The afternoon's light was gentle, gilding the glass of Sarisa's office with honey. She was supposed to be focused on the pile of diplomatic dispatches in front of her—requests, petitions, subtle threats disguised as invitations.
But her mind kept drifting to the southern islands, to the laughter and the taste of salt on Lara's skin, to the bracelets hidden beneath her sleeve.
A knock at the door jolted her back to the present.
Before she could answer, the door swung open and Elysia swept in, a silver tea tray balanced on one hand. Her hair was immaculate, her eyes aglow with barely contained mischief.
"Tea time," Elysia announced, shutting the door behind her. There was a faint click—Sarisa looked up in time to see Elysia turn the key in the lock and slip it into her pocket.
Sarisa arched an eyebrow, lips twitching. "Are we being held hostage?"
"Only by the pursuit of pleasure," Elysia replied serenely, setting the tray down with a flourish.
She poured two cups, the steam rising in fragrant swirls. "Besides, I have a special delivery for you. Consider it a royal blessing."
Sarisa eyed her suspiciously. "If it's another stack of council minutes—"
"Oh, it's much more exciting than that." Elysia produced a slim, elegant box from her satchel and slid it across the desk.
"New arrival. Fresh from the workshop. Limited edition, demon-proof, ultra-enhanced. I had to fight Malvoria for the last prototype."
It took Sarisa a second to process what she was seeing. The box was embossed with a discreet little sigil—a sun entwined with a flame.
She nearly choked on her tea. "Elysia, is that—?"
"Magic condoms," Elysia confirmed, beaming. "With double enchantments. Improved sensitivity, hexproof, impossible to 'accidentally' puncture. And before you ask: Yes, I know you and Lara burned through the entire box during your little southern 'diplomatic tour.'"
Sarisa covered her face with one hand, heat crawling up her neck. "Gods, does everyone know?"
"Well, everyone who matters." Elysia plucked a biscuit from the tray and bit into it, utterly unbothered. "Your secret's safe with me and Malvoria. Unless you want a restock for the entire palace, in which case I can start distributing them at breakfast."
"You wouldn't dare."
Elysia's grin was wicked. "I would, and you know it. But seriously—thirty in a week? You two are legends. I think you broke Malvoria's personal record. She was very put out."
Sarisa groaned, rubbing her temples. "I'm never going to live this down."
"Probably not," Elysia agreed cheerfully, refilling their cups.
"But at least you're getting some. Most of the court would sell their souls for even one night of that kind of fun. And with a demon, no less. You know what they say about demon stamina?"
Sarisa tried to look dignified and failed. "Don't you have anything better to do than manage my love life?"
"Nope. I consider it a royal duty. Besides, someone needs to look out for you." Elysia's tone shifted, just a little. "Speaking of which—are you still planning to marry Vaelen?"
The question hung in the air, sudden and sharp. Sarisa went very still, fingers tightening around her teacup.
"I… don't know," she admitted after a beat. "He's kind. He's reliable. He'd make a good consort. And it would make everything so much simpler."
"But?" Elysia prodded, pouring herself a third cup.
Sarisa stared at the steam. "But it wouldn't be—us. Not the way it is with Lara. I know what's expected of me. I know what the court wants, what my mother wants, what's safe for Aliyah. I just—" She bit her lip, voice dropping.
"What if it doesn't last, Elysia? Lara's… She's chaos. She runs when things get hard. I'm afraid she'll leave again, like she always does."
Elysia's gaze softened, all traces of mischief fading. She reached across the desk, covering Sarisa's hand with hers.
"Lara's never had a reason to stay, not really," Elysia said gently.
"You two have been through hell. But she's still here, isn't she? She came back. Again and again. Sometimes love is messy. Sometimes it's stupid. But it's not supposed to be safe, Sarisa."
Sarisa's eyes burned. She blinked, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
"Vaelen is…easy. He's never made me cry. He's never made me want to tear my hair out, or laugh so hard my sides ache. He's never made me feel like the world could collapse and I'd still be okay, just because I'm not alone."
Elysia squeezed her hand. "Then why are you even considering him?"
"Because I'm scared," Sarisa whispered. "Scared of what it would mean if I chose Lara. Of the court, of my mother, of losing everything I've worked for. What if I pick Lara and she leaves anyway?"
Elysia was quiet for a moment, swirling the tea in her cup. "I married Malvoria because she threatened to kill my father, you know. I hated her at first. But she never left. Not once. And now—well, you've seen us."
Sarisa managed a faint smile. "You're happy."
"Disgustingly so. And you could be too. You just have to decide what you want, Sarisa. Not what's safe, not what's expected. Just…what you want."
Sarisa shook her head, looking out the window. "I wish it were that easy."
"It isn't. But you're the future queen. The world bends for you. Don't forget that."
For a while, they sat in companionable silence, sipping tea and letting the weight of unspoken possibilities settle between them. Elysia, always perceptive, didn't push. She just let Sarisa think, let her feel, let her ache.
Finally, Elysia stood, smoothing her gown. "The box is for you, by the way. Just in case you and Lara want to make more history."
Sarisa snorted. "If Malvoria catches you giving these out, she'll banish you."
Elysia winked. "Let her try. She needs me too much." At the door, she paused, looking back over her shoulder.
"For what it's worth, Sarisa, I think you already know what you want. You're just waiting for permission."
She slipped out, closing the door behind her, leaving Sarisa with her tea, her thoughts, and the little enchanted box—more symbol than secret, promise and risk in equal measure.
Sarisa stared at it for a long time, the ghost of Elysia's words echoing in her mind.
What do you want?
What will you choose?