A bit of adventure, my ass.
They had been hiking for three hours.
Three.
Sarisa knew this because she had started counting the minutes after the first hour, when Lara had said, with criminal confidence, "We're almost there."
At the second hour, Lara had said, "Just a little farther."
At some point after that, she had committed the unforgivable offense of saying, "You're doing great," which made Sarisa consider whether mating bonds could survive homicide.
The path was beautiful. That was the worst part.
If it had been ugly, Sarisa could have hated it properly.
Instead, the trail wound through the demon realm's eastern wildlands, a place that looked as if the earth had been painted by someone who adored drama.
Black stone rose in jagged ribs along the mountainside, veined with glowing red mineral lines like slow fire trapped under glass.
Dark trees grew from impossible angles, their leaves deep purple on one side and silver on the other, shimmering whenever the wind moved through them.
Strange flowers bloomed in clusters along the path, their petals bright as embers, and tiny winged creatures flickered between them like sparks that had gotten bored and learned to fly.
Somewhere far below, the capital had vanished behind layers of forest and mist.
Sarisa hated how beautiful it was.
She also hated her boots.
"Lara," she said, stopping in the middle of the path.
Lara, several steps ahead, turned with that infuriatingly healthy, not-even-breathing-hard expression. "Yes, my love?"
Sarisa pointed at her. "Do not 'my love' me right now."
Lara's mouth twitched.
That was dangerous.
"Are your feet hurting?" Lara asked.
"My feet are plotting treason."
"We're almost there."
Sarisa stared at her.
Lara made the terrible mistake of looking sincere.
"You said that two hours ago."
"I was encouraging you."
"You were lying."
"I was strategically motivating you."
"That is lying with better posture."
Lara laughed, and Sarisa wanted to kiss her and push her off the path at the same time, which was becoming a worrying pattern in their relationship.
The mating mark at Sarisa's neck pulsed faintly, warm beneath the collar of her traveling cloak. It seemed to enjoy Lara's amusement.
Treacherous magical thing. Sarisa pressed two fingers against it as if she could scold it into neutrality.
Lara noticed and softened immediately.
That was the other problem.
She was impossible to stay angry with once she stopped being smug.
"Do you want me to carry you?" Lara asked.
Sarisa lifted her chin. "Absolutely not."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"I can."
"I know you can. That is not the issue."
"The issue is pride?"
"The issue is that I refuse to be carried like luggage after you tricked me into a mountain pilgrimage."
"It's not a pilgrimage."
"There are rocks, suffering, and lies. It counts."
Lara grinned.
Sarisa turned away and began walking again because if she stayed still, Lara might actually convince her to be carried, and then she would lose a battle she had invented herself.
The path grew steeper ahead, curving around a black ridge where red moss glowed softly beneath the shade.
The air was cooler here, touched with something mineral and wild. It filled her lungs in a way palace air never had, sharp and clean and almost sweet.
She refused to enjoy it loudly.
Lara fell into step beside her.
For a while, they walked in silence. Not an uncomfortable one. Sarisa had discovered there were many types of silence with Lara.
The heavy kind, when both of them were thinking of everything they had survived. The heated kind, when words had become unnecessary and dangerous.
And this one, softer, threaded with birdsong and breath and the crunch of boots on stone.
Still, after another ten minutes, Sarisa's patience began to die again.
"How far?"
Lara looked toward the bend ahead. "A few minutes."
Sarisa stopped.
Lara stopped too.
Sarisa slowly turned her head. "Do you understand that words have meaning?"
"Yes."
"Do you?"
"Mostly."
"A few minutes," Sarisa said, "means a few minutes. It does not mean another era of my life."
Lara stepped closer, eyes bright with barely hidden laughter. "You're very dramatic."
"I was stolen from my wedding, mated, taken to a city, fed, kissed, and now dragged into the wilderness. I have earned drama."
"That is fair."
"Don't say fair like that."
"How should I say it?"
"Regretfully."
Lara lowered her voice with exaggerated solemnity. "That is fair."
Sarisa swatted her arm.
Lara caught her hand and kissed her knuckles before she could pull away. The gesture was too quick, too sweet, and thoroughly unfair.
Sarisa narrowed her eyes. "That will not work."
"It already did."
"It did not."
"Your shoulders dropped."
"They did not."
"They did."
