying the scent of cedar oil, night-blooming flowers, and something faintly sweet that made Sarisa's shoulders loosen before she even stepped in.
"Where did you get this oil?" Sarisa asked.
"Malvoria's private cabinet."
Sarisa turned her head sharply. "You stole from your sister?"
"Borrowed."
"Did you ask?"
"No."
"Then it is theft."
"It's family."
"That is not a legal category."
"It is in the demon realm."
Sarisa laughed quietly, the sound fragile but real.
Lara smiled and came behind her, fingers finding the clasps of Sarisa's robe. "May I?"
Sarisa nodded.
The robe slid from her shoulders with a soft whisper. Lara did not rush. She never rushed when it mattered. Her hands skimmed Sarisa's arms, warm and steady, and when Sarisa stepped into the bath, the water closed around her like a sigh.
She sank down to her shoulders.
For a moment, her eyes closed without permission.
"There," Lara murmured.
Sarisa exhaled. "Gods."
"Good?"
"Too good. I may forgive your terrible ideas."
"I have excellent ideas."
"You kidnapped me from a wedding."
"And look how well that turned out."
Sarisa opened one eye. "Do not sound smug."
"I am extremely smug."
Lara sat behind the tub and gathered Sarisa's hair carefully over one shoulder. Then her hands settled on Sarisa's neck.
The first press of Lara's thumbs made Sarisa's breath catch.
Not from pain exactly, but from the sudden discovery of how much tension her body had been holding.
Lara worked slowly at the base of her skull, then down along the cords of her neck, pressing firm circles into the places where fear had made knots. Sarisa tried to keep still. Failed. A quiet, helpless sound escaped her.
Lara's voice warmed. "That bad?"
"Do not be pleased."
"I am not pleased. I am focused."
"You sound pleased."
"I like knowing where you need me."
That sentence slid under Sarisa's skin more deeply than the touch.
Lara's hands moved lower, over her shoulders, thumbs working beneath the waterline, then along the muscles beside her spine. She knew what she was doing.
Of course she did. Lara had hands made for violence and care, which seemed unfairly effective in combination. Every touch was deliberate.
Every pressure exact. Sarisa's body began surrendering inch by inch, her breathing growing slower, her thoughts less jagged.
The room blurred at the edges.
Steam. Warm stone. Lara's hands. The faint hum of the mating bond between them.
When Lara leaned forward and kissed the back of Sarisa's shoulder, Sarisa shivered.
"Cold?" Lara asked, though the amusement in her voice said she knew perfectly well.
"No."
"Good."
Another kiss, higher this time. Near the curve of her neck. Close to the mating mark, but not quite touching it.
Sarisa's fingers curled over the edge of the tub. "You are distracting me."
"That was the plan."
"I knew it."
"You're welcome."
Lara's mouth brushed the mark then, barely more than warmth and breath.
The bond pulsed.
Sarisa's eyes closed.
For one suspended second, there was no tomorrow. No throne. No arrests. No mother in a dungeon.
Only Lara behind her, steady and warm, kissing the proof of their bond as if it were sacred.
"Tonight," Lara said softly against her skin, "you don't have to be queen."
Sarisa swallowed.
"You don't have to solve the realm," Lara continued. "You don't have to decide everything. You don't have to be calm for everyone else."
Sarisa's throat tightened. "Then what am I supposed to be?"
Lara's hands slid down to rest around her shoulders, holding her gently. "Mine. Tired. Loved. Safe."
The words hit too hard.
Sarisa bent her head, and the tears came before she could stop them. Silent at first, then not.
She hated it, hated how quickly the day had found a way out of her, but Lara did not make a sound of surprise.
She only wrapped her arms around Sarisa from behind and held her while the warm water hid what it could.
"I'm scared," Sarisa whispered.
"I know."
"I don't want to fail."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"I know you."
That broke her again, but softer this time.
Lara held her until the worst of it passed. Then she took a cloth, washed Sarisa's shoulders with careful hands, kissed her damp hair, and massaged her again until Sarisa's body became heavy with exhaustion instead of panic.
When the water began to cool, Lara helped her out and wrapped her in a thick towel, then another robe.
She dried Sarisa's hair with surprising patience, combing through it slowly while Sarisa sat on the edge of the bed, quiet and drowsy.
"You are very good at this," Sarisa murmured.
"At what?"
"Taking me apart without breaking me."
Lara paused.
Then she bent and kissed the top of Sarisa's head. "That is the only way I ever want to take you apart."
Sarisa turned, caught her face between both hands, and kissed her.
It was slow at first. Then warmer. Deeper. Lara made a low sound, one hand settling at Sarisa's waist, the other brushing the mark at her neck.
For a moment the air changed, heat blooming between them again, familiar and tempting.
But Lara pulled back first.
Sarisa frowned. "Coward."
Lara laughed softly. "Exhausted mate. Very different."
"I am not exhausted."
"You nearly fell asleep while insulting my massage technique."
"I did no such thing."
"You called my thumb pressure tyrannical."
"It was."
"And then you sighed like a happy cat."
Sarisa narrowed her eyes. "I did not."
"You did."
Lara guided her under the blankets before the argument could become a second battle. Sarisa allowed it, mostly because the bed was warm and her limbs had turned traitor.
Lara climbed in beside her, pulling her close until Sarisa's head rested against her chest. The steady beat of Lara's heart filled the quiet.
Tomorrow still waited.
But it felt farther away now.
Sarisa's eyes drifted shut.
"Lara?"
"Mm?"
"If I panic tomorrow…"
"I'll be there."
"If I get angry?"
"I'll be there."
"If I don't know what to say?"
Lara kissed her forehead. "Then I'll stand beside you until you do."
Sarisa's hand curled into Lara's shirt.
"Good," she whispered.
Lara held her tighter.
And for once, Sarisa's thoughts slowed enough to let sleep in.