Sarisa drew back just far enough to breathe, though not far enough to feel distant. The torchlight caught on the borrowed guard's collar and the edges of the illusion, but to Lara none of that mattered anymore.
All she could see was Sarisa kneeling in front of her in a dungeon cell, having somehow made the entire ruined world narrow down to this one impossible act of defiance.
Then Sarisa seemed to remember why she had come.
"The food," she said softly, almost annoyed with herself.
Lara let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. "Right. Food. That thing ordinary people need to survive."
Sarisa shot her a look and reached for the tray. She pulled it closer between them and began uncovering the dishes one by one.
The smell alone hit Lara like a blow: warm broth, fresh bread, meat pie, fruit. Real food. Not whatever stale punishment rations the queen had likely intended for her later, if at all.
It made her abruptly, viciously aware of how hungry she was.
Sarisa saw it in her face at once.
"You haven't eaten since yesterday," she said, voice tightening again.
Lara shrugged one shoulder, as much as the chains allowed. "I've gone longer."
"That is not the point."
"It sort of is, in a dungeon."
Sarisa ignored her and tore a piece of bread free, dipping it into the broth to soften it. When she held it up, Lara just looked at it for a second.
Then at her.
"What?"
Lara's mouth twitched. "You're feeding me."
"Yes."
"In chains."
"Yes."
"In a cell."
Sarisa's expression flattened. "Lara."
That was enough to make her open her mouth and let Sarisa press the bread gently past her lips. The broth was still warm.
The bread soaked through with salt and herbs and something that might, under different circumstances, have tasted like comfort rather than heartbreak.
Lara chewed slowly, watching Sarisa the whole time.
Sarisa tore another piece. "Don't start."
"I didn't say anything."
"You're about to."
Lara swallowed. "You know, if someone walked in right now, they'd think this was very compromising."
Sarisa's eyes flashed. "If someone walks in right now, I will make them disappear."
Lara gave her a deeply approving look. "That's my girl."
Sarisa almost smiled and fed her another bite.
For a minute or two, the cell quieted. No sharp words. No politics. Just Sarisa kneeling in front of her, alternating bread and broth with all the care of someone tending a wound.
The strangeness of it should have been humiliating. Lara had never needed help eating in her life. She had fought with broken ribs and blood in her mouth and still managed to snatch stolen meat off a fire when she was younger than Aliyah.
But this was Sarisa.
And with Sarisa, humiliation had a way of becoming something softer, more dangerous. Intimacy disguised as practicality. Care offered with irritated hands and tired eyes.
After three bites, Lara looked down at the tray and then back at Sarisa.
"You too."
Sarisa blinked. "What?"
Lara nodded toward the food. "Eat. I'm sure you didn't eat before."
Sarisa opened her mouth to deny it, which told Lara everything she needed to know.
"There it is," Lara said. "That face."
"I had breakfast."
"I'm sure you didn't eat much."
"I'm not the one in chains."
"No, you're the one who forgets food exists when you're stressed." Lara tilted her head. "Eat."
Sarisa huffed, but there was no force in it. "You are impossible even starving."
"Eat, princess."
Sarisa gave her one long, exasperated stare, then picked up the cup of broth and took a small sip. Lara watched until she swallowed.
"There," Sarisa said. "Satisfied?"
"Not remotely."
That earned her a glare. Lara grinned.
Sarisa tore off another piece of bread for her, but Lara didn't take it immediately. "You first."
"Lara—"
"Don't make me use my dungeon voice."
Sarisa actually laughed, quiet and unwilling, and took a bite just to stop him from saying whatever terrible thing she was sure was coming next. Lara felt absurdly pleased with herself.
"That's better," she said.
Sarisa chewed, rolled her eyes, and then fed her the next piece.
They settled into an odd rhythm after that: two bites for Lara, one for Sarisa.
Broth traded between them. A sliver of fruit pressed into Lara's mouth with fingers that still carried the cool trace of healing magic.
For a little while, the dungeon became less a place of punishment and more some private, impossible pocket of time stolen from the rest of the world.
Lara's body began remembering itself as food hit her stomach. The ache in her head eased slightly. The furious edge of hunger softened enough for other sensations to return: the bite of the chains, the lingering soreness in her ribs, the warmth of Sarisa kneeling too close.
When Sarisa lifted the cup toward her again, Lara caught her wrist gently.
"Enough," she said. "You eat the rest."
Sarisa frowned. "There's still plenty."
"And I know exactly how much you've had. Which is basically nothing."
Sarisa glanced down at the tray as if genuinely surprised by the evidence of her own neglect.
Lara let go of her wrist only so she could gesture to the food. "Come on."
Sarisa hesitated, then took another sip of broth, followed by a bite of the pie. She chewed more slowly this time, looking anywhere but directly at Lara.
Lara watched her for a moment and then said, more quietly, "Thank you."
Sarisa looked up.
Lara rarely said that. Not properly. Not without some joke hung on it to make it easier to carry. But now the words sat between them with all the weight they deserved.
"For the food," Lara added. "For the healing. For sneaking into a dungeon dressed like the ugliest guard in the palace."
That finally drew a real smile from Sarisa, brief and bright. "You're still obsessed with that."
"I'm offended on behalf of your cheekbones."
Sarisa shook her head, but the smile lingered. "Elysia said it would work."
"It does. Unfortunately."
A softer silence followed.
Sarisa picked at the bread and then asked, very carefully, "Does anything hurt badly enough that I missed it?"
Lara thought about lying. Thought about saying no, just to keep that line of worry from deepening in Sarisa's face.
But after everything else, after the queen and the chains and the hunger and the fact that Sarisa had come down here anyway, lying felt cheap.
"My ribs," Lara admitted. "A bit. And my shoulder."
Sarisa set the food aside immediately. "Show me."
Lara lifted one brow. "You're very bossy for someone disguised as palace furniture."
"Lara."
"Right. Sorry." She shifted as much as the chains allowed, wincing despite herself. "There."
Sarisa moved closer again, one hand steady at Lara's side as the other lit with that pale silver glow. The magic slid under bruised skin, easing pain in careful pulses. Lara closed her eyes for a second and let herself have it.
Have the food. Have the touch. Have Sarisa here.
When she opened them again, Sarisa was still watching her with that expression she had no armor against: fierce, worried, too tender for the place they were in.
"Thank you princess." Lara murmured.