The rest of the day passed too quickly for Lara's liking.
One moment, she was guiding Sarisa away from Malvoria and her dangerous talent for ruining surprises.
The next, they were separated again by duties, signatures, and a procession of people who apparently believed the future queen needed to personally approve everything from border agreements to the shape of ceremonial bread.
Lara spent the afternoon pretending to listen to wedding planners while secretly thinking about star-metal.
She also spent far too much time imagining Sarisa's expression when she finally saw the rings.
That part helped.
The headache did not.
By dinner, it had settled behind Lara's eyes with the stubbornness of a small, angry creature.
She ate beside Sarisa, listened to a councilwoman explain that the wedding banquet required seven courses because six might imply "political hesitation," and nearly asked whether eight courses would declare war.
Sarisa must have noticed the danger because her hand found Lara's knee beneath the table.
A warning.
Or comfort.
Possibly both.
Lara stayed quiet.
Mostly.
When the last council member finally left, the palace had fallen into that rare late-night stillness that made its endless white corridors almost peaceful.
The children were sleeping in another wing under Veylira's supervision, which meant they were either perfectly safe or secretly learning military strategy. Lara was too tired to determine which possibility was worse.
She followed Sarisa into their chambers and closed the door behind them.
At last.
No council.
No judges.
No decorators holding silver fabric against Lara's shoulders and murmuring that black made her look "overly combative."
Lara was a demon warrior marrying into a realm that had recently imprisoned her.
She thought combative was honest.
Sarisa removed the pins from her hair one by one in front of the mirror. Silver strands slipped down her back, catching the soft golden light from the lamps. Her shoulders sagged slightly once the final pin was gone.
Lara watched her through the reflection.
"You're exhausted," she said.
Sarisa met her eyes in the mirror. "You have been pressing your fingers against your temples since dinner."
"That does not answer what I said."
"It was not meant to."
Lara crossed the room, stopping behind her.
For most of the day, all she had wanted was this. Sarisa within reach. No audience. No decisions. No one asking whether demon wedding traditions involved blood, fire, sacrifice, or all three.
She wrapped her arms around Sarisa's waist and rested her face against her shoulder.
Sarisa immediately softened against her.
"There you are," Sarisa murmured.
Lara closed her eyes. "I have been here all day."
"No. You have been glaring at wedding officials all day. This is different."
"One of them suggested I wear pale blue."
Sarisa's lips twitched. "Terrible."
"Thank you."
"It might suit you."
Lara lifted her head. "Betrayal."
Sarisa laughed quietly and turned in her arms.
The sound did something gentle to Lara's chest.
She kissed Sarisa before either of them could mention politics again.
It was not a desperate kiss. Not at first. It was slow, tired, warm.
The kind of kiss that existed because the day had been too long and the world too demanding, and they needed to remember they belonged somewhere softer than a council chamber.
Sarisa's hands slid around Lara's neck.
Lara kissed her again.
And again.
Eventually, Sarisa pulled back just enough to whisper, "Bed?"
"Yes."
That was the best decision anyone had made all week.
They changed into loose nightclothes, though Lara's shirt ended up abandoned over a chair when Sarisa complained that the fabric was cold against her skin.
Lara climbed onto the bed behind her and pulled Sarisa between her legs.
"Turn around," Lara said.
Sarisa glanced over her shoulder. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to massage you."
"You have a headache."
"And you have shoulders made of stone."
"I am Celestian. Perhaps that is natural."
"Turn around, my fiancée."
Sarisa's suspicion melted at the title.
Lara had discovered this weakness and intended to use it irresponsibly.
Sarisa turned, sitting with her back to Lara. Her silver hair was swept over one shoulder, leaving the long line of her neck bare. The mating mark remained visible there, dark against pale skin.
Lara's gaze lingered.
Then she forced herself to behave.
Mostly.
She placed both hands on Sarisa's shoulders and pressed her thumbs gently into the tight muscles near her neck.
Sarisa inhaled sharply.
"Too hard?"
"No."
Lara eased the pressure anyway, working slowly.
