The night before her wedding, Sarisa discovered that Veylira should never be trusted with the words organize something enjoyable.
The evening had begun innocently enough.
Suspiciously innocently, in retrospect.
Sarisa had been escorted to one of the private reception rooms in the Demon Palace, far from the ceremonial wing where the wedding preparations had swallowed half the staff.
The room had been transformed with soft golden lamps, silver flowers, comfortable couches, and a table burdened with enough food to feed a military unit.
There were cakes, fruit, delicate pastries, bottles of wine, stronger demonic spirits, and something glowing purple inside a crystal pitcher.
Sarisa had decided not to ask about that last one.
Elysia sat beside her on the largest couch, dressed in a comfortable midnight-blue gown rather than anything painfully formal.
Veylira occupied an armchair across from them, elegant in black silk, looking far too composed for someone who had insisted on arranging the entire evening herself.
Elysia lifted her glass.
"You are getting married tomorrow," she said, smiling warmly. "Time really does go fast."
Sarisa stared into her wine.
Tomorrow.
The word still did not feel real.
She had survived her mother's schemes, a false wedding, Lara's imprisonment, the discovery of Neris, a public trial, and two months of wedding preparations fierce enough to qualify as a natural disaster.
Tomorrow, she would finally marry the woman she had chosen.
"I know," Sarisa murmured. "It feels as though the tribunal was yesterday."
"And simultaneously ten years ago," Elysia said.
"Exactly."
Veylira took a measured sip from her glass. "That is because the wedding planners have distorted time."
Sarisa nodded gravely. "I believe one of them trapped me in a discussion about napkin embroidery for three hours."
"Three hours?" Elysia asked.
"There were political implications."
"Of course there were."
Veylira's expression remained perfectly serious. "A poorly embroidered napkin has ended stronger alliances."
Sarisa looked at her.
Veylira held the stare for several seconds before the faintest trace of amusement appeared in her violet eyes.
Sarisa sighed. "You are becoming more like Raveth."
"That is a terrible accusation."
"It is also true," Elysia said.
Veylira ignored her.
Elysia turned back toward Sarisa. "Do you think Lara is ready?"
Sarisa laughed softly.
"Lara has asked me seven times whether we truly need that many witnesses."
"What did you tell her?"
"That the wedding is also a state ceremony."
"And what did she say?"
"That the state needs fewer people."
Veylira nodded once. "A reasonable position."
"She also threatened to replace the entire seating chart with one long bench."
"That would simplify matters."
Sarisa stared at her future mother-in-law. "You were supposed to help me discourage her."
"I do not remember agreeing to that."
Elysia smiled into her drink.
Sarisa leaned back into the cushions. "She is ready to marry me. I know that. I am less certain she is ready for the ceremony."
"Lara would marry you barefoot in a forest while someone nearby fought a bear," Elysia said.
Veylira considered. "She might prefer that."
"She absolutely would," Sarisa replied.
The thought warmed something inside her.
Lara had been behaving strangely for the last several weeks. Not distant, exactly, but secretive.
She disappeared into conversations with Malvoria and Veylira, stopped speaking when Sarisa entered rooms, and once hid a velvet box beneath a stack of military reports with all the subtlety of a child concealing stolen sweets.
Sarisa knew something was being planned.
She had chosen not to investigate.
Mostly because she suspected it concerned the rings and wanted Lara to enjoy her surprise.
Also because every time she asked, Lara kissed her until she forgot the question.
It was an effective defensive strategy.
Elysia reached for a pastry. "You look calmer than I expected."
"I am terrified."
"You hide it well."
"I have been trained for public ceremonies since childhood."
"This one is different."
"Yes."
This time, Sarisa would not walk toward the altar wondering whether she could survive the marriage waiting beyond it.
This time, Lara would be there.
Lara, with her yellow fire, impossible stubbornness, terrible court manners, and hands that always found Sarisa's when the room became too heavy.
Sarisa smiled without meaning to.
Veylira noticed.
"She is thinking about Lara."
Elysia glanced at her. "How can you tell?"
"She has the expression."
"What expression?" Sarisa asked.
"The one that suggests my daughter has done something indecent."
Sarisa nearly inhaled her wine.
Elysia coughed into her hand, attempting to disguise a laugh.
"She has not," Sarisa said once she could breathe.
Veylira raised one eyebrow. "Not tonight, perhaps."
"Veylira."
"What? You are adults."
"Yes, and you are her mother."
"I was aware."
Sarisa covered her face with one hand.
