I swore I was just helping raise our daughter

Lara had dressed for duty: black and gold uniform pressed to crisp perfection, boots shined, sword at her hip only because she'd been told not to leave it in the suite.

Her hair, dark and streaked with red, was tied back in a manner that matched the Southern court's slightly relaxed elegance. When Sarisa emerged from behind the folding screen, Lara had needed a moment to recover her composure.

The gown was a shade of midnight blue that made Sarisa's pale skin and golden tattoos seem to glow.

A single long zipper, gold as sunlight, ran diagonally from shoulder to hip, somehow both practical and devastatingly stylish.

It clung to her in all the right places and made her look not just royal, but untouchable. Lara grinned, her usual cockiness slipping back into place to mask the jolt of heat.

"You're going to cause an international incident if you keep looking like that," Lara said, teasing, as she held open the door.

Sarisa arched a brow but didn't blush. "I'm hoping to. If only to liven up the diplomatic boredom."

Lara followed her through the hallways, both of them projecting the serene calm required of their stations.

When they reached the grand dining hall, Lara was struck by the sheer scale of the thing—an enormous room carved from coral stone, open to the breeze, lanterns hung from twisted driftwood beams, tables in long curves, and easily two hundred people seated or standing about.

The sound of conversation, laughter, and clinking glass filled the air.

Servants in sea-green livery ushered Sarisa and Lara to their places of honor, just two seats to the right of the Queen herself.

Lara could feel dozens of curious stares settling on them as they passed, and she let herself stand tall, chin up, eyes steady. She was not just a bodyguard—she was the demon general, and if anyone thought to cause trouble, they'd be sorry.

Sarisa slid gracefully into her seat, murmuring a thank you to the server who poured her wine.

Lara sat beside her, ever watchful, the wall at her back and a perfect vantage of the room. She scanned for danger out of habit but found only Southern nobility—beautiful, sun-bronzed people in bright silks, silver jewelry glinting in the candlelight.

Many of them looked to be nobles from minor houses, but there were also foreign merchants, islanders from farther south, and at the high table, the Southern Queen, her husband the King, and their only daughter.

The princess was striking, with glossy black hair cut in a sharp, modern style and dark gold eyes that missed nothing.

She wore a fitted dress in the Southern style: vibrant orange silk with a skirt that shimmered like flames.

She was, Lara guessed, about twenty- somthing just a little younger than Sarisa, but a world apart in upbringing. The girl met Lara's gaze directly, her interest plain and her smile dangerously self-assured.

The dinner began with small, elaborate courses: grilled fish with lime, spiced root vegetables, honey-sweet breads. As the meal progressed, the conversation turned from pleasantries to the real reason for Sarisa's visit.

The Queen's voice, low and melodic, carried easily across the table. "Princess Sarisa, I thank you for accepting our invitation. Our islands are beautiful, but we are not without challenges. Trade with the northern coast has been disrupted by storms, and there are rumors of piracy in the straits again."

The King, older but still imposing, nodded. "We are also seeing more refugees from the eastern archipelago. Our resources are stretched. My council and I hope that, together, our realms can coordinate patrols and relief. You have a reputation for fairness, Princess. We would trust your guidance in these matters."

Sarisa listened carefully, hands folded, her expression both warm and authoritative. "The Celestian crown is committed to peace in the South. We can certainly increase naval patrols, and I will recommend that the capital allocate funds for relief shipments. W will help with the pirate problem."

The nobles murmured their approval. Lara watched Sarisa work—her poise, her easy command. She was beautiful, yes, but what truly drew people in was the certainty in her voice. Lara caught herself staring and quickly looked away.

The Southern princess, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off Lara for more than a minute.

When the table conversation paused, she leaned in, chin resting on her hand.

"General Lara, isn't it? My friends told me you once defeated a wyvern with only a broken sword. Is that true, or do the Celestians just like telling stories?"

Lara grinned, happy to play the game. "Oh, it was only half-broken. And the wyvern was just cranky from all the singing."

The princess laughed, a bright, genuine sound. "They also say you're the strongest demon this side of the Rift. I find that hard to believe—unless you're much older than you look."

Lara cocked her head, feigning offense. "Are you trying to guess my age, Princess? That's dangerous in court, you know. But I'll save you the trouble—I'm thirty-three. And still undefeated by anything except—" she looked at her wine, "Southern wine, which is surprisingly strong."

The King perked up at that. "My daughter is twenty-five, you know. You're not so far apart."

He gestured between them, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "And she is, if I may boast, undefeated as well. Especially in matters of debate, music, and swordplay."

The princess raised an eyebrow, playful. "Are you always this forward, Father?"

"Only when I see potential," the King said, sipping his wine.

Lara leaned back, eyes glinting. "Potential in what, exactly? Duels? Politics? Or—" she let her gaze linger on the princess, her voice dropping to a flirtatious purr, "something a little more interesting?"

There was a ripple of laughter at the table, and a few older courtiers coughed pointedly. The princess met Lara's gaze, unfazed. "You'd have to work for it, General. Islanders are not so easily impressed by mainland legends."

Lara made a show of sighing. "A challenge, then. I accept. But be warned, I'm relentless when I want something."

The princess gave a theatrical shiver. "Dangerous. I like that."

Sarisa, for her part, remained silent, her wineglass held delicately between her fingers. Lara could feel the tension radiating from her, though she didn't look over.

The little muscle in Sarisa's jaw twitched, just barely, and Lara wondered if she'd gone too far—or if this was, in some perverse way, what Sarisa wanted: distance, distraction, a demonstration that Lara had moved on.

Dinner continued, the conversation returning to politics, with the Southern Queen discussing trade routes and local customs.

Lara offered a few measured opinions, but her role was to observe, protect, and tonight, apparently to flirt with the princess, who took every opportunity to ask about demon magic, swordplay, or mainland customs.

At one point, the princess leaned in so close her perfume—spicy and floral—nearly overwhelmed Lara's senses. "If you ever want a real tour of the island," she whispered, "I know every secret path. Including the best place to see the stars."

Lara flashed a lopsided grin. "Careful, Princess. You keep that up, and your parents will start arranging a double wedding."

The girl laughed and pulled away, her cheeks just a little flushed.

Finally, dessert was served fruit tarts drizzled with honey, candied ginger, iced teas and the dinner drew to a close.

The Queen rose and thanked her guests, servants beginning to usher people out in clusters toward the moonlit courtyard and the castle's winding halls.

Lara stood and offered Sarisa her arm, for show and for habit. Sarisa accepted, her expression perfectly composed, but when their fingers brushed, there was a tremor there—a wordless question Lara wasn't sure how to answer.

They returned to their suite in silence, the sounds of laughter and music fading behind them.

The door closed softly, leaving only the hush of the sea beyond the windows.

Lara let out a breath, feeling a strange mixture of triumph and regret. Flirting was easy. Facing the woman she actually wanted that would be harder, and far more dangerous.