The silverware was barely cleared when Sarisa excused herself. She left the glowing warmth of the dining hall the laughter and the clatter of dishes.
The night air was cool, the castle hushed except for the echo of her own steps.
She knew her mother's patterns. After such dinners, the Queen would retire to her office a sanctum of books, private ledgers, and a writing desk littered with missives.
Sarisa's hand hesitated at the door, but only for a breath. She knocked once, twice. Didn't wait for a reply.
Inside, her mother sat in a high-backed chair beside the window, her robes of state exchanged for a simple gown, a heavy book open in her lap.
Candlelight turned the Queen's hair molten white and cast her features in patient, regal shadow.
She did not look up. "You're persistent, Sarisa. But then, you always were."
Sarisa stepped in, closing the door behind her. "I need to talk to you."
The Queen turned a page. "So talk."
Sarisa stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, every inch the frustrated daughter and the would-be queen. She studied her mother, the way the lines at the corner of her mouth deepened when she was determined not to be moved.
"You sent Lara away," Sarisa said. "Don't pretend it was just a normal mission."
Her mother set a delicate silver bookmark between the pages and finally looked up, violet eyes unreadable. "Lara is a soldier. It's her role. There are bandits—she will deal with them."
"There are rumors of a rogue dragon in that region." Sarisa's tone sharpened. "You know as well as I do what that means. The last time there was a rogue dragon, half a village burned."
The Queen closed her book, setting it aside. "Lara is strong. She is more than capable. In fact, I recall her boasting about it quite recently. Did you not?"
"She's strong," Sarisa said quietly. "But she's not invincible. And you didn't have to send her. There are other captains. Other commanders."
Her mother's lips pursed in a slow, considering smile. "Are you so worried for her safety—or merely uncomfortable to find yourself alone with your fiancé for once?"
Sarisa bristled, feeling the heat rise behind her eyes. "That's not fair."
"No," the Queen agreed, "it's not. Nor is it fair to Vaelen, or to your daughter, or to me. You said you would try with him. I am giving you the space to do so. Lara thrives in chaos. She needs an enemy, a battlefield, a wound to lick. You, my dear, need to focus."
Sarisa tried to measure her voice, but it trembled with emotion. "Lara isn't just a distraction. She's Aliyah's mother. She's—she's family. She belongs here."
"She belongs to war, Sarisa. You know this. Even when she's home, her mind is on the next mission. She cannot help herself."
The Queen gestured, graceful and cold. "And if I gave you the choice, would you go after her? Would you risk everything you've worked for—your future, Aliyah's future—just because Lara can't stand to stay still?"
Sarisa's jaw tightened. "Why can't you just admit what you're doing? You're afraid she'll pull me back. You want her out of the way, so you can have your tidy, Celestian solution. So Vaelen and I can parade around and give you the perfect royal family."
The Queen did not deny it. She stood, her own presence filling the room like winter's chill.
"You said you wanted this. A chance. Space to try with Vaelen. To see if you could build something real. I am simply helping you keep your word. Lara's presence unsettles everything—she makes a mess of order, she upends every plan."
Sarisa's fists clenched. "Maybe some plans need upending."
"Not mine," the Queen said, her voice hard. "I will not let my daughter's reign begin in scandal. You have given enough chaos to this family already. Vaelen is a good man. He's loyal, competent, and—unlike Lara—knows how to stay."
Sarisa's voice broke. "Lara is trying."
"She is not trying with you, not the way you need. Or have you forgotten how many nights she's gone, how many times you've explained her absence to Aliyah? You can't live on hope and longing, Sarisa. You can't make a home with someone always at the door."
Sarisa stared at her mother, the weight of years pressing down.
The Queen approached, setting a cool hand on Sarisa's shoulder. "I'm not your enemy, Sarisa. I want you to have something stable. Something that will last. Lara can't give you that—not really. She's a demon. She's drawn to the fire. Let her chase her monsters. You—stay here. Build your peace."
Sarisa's voice was almost a whisper. "You're wrong about her."
The Queen's expression softened for just a moment, almost pitying. "Maybe. But I'm not wrong about you. You need to be brave, Sarisa. Brave enough to let go."
Sarisa stepped back, shaking her head. "I thought you wanted me to be strong. To make my own choices."
Her mother arched an elegant brow. "I do. But strength is knowing when to let the past go."
Sarisa felt something cold settle in her chest—a mourning for a future she'd glimpsed and lost, over and over.
"You can control everything, can't you? The council, the ceremonies, the marriage, even where Lara sleeps at night."
The Queen's smile was razor-thin. "That is a queen's burden. And soon, it will be yours."
Sarisa stood for a long moment, trembling with frustration, anger, and the ache of helplessness.
She wanted to scream that she was not her mother. That her heart beat to a different drum, that her life would not be ruled by calculation and containment.
But her mother's hand was warm, heavy with the authority of a lifetime. Sarisa looked down, teeth gritted.
"I will do my duty," she said, her voice like glass.
The Queen nodded. "Good. Take this time, Sarisa. Learn to let Lara go. She is not your future."
Sarisa didn't answer. She turned, leaving the office before the tears could fall. The corridor was empty and cold, her footsteps the only sound. She pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself.
Outside the high windows, the moon was rising, casting silver across the lawns. Somewhere beyond the walls, Lara was preparing for battle, drawn to danger like a moth to flame.
Sarisa swallowed the ache. If her mother wanted her to learn to let go, she would. But she would do it on her own terms, not the Queen's.
Let Lara go? Sarisa's hands shook.