Sarisa resumed walking with great dignity. "I despise you."
"You adore me."
"I am reviewing the contract."
"You signed in blood."
"That was before the mountain."
Lara laughed again, and this time Sarisa could not stop the smile from touching her mouth.
She looked away quickly, toward the strange forest, pretending interest in a tree whose bark shimmered like polished coal.
The trail finally leveled out after another stretch of climbing. Sarisa noticed it before Lara said anything.
The air changed first. It became wider somehow, less enclosed by trees and stone. Light spilled ahead, pale gold and blue, cutting through the darkness of the forest.
The sound came next: water. Not a river, not exactly. A deep, constant roar softened by distance.
Lara slowed.
Sarisa forgot her complaints for a moment.
"What is that?"
Lara's expression shifted into something secretive again, but this time softer. "The reason I dragged you here."
"If it is another bakery, I will forgive you."
"It is not."
"Unfortunate."
They passed beneath a natural arch of black stone, and the world opened.
Sarisa stopped dead.
Before them stretched an enormous hidden valley, cradled between mountains of obsidian and red-veined rock.
At the center of it, a waterfall poured from a cliff so high its top disappeared into mist. The water was not clear.
It shimmered silver-blue, threaded with faint gold light, falling in a vast curtain into a lake below that glowed softly from beneath its surface. Around the lake grew trees unlike any Sarisa had seen: tall, white-barked, their leaves luminous in shades of violet, emerald, and deep red.
In the distance, small ruins stood half swallowed by flowers, their arches carved with old demon runes.
A flock of dark birds wheeled above the water, their wings flashing copper when they turned.
Sarisa could not speak.
The whole place felt untouched. Not abandoned. Protected. A secret held between mountains.
Lara came to stand beside her, quiet now.
"I told you it would be worth it."
Sarisa should have said something sharp. Something about the three hours of betrayal. Something about lies disguised as encouragement.
Instead she whispered, "Lara."
"I know."
"It's…"
"Beautiful?"
Sarisa nodded slowly. "Yes."
Lara looked at the valley, but Sarisa could feel her attention. Warm. Waiting.
"This place is called Veyr's Hollow," Lara said.
"Old demon sanctuary. Before the capital was what it is now, people came here to hide during wars. Later, couples started coming here before mating. Or after. Depends on the family."
Sarisa turned to her. "You brought me to a mating sanctuary?"
Lara's confidence faltered for the first time that morning. Just slightly.
"I wanted you to see it," she said. "Since we did things a little… urgently."
Sarisa stared at her.
Lara rubbed the back of her neck. "I know we already mated. Properly. Fully. But this place is part of the older tradition. You bring your mate here and make a private vow. Not blood. Not magic. Just words. Something only the two of you hear."
The irritation from the hike melted so quickly Sarisa almost disliked herself for it.
Almost.
She looked back at the valley, at the glowing lake, at the ruins and the waterfall and the light scattered through mist like powdered stars.
All morning she had thought Lara was being ridiculous. She had thought this was another reckless adventure, another of Lara's impossible ideas shaped by muscle and charm and very poor distance estimates.
But Lara had brought her here because this mattered.
Because the ritual had not been enough for her.
Because love, for Lara, was never just hunger or possession or rescue. It was effort.
It was hidden houses and cooked meals and mountains climbed before noon because some ancient place deserved to witness what they were.
Sarisa blinked hard.
Lara noticed at once. "Are you crying?"
"No."
"You are."
"I'm sweating from my eyes because someone made me climb for three hours."
Lara's smile trembled between laughter and tenderness. "Ah. My mistake."
Sarisa turned to face her fully. "You could have told me."
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"It was. I was very surprised by the suffering."
"I meant this."
Sarisa let out a soft laugh and stepped closer. "You are terrible at explaining your romantic plans."
"I know."
"You're lucky they are good plans."
Lara's gaze warmed. "Good enough?"
Sarisa looked at the valley, then at Lara, then reached for her hand.
"Good enough," she said, "that I may forgive the mountain."
Lara lifted their joined hands and kissed her fingers. "Generous."
"Do not get used to it."
"Never."
They walked down together toward the glowing lake, slower now. Sarisa's feet still hurt. Her legs were tired. Her hair had escaped its pins, and her cloak had gathered dust at the hem.
But the valley waited below like a secret blessing.