A few days later, Sarisa learned that becoming acting sovereign did not feel like wearing a crown.
It felt like drowning in paper.
There were decrees to review, emergency orders to sign, lists of suspended officials, petitions from frightened noble houses, letters from border villages, requests from priests, financial reports, trial preparations, guard restructuring proposals, and three separate documents about grain storage that somehow all used different numbers.
By the third morning, Sarisa had stared so long at a parchment titled Temporary Administrative Stabilization of Eastern Worship Districts that the words began to look like an insult.
Lara, to everyone's surprise and Sarisa's private amusement, turned out to be useful.
Not elegant.
Useful.
She had no patience for polite nonsense, which meant she cut through documents faster than half the advisors.
Whenever a report used twenty lines to avoid saying something obvious, Lara summarized it aloud in one sentence.
"This one says the northern guard captain is incompetent but has cousins."
"This one says three noble houses are scared of losing bribe money."
"This one says the candle budget is criminal. Why do priests need that many candles?"
"This one is trying to pretend a minor rebellion is a scheduling concern."
Sarisa had laughed so hard at that last one that her secretary had dropped a quill.
Lara also remembered names. Not noble titles, which she claimed were "just hats people wore in language," but people. Servants. Guards. District leaders. Merchants. Minor officials.
Anyone who had actually done work instead of inherited a chair. She pointed out which names appeared too often near suspicious payments, which guards had been stationed near the old laboratories, which officials had switched loyalty too quickly after the queen's arrest.
Sarisa watched her across the desk more than once and thought, with quiet warmth, that the council had no idea what it had accepted.
Lara would not be a decorative consort.
Lara would be a problem.
Sarisa loved that about her.
Still, by the afternoon, duty shifted from paper to flesh.
Sarisa was going to see her mother.
The former queen remained imprisoned in the demon realm dungeon, held under layered wards powerful enough to restrain royal Celestian magic.
Her trial was scheduled in a few days, after final witness statements were collected and the tribunal formation confirmed.
Sarisa had avoided visiting her.
Not out of fear.
At least, that was what she told herself.
But the truth was uglier. Part of Sarisa still remembered being a child waiting for her mother's approval.
Part of her still remembered standing in front of mirrors while Queen Marena adjusted her posture, saying, A princess must look like she carries the sky without effort.
Sarisa had carried too much.
Now she wanted answers.
Lara stood beside her in the teleportation chamber, arms crossed, expression already dark.
"You don't have to go," Lara said.
Sarisa adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. "I know."
"She's going to say something cruel."
"I know that too."
"I can come with you."
Sarisa looked at her.
Lara's eyes were steady, but Sarisa could feel the tension through the bond. Lara wanted to protect her.
Wanted to stand between Sarisa and every word that might wound. Wanted, probably, to slam Marena into a wall if she so much as breathed wrong.
That was exactly why Sarisa could not take her.
"Not this time," Sarisa said gently.
Lara's jaw tightened.
Sarisa stepped closer and touched her cheek. "I need to face her without you standing between us."
"I wouldn't stand between you."
Sarisa smiled faintly. "You would try very hard not to."
Lara sighed. "I hate when you understand me."
"No, you don't."
"No," Lara muttered. "I don't."
Sarisa kissed her once, soft and brief. "I'll be back soon."
"If she hurts you—"
"She cannot hurt me the way she used to."
Lara did not look convinced.
Sarisa was not entirely convinced either.
But she teleported anyway.
The demon dungeon was nothing like the Celestian one.
The Celestian dungeon had been cold and pale and cruel in its cleanliness. The demon dungeon was darker, older, carved deep into black stone beneath Malvoria's castle.
It smelled of iron, ash, and ward-magic. Blue flame burned in sconces along the corridor, casting sharp shadows over barred doors marked with runes.
A demon guard led Sarisa through the lower hall in respectful silence.
No one stared at her here.
That helped.
At the last cell, the guard stopped. "She cannot use magic, Your Highness. The glass barrier is reinforced. She cannot touch you unless you cross the inner line."
"I understand."
The guard stepped back.
Sarisa faced the cell.
Her mother sat inside on a narrow stone bench, dressed not in silver silk now, but in plain white prison robes. Even here, she held herself like a queen. Back straight. Chin lifted.
Hair braided neatly, though without jewels. Her wrists were circled by dark rune cuffs, and a transparent magical barrier shimmered between her and the corridor.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Marena smiled.
It was not warm.
"Well," she said. "Look at you. Playing ruler already."
Sarisa's heart did not break.
That surprised her.
It merely hardened.
"Mother."
Marena's eyes flicked over her dress, her posture, the mark still visible at her throat. Her lip curled. "You look tired."
"I am."
"A poor beginning for a queen."
"A better one than hiding laboratories under chapels."
The queen's smile sharpened.
There she was.
No remorse. No shame. Only anger that she had been caught.
"You think yourself clever now," Marena said. "Because demons applaud you and frightened councilors bend quickly when scandal is fresh."
Sarisa stepped closer, stopping before the inner line. "I don't need applause."
"No. You need Lara Daemara, apparently." Her mother's gaze dropped to the mating mark. "How quickly you learned to wear corruption proudly."
Sarisa's fingers twitched.
She did not let them curl.
"She is my mate."
"She is a demon who seduced you away from your duty."
"No," Sarisa said. "You tried to carve duty out of my blood and give it a leash."
For the first time, Marena's eyes flashed with something raw.
"Do you think ruling is softness?" she snapped. "Do you think a realm survives because its queen wants love and pretty reforms? Celestia survived because I understood sacrifice."
"You sacrificed others."
"I sacrificed what was necessary."
"Neris was a child."
Marena's expression did not change.
That, more than any insult, made Sarisa feel cold.
"He was an instrument," Marena said.
Sarisa stared at her.
There it was.
No mask.
No motherly excuse.
Just the truth, ugly and bare.
"He is a child," Sarisa said, voice low.
"A made thing."
Sarisa's chains flared around her wrist before she could stop them, silver links appearing and vanishing like lightning.
Marena noticed and smiled. "Careful, daughter. Anger looks less noble on you than you think."
Sarisa breathed once.
Twice.
"You do not get to speak about nobility."
Marena rose slowly from the bench and walked to the barrier. The runes around her wrists glowed, suppressing magic before it could form.
"You will fail," she said softly. "The council will use you. The demons will own you. Lara will grow bored when ruling becomes tedious. That child of yours will become a symbol for enemies to gather around. And when the realm fractures, they will remember me as the last queen strong enough to keep it whole."
Sarisa felt every word.
Not as deeply as before.
But she felt them.
The old hooks were still there, buried in childhood, polished by years of obedience. For a second, she heard the mother who had once braided her hair before ceremonies. The queen who had told her she was precious because she belonged to Celestia.
Then she remembered the folder.
Vessel S-Alpha.
She remembered Neris asking if adults would hit him.
She remembered Aliyah's small hands clinging to her.
She remembered Lara saying, You're not alone anymore.
Sarisa lifted her chin.
"No," she said. "They will remember you as a woman who mistook control for strength."
Marena's face tightened.
Sarisa continued, calm now. "You are not Celestia. You never were. You were only the person standing in front of it, making everyone believe your shadow was the sky."
For the first time, Marena said nothing.
Sarisa smiled faintly.
Not kindly.
"Don't worry," she said. "Your trial is in a few days anyway."
Marena's eyes burned. "You would put your own mother on trial?"
Sarisa turned toward the corridor.
Then she paused and looked back.
"No," she said. "I am putting a criminal on trial."
The queen's face twisted with fury, but Sarisa was already walking away.