A few days passed in a blur of careful movement and growing strength, the ache in Lara's arm fading until it was just a dull, familiar throb—a new scar, nothing more.
She flexed her hand, marveling at the restored mobility, and offered silent thanks for demon resilience and, more specifically, for Veylira's contraband medicine.
Whatever foul-smelling, tar-black concoction her mother had brewed, it had worked. The palace healers gaped in awe as the swelling retreated overnight and fresh skin sealed itself over the bite.
There would always be a mark—a crescent of white, puckered flesh near her elbow—but Lara was used to scars.
She counted them the way other people counted victories. This one was a reminder that she'd come home again, when it mattered most.
Home, today, was chaos. Malvoria had arrived just after dawn, sweeping into Lara's suite with a parade of servants in her wake, all bearing boxes of clothing, boots, and enough ribbons to strangle a manticore.
Lara had never particularly cared for finery, but Malvoria was relentless: "It's Aliyah's fifth, you brute. At least try to look like a responsible parent and not someone dragged in from the sparring yard."
Which, to be fair, Lara did, her usual look was all crisp lines and battered boots.
She was standing before the mirror now, letting Malvoria fasten a row of gold buttons at her collar.
The uniform was a new commission, sharp-shouldered and striking, the colors a bold blend of deep red and luminous gold.
It fit perfectly, hugging her body without restricting movement, and Malvoria had even managed to talk her into wearing the ceremonial sword at her hip.
"You clean up well," Malvoria observed, smoothing the jacket's lapels. Her own ensemble was just as fierce: black and red brocade, military trim, a row of medals gleaming at her breast.
"You look like someone who actually wins wars, not just bar fights."
Lara arched an eyebrow, grinning. "I do win bar fights. That's why I'm here and not locked in a dungeon."
Malvoria rolled her eyes. "Remind me to keep you away from the punch."
Lara flexed her injured arm, testing the range. "No promises. Aliyah asked for a demonstration of swordplay, and if any of those Celestian nobles try to criticize her, I might just use them as practice dummies."
Malvoria cackled, tossing her head. "I'll hold your sword. Now, let's check on the gremlins."
The children's wing of the palace was in utter disarray. Ribbons and hairpins littered the floor, and a pair of maids hovered at the door, looking harried but proud.
As they entered, Kaelith stood atop a dressing stool, arms thrown wide as she surveyed herself in the mirror.
She was a miniature vision of Malvoria—black and red general's jacket over a swirling skirt, a tiny silver sword belted at her waist, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Aliyah was at the vanity, turning this way and that as a maid pinned the last golden rose into her dark hair.
Her dress was a marvel—layered silk in a waterfall of red and gold, with a swirling sash at her waist. When she saw Lara and Malvoria enter, she lit up like sunrise.
"Mom!" Aliyah cried, launching herself off the stool and spinning in a circle to show off her dress. "Do I look like a princess?"
Lara knelt, catching her in a one-armed hug. "You look like the queen of everything," she said honestly. "The Celestians won't know what hit them."
Kaelith ran over, brandishing her little sword. "Aunt Lara, can we have a sword fight in the gardens after cake?"
Malvoria scooped her daughter into a hug. "No sword fights during the banquet, darling. We'll save that for when the nobles are gone."
Kaelith pouted. "But we practiced our routine!"
Aliyah nodded. "We choreographed an ambush."
Lara tried to keep a straight face. "We'll do the ambush at sunset. After presents."
Malvoria winked at the girls. "You heard your general."
The suite was a whirl of activity. The maids fluttered around, making last-minute adjustments to sleeves and sashes, and Kaelith and Aliyah pirouetted in their finery, giddy with anticipation.
Malvoria fussed over Kaelith's buttons, threatening to transfigure any stains into frogs, while Lara retied Aliyah's sash, hands gentle and careful.
Aliyah watched her in the mirror, expression suddenly serious. "Are you nervous?"
Lara considered the question. "About the banquet? Not really. About you eating all the honey cakes before I get there—terrified."
Aliyah giggled, twirling again. "I promised Kaelith we'd save you two."
Kaelith piped up, "We're the best at sharing."
Malvoria ruffled her daughter's hair. "Only because I bribe you with chocolate."
Lara grinned, letting herself relax. For a moment, it felt as if nothing could go wrong—no arguments, no court intrigue, just family, laughter, and the anticipation of a day meant for celebration.
She looked at her daughter, radiant in gold and red, and felt an ache of pride so fierce it surprised her. She's really growing up, Lara thought, and I get to see it.
A knock at the door interrupted their revelry. One of the junior stewards bowed, breathless. "Princess Sarisa is almost ready to join you. She asked that you assemble in the east corridor."
Lara's pulse jumped at the mention of Sarisa, though she kept her expression cool. She turned to the girls. "All right, troops. Time to show the world how good you look."
Kaelith saluted with a tiny fist, Kaelith-style: wild and earnest, eyes alight with adventure. Aliyah linked arms with her, and together, the children led the procession down the marbled hall.
Malvoria fell in beside Lara, the two of them marching behind their daughters like twin generals.
"You know, I almost wish there were more banquets like this," Malvoria murmured, voice pitched low so the girls wouldn't hear. "All this chaos, all this love. Makes it almost worth putting up with the nobles."
Lara bumped her shoulder. "Don't get sentimental on me now. We still have to survive the actual event."
"I'm counting on you to scare off at least half the Celestians," Malvoria replied with a smirk. "I'll handle the demons and humans."
They reached the east corridor, where the morning light spilled in through high windows, gilding everything in amber.
Maids bustled past, adjusting banners and setting up last touches. The scent of honey cakes and fresh-cut roses wafted in from the banquet hall, mingling with the faintest trace of something spiced—maybe hope, maybe just cinnamon.
Kaelith and Aliyah raced to the tall glass doors, pressing their noses against the panes to watch the last preparations outside. Lara watched them with a softness she rarely let herself feel in public.
Malvoria came to stand at her side, eyes sharp but not unkind. "You ready?"
Lara flexed her healed arm. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Before Malvoria could respond, a hush fell through the corridor. The maids stood a little straighter; even the children paused in their play.
Sarisa entered.
She was if Lara was honest, if she let herself feel it, breathtaking. The golden dress fit her perfectly, light as sunrise, with filigree patterns that caught every shard of light and set her glowing from within.
Her moonlight hair was swept back in soft waves, and she wore no crown, only a circlet of golden roses that seemed to hover above her brow.
For a long, charged moment, the world seemed to slow. Sarisa's gaze found Lara's, and something unspoken passed between them—a history, a question, a longing neither of them dared to answer just yet.
Aliyah was the first to break the spell, barreling into Sarisa's arms with all the energy of a child too excited to stand still. "You look like a goddess, Mom!"
Kaelith, not to be outdone, rushed to hug Sarisa's waist. "Are you going to turn the nobles to stone if they're mean?"
Sarisa laughed, hugging both children close. "Only the rude ones."
Malvoria whistled appreciatively. "I see the council will be outclassed today."
Lara stood back, hands in her pockets, heart pounding for reasons she didn't dare to examine.
Sarisa was radiant, and for a second Lara remembered every night spent beside her, every argument, every moment of peace. You're beautiful, she thought, but said nothing.
Sarisa looked up, meeting Lara's eyes. The gold of her dress reflected in the red and gold of Lara's uniform, a perfect echo. She smiled, small but real. "You all look wonderful. Shall we go?"