The evening had barely begun, and she was already reconsidering every decision that had led her here.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Three slow knocks.
Veylira placed her glass down.
"Excellent. They are here."
Sarisa lowered her hand. "Who is here?"
"No one important."
That answer immediately made everything worse.
Elysia looked toward Veylira. "What did you do?"
"I arranged entertainment."
"What kind of entertainment?"
Veylira rose with unhurried elegance and crossed the room.
Sarisa and Elysia exchanged a look.
The door opened.
Music began.
Not from anywhere inside the room. It appeared to follow the five women waiting in the corridor, all dressed in glittering black-and-silver costumes that left very little to the imagination while technically preserving modesty.
Sarisa froze.
Elysia froze.
The women smiled.
The tallest one stepped forward, rolled one shoulder with impressive confidence, and said, "We were told there is a future queen in need of a proper final night of freedom."
Sarisa slowly turned toward Veylira.
"You brought strippers."
Veylira closed the door behind them. "Yes."
"You brought strippers to my bachelorette party."
"I was informed it was traditional."
"By whom?"
"Raveth."
Of course.
It always came back to Raveth.
Elysia placed her glass down very carefully. "You accepted advice from Raveth regarding social traditions?"
"She seemed knowledgeable."
"She is knowledgeable about tavern fights and creative threats."
"And apparently bachelorette parties."
The music grew louder.
One of the dancers spun elegantly into the room, a silver ribbon trailing from her wrist. Another carried a tray of tiny glowing drinks.
Sarisa stared at Veylira. "Did Lara approve this?"
"No."
"Does Lara know?"
"No."
"Will Lara kill someone if she discovers this?"
Veylira thought about it.
"Possibly."
Elysia looked alarmed. "Veylira."
"She cannot kill me. I am her mother."
"That has never stopped her from making threats."
The dancers arranged themselves near the center of the room. One winked at Sarisa.
Sarisa's entire royal education abandoned her.
She reached for her wine and drank far more quickly than dignity advised.
Elysia leaned closer. "We could ask them to leave."
The lead dancer had already begun moving to the music with slow, practiced grace.
Sarisa looked at Veylira.
Veylira looked serenely pleased with herself.
Then Sarisa looked at Elysia.
Elysia was very deliberately staring at the ceiling.
Sarisa started laughing.
She could not help it.
The entire situation was so absurd that the fear knotting her stomach finally snapped.
Here she was, less than a day from becoming Lara's wife and eventually Celestia's queen, sitting beside a former human princess and Lara's terrifying mother while five demon women danced beneath enchanted silver lights.
"Fine," Sarisa said.
Elysia lowered her gaze. "Fine?"
"It is my bachelorette party."
Veylira inclined her head, victorious.
"But no one tells Lara."
"That seems wise," Elysia said.
One of the dancers approached and held out her hand to Sarisa.
Sarisa stared at it.
"No."
The dancer smiled. "Future Queen?"
"No."
Veylira picked up her glass again. "Cowardice is unbecoming."
Sarisa turned toward her. "You dance with her."
Veylira's expression changed for the first time that evening.
"No."
Elysia began laughing.
The dancer changed direction and offered her hand to Veylira.
Veylira stared at it as though it were an assassination attempt.
Sarisa smiled sweetly. "Cowardice is unbecoming."
Veylira's eyes narrowed.
Five minutes later, Veylira was standing in the middle of the room while a dancer circled her, and Sarisa was laughing so hard that tears gathered in her eyes.
Veylira remained perfectly still.
Her posture was regal.
Her expression promised murder.
The dancer placed a feathered hat on her head.
Elysia nearly fell sideways against Sarisa.
"This," Sarisa managed between breaths, "is the greatest night of my life."
"You are getting married tomorrow," Veylira said coldly.
"The second greatest."
The dancers stayed for nearly an hour.
Nothing became scandalous enough to start a diplomatic incident, though one woman danced on the table, another persuaded Elysia to wear a sparkling sash, and Veylira threatened to erase Raveth's name from history.
After they left, the three women collapsed across the couches amid empty glasses, crooked decorations, and enough glitter to contaminate the room for generations.
Sarisa rested her head against the cushions, smiling.
Tomorrow frightened her.
Tomorrow would change everything.
But tonight had loosened the fear and replaced it with warmth, laughter, and the reassuring knowledge that the family she was marrying into was completely unhinged.
She looked toward Elysia, who was attempting to remove glitter from her hair, and then toward Veylira, who was still wearing the feathered hat because no one had dared mention it.
Sarisa's smile widened.
"I wonder what the others are doing."