I swore I was just helping raise our daughter

Sarisa woke early, her nerves fluttering with a blend of excitement and reluctant apprehension.

The castle was still and blue-shadowed when she slipped from bed, pulling the curtains wide to let in the sea breeze.

For once, Aliyah did not come barreling into her arms at dawn; Elysia and Malvoria had taken the children to the gardens, giving Sarisa a quiet farewell. She missed them already—the weight of leaving pressed into her chest with each careful breath.

But she had duties, and she was not alone.

When she emerged into the hallway, she found Lara waiting, already dressed in formal uniform.

The sight was grounding: tall, sharp-eyed, hair tied back, a crispness to her stance that belied the exhaustion in her gaze. At her feet sat two heavy trunks, polished and well-packed.

Sarisa blinked. "Did the porters bring those up?"

Lara shrugged, her tone wry. "No porters. Just me. If anyone should be carrying the luggage, it's not the princess."

A smile tugged at Sarisa's lips. "You're spoiling me."

"About time someone did." Lara picked up both trunks—effortlessly, as if they weighed nothing. "And don't even think about arguing."

The journey to the teleportation circle was quick, servants bowing as they passed, guards saluting with a little more respect than usual.

Sarisa couldn't help but notice how people watched her and Lara together not with suspicion, as in the past, but with curiosity and even, sometimes, a spark of hope.

She wondered what stories would swirl in the wake of their departure.

The teleportation chamber was a cold, round vault of runes and shimmering light. Lara handed the trunks to an attendant, then offered Sarisa her arm. "Ready, Your Highness?"

Sarisa rolled her eyes but accepted. "Just don't call me that in front of the Southern council. I want them to think I'm approachable."

Lara grinned, a flash of teeth. "Of course, Your Most Approachable Highness."

Sarisa elbowed her, laughter slipping free just as the runes flared and the world spun, colors bleeding into the familiar, stomach-dropping sensation of magic tearing reality apart and stitching it back together.

They landed in a warm, bustling plaza outside the Southern island's gate. The air was thick with salt and the spicy scent of blooming orange trees.

Waiting nearby was a polished carriage, painted in deep blue and silver, the crest of the Southern court emblazoned on its door. A pair of horses snorted, tossing their manes.

A servant bowed and gestured to the carriage. Lara took Sarisa's arm again, guiding her inside with the casual assurance of someone who had learned the delicate art of protocol by breaking it.

Inside, the cushions were soft, the windows wide enough to see the coastline and the distant, mist-shrouded hills.

As the carriage rolled forward, Sarisa let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Well, that was less dramatic than I feared."

Lara leaned back, grinning. "Give it time. We haven't even met the islanders yet."

Sarisa smirked. "Place your bets, then. How do you think we'll be welcomed? Fanfares and confetti, or will they just pretend we don't exist until dinner?"

Lara tapped her chin. "Ten coins says there's at least one awkward banner, spelled wrong. And a fruit platter shaped like a ship."

Sarisa snorted. "I'll take that bet. But I think they'll try to impress us with something local. Maybe a dance. Or a speech that's twice as long as necessary."

"Or," Lara countered, "they make us stand in the sun for an hour while every noble child hands you a flower and recites a poem."

They both laughed, the carriage rocking gently beneath them as the sea road curved along the cliffs. Sarisa watched Lara's face, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, how the tight lines of duty eased when she let herself be silly.

The laughter loosened something in Sarisa, made the rest of the journey pass in a flash of comfort and anticipation.

As they neared the city, the streets grew crowded with banners and flags. Children waved from balconies; musicians played a cheerful, slightly off-key tune near the gates.

And, as Lara had predicted, there was indeed a welcome banner—spelled just slightly wrong, stretched crookedly between two columns: "WELCOM PRINCESS SARISA & GUARD!"

Lara leaned in and whispered, "Pay up."

Sarisa bit back a laugh, face schooled into regal composure as they stepped from the carriage.

Sunlight glinted on her golden tattoos, her dress fluttering in the ocean breeze. Lara handed her down, careful as always—her grip steady, her presence reassuring.

They were met by a procession of officials, their clothing a riot of Southern island colors—saffron, sea-green, coral.

The Queen herself approached, a statuesque woman with sun-browned skin, adorned in layered silks and a circlet of white pearls.

"Princess Sarisa," the Queen greeted, her voice rich and musical, "and honored bodyguard. We are overjoyed to have you as our guests. Please, let our hospitality make up for the long journey."

Sarisa bowed gracefully. "Your Majesty. The honor is mine."

The Queen smiled, then cast a glance at Lara. "We have made arrangements for your comfort. The castle is… not as large as your own, but we hope you'll find it pleasing. Come, let me show you."

The walk to the castle was short but scenic—winding up through gardens exploding with orange blossoms, fountains carved from rose-colored stone, and the distant echo of laughter from the kitchens.

Inside, the castle was bright and open, sunlight pouring through latticework windows, tapestries depicting seafaring legends on every wall.

A steward led them to their rooms at the end of a broad, airy corridor. The doors opened onto a suite with a view of the sea, golden light filling the space. The Queen hesitated at the threshold, her smile turning sheepish.

"I must apologize, Princess," she said. "We have so many guests for the debrief—my own children and several nobles from the outer islands—that, regrettably, our chambers are full. I'm afraid you and your bodyguard will have to share the royal guest suite. There's only one bed, but it's large, and the view is the finest in the castle."

Sarisa blinked, heat rising in her cheeks. She glanced at Lara—who, for once, looked as stunned as Sarisa felt.

"Oh," Sarisa managed. "That's… perfectly fine. Thank you for your hospitality."

The Queen nodded, relief evident, and departed with her entourage, promising to send refreshments and a guide for the evening's festivities.

The door closed behind them. Silence settled.

Lara surveyed the room—a massive, canopied bed, piles of embroidered pillows, a table set for two by the window, and a balcony overlooking the sparkling bay.

"Well," Lara said after a moment, "at least we don't have to fight over who gets the better view."

Sarisa exhaled, a mix of laughter and nerves. "I'm sure we can survive one bed for a week."

Lara shot her a crooked smile. "I can take the floor, if you want."

"No," Sarisa replied, more quickly than she meant. She tried to cover her embarrassment with a laugh. "It's a big bed. And if anyone asks, we can say it's for diplomacy."

Lara grinned. "Wouldn't want to offend the Southerners."

They both laughed, the awkwardness fading into something warmer a shared secret, a thread of comfort and possibility.

Sarisa crossed to the window, drawing back the curtains to let in more sun, and gazed at the waves below. She heard Lara moving about, unpacking the trunks, humming softly under her breath.

For a moment, it felt almost like a holiday just the two of them, far from court, far from the unspoken rules of the capital.

Sarisa let herself imagine it: lazy mornings, shared meals, the ease of friendship blooming into something more. But she pushed the thought away, focusing on the duties ahead.

Still, as she turned to Lara, she caught the glint of mischief in her bodyguard's eyes—the same spark she'd seen in the carriage, in those moments of laughter.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip would change things between them. Maybe the boundaries could be redrawn.

She didn't know what the week would bring. But for the first time in a long while, Sarisa found herself hoping.