For one dangerous second, Lara genuinely thought she was hallucinating.
The dungeon door had opened, and a guard had stepped inside carrying a tray, which in itself wasn't strange.
What was strange was the scent. Beneath the leather, metal, corridor dust, and the stale smell of the lower palace, there it was. Faint, impossible, unmistakable.
Sarisa.
Lara blinked hard.
The guard was ugly as sin. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, forgettable in the particular way palace guards were trained to be. But the scent was wrong.
Completely, utterly wrong. It made no sense. How could such an ugly guard smell like jasmine, sunlight, stubbornness, and the exact kind of trouble that had ruined Lara's entire life?
Lara stared.
The guard kept walking toward the cell, tray steady in both hands.
No. Not a guard.
Sarisa.
Lara sat up too quickly, chains scraping, bruised ribs protesting so sharply she almost swore. "What the hell—"
The disguised guard glanced once over each shoulder, then stepped fully into the cell's little circle of torchlight.
And yes. There. In the eyes. In the way the mouth held itself when trying not to smile.
Lara's heart did something deeply embarrassing.
"Sarisa," she hissed, half furious, half relieved enough to choke on it. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous."
Sarisa shut the cell gate softly behind her, then looked at Lara properly for the first time.
The anger in her face vanished.
"Oh," she said quietly.
Lara almost laughed at that. Of all things, that was what finally undid the future queen: not chains, not scandal, not public humiliation. Bruises.
She probably looked awful. The cut at her mouth had dried badly. One cheek was swollen. Her wrists were red and raw where the chains bit. The dungeon light made everything worse, flatter, more brutal.
Sarisa set the tray down on the floor without taking her eyes off her. "They hit you."
Lara shrugged one shoulder, trying for dismissive and failing because every muscle in her body felt like it had been hammered into place overnight. "A little."
Sarisa gave her a look so flat it might have frozen wine.
"Fine," Lara admitted. "More than a little. But I've had worse."
That, somehow, made it worse.
Sarisa moved quickly then, kneeling in front of her before Lara could protest.
Up close the disguise was even stranger, all wrong lines and borrowed angles, but the scent was still Sarisa and the hands reaching for her face were still Sarisa and that was enough to make the whole surreal mess feel painfully real.
"Hold still," Sarisa murmured.
Lara watched her, not moving, while Sarisa laid one palm lightly against the bruise on her cheek. Celestian magic rose softly, pale and silver-blue, nothing like demon fire.
It felt cool where it touched, sinking under the skin with a clean, steady pressure. The swelling eased first, then the throbbing. Not gone completely, but softened enough for Lara to breathe without wanting to punch the wall again.
"That," Lara said, "is a very attractive use of magic."
Sarisa's mouth twitched, but her eyes stayed on her work. "Don't flirt with me while you look like this."
Lara smiled despite herself. "I could say the same to you, guard."
At that Sarisa actually huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh. She moved lower, fingers brushing carefully over the cut at Lara's lip, then the purple bruising on her jaw.
Lara's thoughts were a complete disaster.
She should have been focused on practical things. On how Sarisa got in. On whether someone would notice she was gone.
On the fact that the queen would probably develop a personal relationship with murder if she found her daughter in a dungeon cell healing the demon she wanted exiled.
Instead Lara's entire mind had narrowed to: Sarisa is here. Sarisa came for me.
It was worse than pain. Better than pain. More dangerous than anything.
Sarisa shifted closer to reach the bruises at Lara's ribs. Her stolen guard's uniform pulled strangely over her shoulders, the sleeves slightly too long, the collar too stiff. Lara eyed it with deep suspicion.
"I still can't get over this," she muttered.
Sarisa looked up. "What?"
"You disguised yourself as the world's ugliest guard."
Sarisa blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying. Elysia could have made you a handsome one."
Despite everything, Sarisa laughed, brief and bright, and the sound hit Lara right in the chest. "This from a woman in chains."
"Yes. Even in chains I have standards."
Sarisa pressed her hand to Lara's side and magic spread there too, easing the ache in her ribs. "You are impossible."
"You're the one who came down here dressed like a badly drawn soldier."
"That is enough."
"It really isn't. You smell like yourself, by the way. That's how I knew."
Sarisa stilled. "You knew from my scent?"
Lara gave her a look. "Of course I did."
Something flickered across Sarisa's face at that. Not embarrassment exactly. Something softer. More dangerous.
Her hands moved to Lara's wrists next, fingers carefully examining the abrasions where the anti-demon chains had rubbed the skin raw. The sight of them made her mouth flatten again.
"I hate this," she said, very quietly.
Lara's voice gentled without her permission. "I know."
"They had no right."
"No," Lara agreed. "They didn't."
Sarisa lifted her head then, and there was something fierce in her eyes now beneath the ugly guard glamour. "I'm going to get you out."
Lara wanted that. Gods, she wanted that. But more than that, she wanted Sarisa safe, and those two things had never once in their lives been simple together.
"Not like this," Lara said. "Not today."
Sarisa's jaw tightened. "Do not tell me to be reasonable right now."
"I'm not. I'm telling you if your mother catches you in here, she'll use it."
"She already is using everything."
"Yeah." Lara's gaze dropped briefly to the tray on the floor. "Which is why you sneaking into my cell dressed like a reject from the palace watch is both incredibly stupid and annoyingly brave."
Sarisa looked offended. "I resent both halves of that sentence."
Lara leaned forward as much as the chains allowed. "I know."
There was a pause.
Then Sarisa reached out and touched her face again, not to heal this time. Just touched. Thumb against her cheekbone, fingers resting lightly along her jaw as if reassuring herself Lara was actually here and not broken beyond repair.
Lara turned her head just enough to press a kiss into the center of her palm.
Sarisa's breath caught.
For one suspended second neither moved. The torch crackled. Somewhere far beyond the dungeon walls a door slammed. The whole world narrowed to that touch.
Then Sarisa stood, stepped into the tiny space allowed by the chains, and bent to kiss her.
It was not careful.
It was not sensible.
It was Sarisa's mouth warm against hers, tasting faintly of tea and anger and relief. Lara made a low sound in her throat and kissed her back instantly, like breathing, like instinct.
The chains clinked when she tried to reach for her, and Sarisa answered by cupping the back of her neck, angling the kiss deeper, softer, longer.
Lara felt the whole miserable dungeon drop away.
When they broke apart, it was only because breathing had become relevant again.
Sarisa kept her forehead against Lara's for one heartbeat, then another.
"You idiot," she whispered, and there was no heat in it. "You stupid, impossible woman."
Lara smiled against the corner of her mouth. "You came all the way down here to say that?"
"I came all the way down here," Sarisa murmured, "because you were hungry and bruised and alone."
That nearly undid her more than the kiss.
Lara swallowed once, hard, and looked at her properly.
Sarisa, in a stolen face and armor that did not belong to her, standing in a dungeon cell with healing magic still glowing faintly on her fingertips, looking at Lara like she was furious and terrified and hers all at once.
Yeah, Lara thought wildly. I'm never recovering from this.