The air in the banquet hall was thick with a kind of gold-dusted awe, as if the evening's pageantry had cast a spell over every marble pillar and velvet-draped chair.
Lara stood at the far edge of the crowd, hands in the pockets of her crisp general's jacket, posture as straight as a blade, watching the dance unfold.
Sarisa and Vaelen moved in seamless, measured circles at the heart of the ballroom. They matched each other step for step, gold and gold, the silk of Sarisa's dress swirling in elegant arcs.
Vaelen, handsome in his tailored suit, held her gently but firmly, the picture of princely assurance.
When he spun her beneath the chandeliers, their reflections danced with them in a thousand fractured panes of light.
It shouldn't have hurt. Lara knew this was how the story was meant to go—the perfect Celestian princess, the dignified prince.
Their union was a bridge across fractured realms, a promise to the watching world that the old wounds could heal. And yet, the ache in her chest wouldn't soften, no matter how fiercely she tried to smother it.
All around her, the court was abuzz with murmurs and bright, brittle laughter. She caught snatches of conversation as guests glided past, their words like polished arrows:
"A vision, aren't they? The realm's hope embodied."
"He worships her, you can see it."
"At last, some stability—after all that chaos…"
Lara barely moved. She focused instead on Aliyah and Kaelith, who sat on their twin thrones giggling behind small hands, their eyes darting between the dancers and the buffet. The innocence of children—so unburdened by the weight of appearances.
But no one at court could look away from Sarisa and Vaelen, as if their hopes for the realm rested on the choreography of this one dance.
Lara knew how much Sarisa hated being watched like this, a living symbol. She remembered whispered confessions in shadowed hallways, the rare moments when Sarisa could drop her guard and be just a mother, just herself.
Now, every inch of her was on display—graceful, serene, and achingly distant.
Lara's thoughts scattered when a presence loomed at her side. The Celestian queen, regal and poised, slipped close enough that only Lara could hear her words.
"They look good together, don't they?" the queen murmured, her tone honeyed but edged with calculation. "Powerful. Almost as if they were made for one another."
Lara stiffened, not trusting herself to answer. She kept her eyes on the dancers, biting down on the impulse to offer some pointed remark. The queen continued, leaning in just enough for her breath to brush Lara's ear.
"Perhaps now, even the most stubborn among us will see that the future is secured." Her gaze slid sideways, meeting Lara's with a flicker of cold amusement. "All it takes is one perfect union."
Lara forced a smile. "It's a good performance, Your Majesty. The court will be reassured."
The queen arched a brow. "Performance? No, General. What you see is genuine admiration—perhaps even love, in time. Vaelen is not a man who settles for less than devotion."
Lara wanted to laugh. Or perhaps he simply knows how to play his part, she thought. But the words stuck in her throat.
There was no room for sarcasm here—not with the world watching, not with her own feelings tangled up in regret and hope.
The music swelled, the orchestra reaching a crescendo. The dancers on the floor pulled back, giving Sarisa and Vaelen the entire hall.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze. Sarisa's gold dress flickered like sunlight, her expression perfect, unreadable. Vaelen smiled, offering her a deep, courtly bow.
The nobles began to clap, some rising to their feet, swept up in the spectacle. Lara stood perfectly still, her hands curling into fists inside her pockets. Don't let them see, she told herself. Don't give them the satisfaction.
She remembered another night, years ago, when she and Sarisa had snuck out of a state banquet to let Aliyah chase fireflies in the garden.
The laughter, the freedom, the sense that just for a moment their lives belonged to them alone. Now, every joy was staged, every smile orchestrated.
Vaelen led Sarisa through one final turn, and as the last note faded, he released her gently, still holding her hand. The room quieted, all eyes riveted.
There was something almost tender in the way he looked at her real or perfectly practiced, Lara couldn't tell.
Then, before the applause had fully died, Vaelen dropped to one knee. The court gasped—a sound of delight and expectation, quickly followed by the hush of absolute silence.
Sarisa stood frozen, gold skirts pooling around her feet, the center of every gaze.
Lara's breath caught, her vision narrowing until there was only this—Sarisa, lit by candlelight, eyes wide in surprise, and Vaelen, steady and certain, his intentions shining clear for all to see.
Vaelen produced a ring, a delicate thing, wrought of gold and set with a pale blue stone that flashed with its own inner light. He held it aloft, voice carrying through the hall, rich and unwavering.
"Princess Sarisa , I have admired your strength, your kindness, and your devotion. You have led your people through storm and shadow. It would be the honor of my life to stand at your side, to support you in all things, to build a future worthy of the hope you bring to our world."
He paused, searching her face for some sign, some answer. "Will you accept this ring, and with it, my heart and my vow?"
For a moment, there was only the thunder of Lara's own heart in her ears.
The court waited. Even the orchestra seemed to hold its collective breath. Aliyah and Kaelith stared, mouths open, oblivious to the politics swirling around them.
Sarisa's eyes found Lara—just for a heartbeat, a sliver of shared memory, of loss and longing.
There was pain there, and apology, and something that shimmered dangerously close to hope. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.
Sarisa turned back to Vaelen, her expression shifting to one of regal composure. Her voice was clear, strong, echoing off the marble like a bell.
"I accept," she said. "With gratitude and hope for the future."
A roar of applause crashed through the hall, nobles rising in a wave of clapping, cheers, and relief.
Lara felt the sound battering her, forcing her to remain still, stoic, as Sarisa extended her hand and Vaelen slid the ring onto her finger.
Vaelen stood, beaming, and Sarisa allowed him to kiss her hand—just the right note of ceremony, just enough to make the crowd believe. They turned together, facing the thunderous approval of the room.
Lara watched it all from the edge—the hand, the ring, the kiss. It felt like watching a door close, quietly but irrevocably, on a chapter she hadn't realized was ending.
Was this what it meant to serve? To protect her from afar while the rest of the world claimed her as their own?
The queen slid away as the crowd surged forward, congratulating the new couple. Malvoria and Elysia exchanged glances; Kaelith bounced in her seat, not yet grasping the enormity of what had just transpired.
Aliyah watched her mothers, her brows knit in confusion, and Lara saw a thousand questions form behind those bright red eyes.
Lara's chest was tight. It would be so easy to disappear—slip out the side door, find a quiet corridor and let herself feel all that she'd been holding back. But she didn't.
She stood her ground, jaw set, eyes bright, watching Sarisa shine at the center of the storm.
A page brushed past, offering Lara a glass of wine. She took it, sipping mechanically, letting the sharpness ground her.
Around her, the celebration whirled on—laughter, music, the ringing of crystal and silver. The world celebrated the future, never once glancing back to see what was left behind.
As Vaelen and Sarisa moved from guest to guest, accepting congratulations and blessings, Lara caught the fleeting moments when Sarisa's smile faltered, when her eyes searched for something beyond the flood of approval.
Lara wanted to go to her wanted to offer some comfort, some joke, some anchor in the rising tide. But there was no space for her here. Not now.
Instead, she found herself at Aliyah's side. The child slipped her small hand into Lara's, face serious.
"Does this mean he's my new dad?" Aliyah whispered, voice trembling.
Lara knelt, brushing a loose curl from her daughter's forehead. "No one can replace your mom," she said softly. "Not for me. Not for you. But Vaelen will try to be a good friend, if you let him."
Aliyah considered this, then nodded. "You're still my mom, right? Even if you're not up there?"
Lara's voice cracked, but she managed, "Always. No matter what."