Time, Lara realized, had a way of slipping through her fingers when she was healing. Hours vanished into a haze of half-sleep, checkups, and the soft shuffle of feet outside her door.
The ache in her arm faded from blinding to merely annoying, replaced by a strange restlessness.
By the time the sun sank beneath the palace eaves, casting the hallways in honey and shadow, Lara was more than ready for dinner—and, she admitted, for Sarisa's company.
She was still smoothing her borrowed linen shirt, mind drifting with thoughts of bathwater and moonlight and the memory of Sarisa's gentle hands, when the door opened and a very different figure strolled in.
Malvoria entered as if she owned not just the palace but the world: sharp-shouldered, jaw set, eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.
"You're upright," she observed, crossing the room in three strides. "For a minute, the healers had bets you'd be out till Aliyah's next birthday."
Lara sat up straighter, unable to resist a smirk. "Shows what they know. Takes more than a dragon to finish me."
Malvoria plopped herself on the end of the bed, kicking her boots up onto the footboard, wholly unconcerned with decorum.
"Well, aren't you lucky I brought dinner?" She held up a tray, balancing it with one hand a minor miracle, considering the pile of bread, cheese, soup, and a generous helping of honey cake teetering precariously atop it.
Lara's stomach growled in open appreciation. "You're not Sarisa," she said, feigning disappointment as she accepted the tray. "I was expecting more moonlight and fewer threats to palace furniture."
Malvoria clutched her chest in mock offense. "How dare you? I'll have you know I can do moonlight."
She made a face, fluttering her eyelashes and lowering her voice to a parody of Sarisa's gentle cadence.
"'Oh, Lara, do you want an extra pillow? Is the soup too hot?'" She snorted. "If you want coddling, I'm not your girl."
Lara barked a laugh. "No, you're the one who'd dump the soup on my head if I complained."
"Absolutely." Malvoria grinned, sharp and bright. "Keeps you humble." She reached over, snagging a piece of bread for herself. "Besides, Sarisa's busy. You know, working. With Vaelen."
There was something sly in her tone. Lara rolled her eyes, refusing to take the bait. "Working, right. Signing papers, reviewing treaties, all that."
Malvoria leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I passed by the council wing just now. Door was half open, and I'm almost certain I saw Sarisa and Vaelen—" she paused, eyes wide "—kissing."
Lara choked on her soup, spluttering. "What?"
"Oh yes," Malvoria said solemnly, nodding. "There was swooning. A little dramatic sighing. He even called her 'my radiant moonflower.' Then they—"
Lara set down her spoon, rubbing her face with her good hand. "Stop. If you finish that sentence, I'm calling Kaelith and Aliyah in here. You'll regret it."
Malvoria cracked first, snorting with laughter so loud it echoed down the hallway. "You should see your face! Please—Vaelen can barely get through a sentence without tripping over his own feet. As for Sarisa, she'd sooner punch him than let him call her a moonflower."
Lara's laughter mingled with Malvoria's, shaking off the remnants of pain and fatigue. "You're the worst," she said affectionately.
Malvoria bowed. "Thank you. I try."
They ate together, comfortable in the kind of chaos that only true family can create. Malvoria stole half the cheese, Lara retaliated by hiding the honey cake under her pillow, and they argued over whose magic would win in a fair fight fire or chaos.
When Kaelith and Aliyah poked their heads in, giggling and jostling, Malvoria shooed them out with a mock-glare and the promise of a wrestling match later.
Eventually, the room quieted, leaving only the faint glow of the lamp and the shadows flickering across the floor.
Malvoria's laughter faded, replaced by a thoughtful silence. She watched Lara closely, eyes sharp as ever.
"Seriously though, about Sarisa and Vaelen—" her voice softened "—I wouldn't worry. Sarisa's as stubborn as you, and twice as cautious. If she wanted him, you'd know. If she didn't, she'd move a mountain to keep him at arm's length."
Lara hesitated, the earlier warmth slipping away. "I know." But the words felt heavy. "It's not… it's not about him. I just—" She shrugged, unable to say more.
Malvoria didn't press. Instead, she shifted the subject, her gaze growing more intent. "Tell me about the dragon."
Lara blinked, surprised by the seriousness threading Malvoria's words. "What about it?"
"You know as well as I do—dragons don't just wander down to the northern villages for fun. Not these days. And that one…" She shook her head. "How did it look? Color, size, anything unusual?"
Lara closed her eyes, recalling the battle—not just the heat and terror, but the creature itself.
"Black scales, almost oily. Sickly green eyes. Big—old, maybe, or just mean. There was a wound on its side, not fresh. Someone or something fought it before. Its breath was all fire and rot. Like burning poison."
Malvoria frowned. "Not a breed I know. Black dragons are rare, but not unheard of. Still, for one to come that close to civilization… You're sure it wasn't driven out by something else?"
Lara shrugged. "If it was, it didn't say. It seemed angry. Hurt. Desperate. But it kept looking back toward the village. Like it had a reason to be there." She hesitated, then added, "I was careful. I didn't sense any spells, no scent of other demons or magic. But then again, I was mostly focused on not dying."
Malvoria nodded, her expression unreadable. "Still. It worries me. Dragons are stubborn, territorial. It takes a lot to drive one out of its nest."
She tapped her fingers on her knee, a habit when she was thinking hard. "And if it was a plan—to hurt you, or to test the northern defenses—who'd gain from that?"
Lara grimaced. "Plenty of people hate me. Or hate what I am. Half the Celestian court would throw a party if I fell off a cliff. But a dragon is a bit much, even for them."
Malvoria grinned, but her eyes stayed dark. "You underestimate the lengths some people will go for politics. Or revenge."
A strange chill crept over Lara's skin. "Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just coincidence. But you don't believe in those, do you?"
Malvoria shook her head. "Not anymore. Not after everything we've seen."
The silence stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, Lara felt a strange comfort in sharing the burden.
For years, she'd been the blade at the border, the one who faced the darkness so others could sleep.
She'd never admitted—not even to Sarisa—that sometimes, when the dust settled, it was the not-knowing that haunted her most.
Malvoria seemed to sense it. She reached over, her hand warm on Lara's knee. "We'll keep watch. I'll send some of my best trackers north—quietly. If there's something out there, we'll find it."
Lara nodded. "Thank you."
They sat together, finishing the last bites of honey cake, letting the silence settle once more. The shadows grew long, the fire in the grate burning low.
Outside, the sound of children's laughter drifted up from the garden, as Aliyah and Kaelith chased fireflies in the grass.
Lara looked down at her healing arm, at the scars that had carried her through battle after battle.
"You know," she said quietly, "sometimes I wonder if it would be easier. If I just—" She stopped, swallowing the thought.
Malvoria didn't let her finish. "You'd never walk away," she said firmly. "You're not built for easy. Neither am I. But that's why we're still here."
Lara smiled, a little bitter, a little proud. "Maybe."
Malvoria clapped her on the shoulder, squeezing tight. "And hey—at least you're not dead. That's something."
Lara's grin was genuine this time, cutting through the weariness. "Yeah. At least I'm not dead."