The door shut behind them with a soft but final click.
Lara stepped out onto the balcony first, her boots echoing against the polished stone. The moon hung high overhead, swollen and gold, its light casting long shadows across the tiles.
The wind was cool against her still-warm skin, brushing past her cheeks like a whisper she didn't want to hear.
She didn't turn to Sarisa right away.
Not yet.
She needed a breath.
Just one.
Because if she didn't center herself, she'd explode.
And she didn't want to explode.
Not until she understood.
Not until she heard it from Sarisa's mouth.
So she gripped the edge of the balustrade with both hands, knuckles white against the carved stone, and stared out over the palace gardens like they might offer her an answer the Queen hadn't.
She didn't get one.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Lara turned.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Sarisa stood a few paces away, her arms folded across her chest, her expression unreadable. Moonlight gilded the edges of her gown, silver against midnight. The wind tugged at the ends of her hair.
They could've been statues.
But statues didn't hurt like this.
"What the hell was that?" Lara asked.
Her voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.
Sarisa didn't flinch.
"I assume you're referring to the announcement."
Lara took a step forward. "Of course I'm referring to the announcement. You let your mother stand in front of a table full of vultures and tell everyone you're getting married like it's some neat little political footnote. And you didn't say a word. Not one."
"I didn't know she would announce it tonight," Sarisa said evenly.
"That's not the answer I need, Sarisa."
Sarisa's jaw tightened. "Then what do you want me to say?"
"I want the truth."
"It is the truth," she snapped. "I knew she was arranging something. I didn't know she would reveal it now."
Lara's heart twisted. "So it's true? You're marrying that prince?"
"I'm being told to marry him."
"That's not an excuse."
"No, it's reality."
Lara's breath caught in her chest.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The moon bore silent witness to the tension between them, washing their faces in cold gold.
Lara took another step. Her voice lowered.
"Did you even think about Aliyah?"
Sarisa blinked.
Lara kept going.
"Did you think about how she'll feel? How she'll react when some stranger shows up in her life and sits beside you and pretends to be part of her family? Did you think about how you're going to explain to our daughter that her mother's marrying someone she's never met—and that she doesn't get a say?"
Sarisa's mouth parted. Her voice was quieter now. "She's still young—"
"She's not stupid."
"I didn't say she was."
"You didn't have to. You act like this won't affect her. Like this isn't going to rip her world in two."
Sarisa's voice cracked. "You think I want this?"
"I don't know what you want anymore!" Lara yelled.
Her voice echoed against the stone, sharp and furious.
Sarisa recoiled slightly.
And Lara hated herself for the flash of guilt that came with it.
"I didn't choose this," Sarisa said, her voice tight. "This isn't about want. This is about duty. Responsibility. Stability. Something Aliyah needs."
"What she needs is you. Not a stranger who gets to call himself her stepfather. Not some prepackaged prince with a wardrobe full of compliments and no idea how to handle her fire."
Sarisa's hands curled at her sides. "He's a respected leader. A scholar. He's not a fool."
"I don't care if he's carved from starlight and sings lullabies. He's not you. He's not us."
"You think I don't know that?" Sarisa whispered.
"Then why?"
"Because this is the life I was born into!"
"And I wasn't?"
Sarisa flinched.
Lara laughed bitterly. "Right. Of course. I forgot. I'm just the war captain. The flame-tongued, rule-breaking, inconvenient demon. You've been cleaning up my chaos for years, haven't you?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?"
Sarisa exhaled sharply, turning away.
The silence between them thickened. The wind picked up, lifting strands of Sarisa's hair and tossing them like threads of light.
Lara stared at her.
And then, softly, Sarisa said, "You'll be free now."
Lara blinked.
"What?"
Sarisa's voice was like frost. Controlled. Careful.
"You won't be tied to this place anymore. To this court. To me. You've always said you didn't belong here. Maybe now you'll finally be able to leave."
Lara took a step back.
As if struck.
"You think that's what I wanted?"
"I think that's what you needed."
Lara stared at her for a long, burning moment.
And something inside her broke.
"You don't get to tell me what I need."
"I'm trying to give you space—"
"I never asked for space, Sarisa!"
"You never asked for anything!" Sarisa cried, spinning around to face her. "You act like you're above it all—above court, above politics, above feelings. You joke. You tease. You disappear for days on missions and come back pretending nothing's changed. And when something does change, when I change, you look at me like I betrayed you!"
Lara's breath was ragged.
Sarisa was shaking now, fists clenched at her sides.
"You want the truth?" she asked.
"Please," Lara whispered.
"I hoped it would be you."
Lara froze.
Sarisa's voice cracked. "Every time my mother brought up marriage, I shut it down. Because I thought—maybe, one day—you'd say something. Do something. Want something."
"I—"
"But you never did."
Lara swallowed hard.
"I didn't know how."
Sarisa laughed, but it was hollow. "Of course you didn't."
Lara's voice trembled. "You think this is easy for me?"
"No. I think you've made it impossible for both of us."
Silence fell again.
This time, heavier.
Deadlier.
Lara stepped back, chest rising and falling.
She looked at Sarisa—really looked.
And for the first time in years, she didn't recognize her.
Not the Queen-to-be.
Not the girl she once trusted with her heart.
Just a stranger with her voice.
"I can't do this," Lara whispered.
Sarisa didn't reply.
Lara turned.
And left.
Not because she wanted to.
But because if she stayed she'd say something she couldn't take back.
And maybe she already had.