Her palms were naturally warmer than Sarisa's skin, a little heat from her demonic fire humming beneath them. Sarisa relaxed by degrees, her head tipping forward.
"Good?" Lara asked.
Sarisa made a quiet sound that was not quite a word.
Lara smiled.
"I'll take that as praise."
"You may."
She continued down Sarisa's shoulders, pressing and circling, feeling the tension gathered there from hours of sitting straight beneath everyone's expectations.
Sarisa carried her future crown like it was already resting on her bones.
Lara hated that.
She wanted to take some of the weight, even if all she could do tonight was loosen muscles and kiss tired skin.
Her hands moved lower, along Sarisa's upper back.
Sarisa leaned into her touch.
"You are surprisingly good at this," she murmured.
"Surprisingly?"
"You tend to approach most problems through threats."
"Massage is just threatening the pain until it leaves."
Sarisa laughed, but the sound broke into a soft breath when Lara's fingers found a particularly tense spot.
Lara slowed.
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of Sarisa's neck.
Sarisa went still.
The air shifted.
It was subtle at first. A warmth between them, familiar and dangerous. Sarisa turned her head slightly, exposing more of her throat rather than less.
Lara kissed the mating mark.
Sarisa's breath caught.
Then her hand reached back, fingers sliding into Lara's hair.
"Lara."
The way she said her name was unfair.
Lara kissed her again, lower this time, near the curve where neck met shoulder. Sarisa's body softened against hers, trusting, inviting.
Lara's hands paused at Sarisa's waist.
This was supposed to be a massage.
A quiet evening.
Cuddling.
Sleep.
Sarisa turned in her arms before Lara could remind either of them of that. She rose onto her knees, facing Lara, and kissed her with none of the earlier patience.
Lara responded immediately.
Of course she did.
She was tired, not dead.
Sarisa's hands traced over her shoulders, then down her bare chest. Lara's body reacted with humiliating honesty, heat gathering low and sudden.
She pulled Sarisa closer, their mouths meeting again, the kiss deepening until the headache disappeared beneath something much more distracting.
Sarisa shifted against her.
Lara's thoughts scattered.
This was becoming a terrible test of self-control.
Sarisa broke the kiss and looked at her, pupils wide, lips slightly swollen.
"You seem less tired now," she whispered.
Lara nearly laughed.
Instead, she swallowed and tried to remember why stopping was sensible.
Her muscles ached. Her eyes burned. Tomorrow involved a meeting at dawn, followed by wedding rehearsals and a discussion about whether demons could legally carry ceremonial weapons into a Celestian temple.
If they continued, Lara knew herself.
There would be very little sleep.
She rested her forehead against Sarisa's.
"I'm too tired to have sex tonight."
It was a lie.
A shameless, ridiculous lie.
Her body was making that painfully obvious.
Sarisa's gaze lowered.
Then rose again.
One silver eyebrow lifted.
Lara remained perfectly still, as though dignity could be recovered through lack of movement.
Sarisa's mouth curved.
"Too tired?"
"Yes."
"Your body appears to disagree."
"My body has poor judgment."
"It usually has excellent judgment where I am concerned."
Lara groaned and dropped backward onto the pillows, dragging Sarisa with her.
"Do not become arrogant."
Sarisa settled half on top of her, clearly pleased with herself. "You lied to your future queen."
"I am protecting my future queen from an exhausted demon with a headache."
"How noble."
"You're mocking me."
"Gently."
Sarisa kissed the corner of her mouth.
The heat between them remained, but it softened around the edges.
Lara pulled the blankets over them and wrapped both arms around Sarisa, holding her close enough that there was no space left for the palace, the wedding, or tomorrow.
Sarisa rested her head against Lara's chest.
"You truly only want to cuddle?" she asked.
Lara kissed her hair.
"And kiss."
Sarisa lifted her head.
Lara kissed her immediately.
Slowly this time.
Sweetly.
When they parted, Sarisa curled closer, one leg tangled with Lara's.
"I can accept that," she murmured.
"Generous."
"I know."
Lara closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Sarisa's hair.
Her headache was still there.
So was her inconvenient arousal.
But Sarisa was warm in her arms, safe and smiling against her skin.