Two weeks later, Lara had reached a conclusion.
Wedding planning was war.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically. War.
There were battle lines, supply problems, hostile negotiations, spies disguised as seamstresses, and at least three separate factions arguing over flowers as if the wrong arrangement might collapse international peace.
Lara had fought monsters with six heads. She had crossed burning plains.
None of that had prepared her for invitation lists.
Her headache had become a permanent citizen behind her eyes.
That morning alone, she had been asked whether the ceremonial chairs should face east to honour old Celestian tradition or south to acknowledge the Demon Realm.
Then someone had presented her with eleven different shades of silver ribbon and expected her to understand why one was "too mournful" while another was "aggressively festive."
Lara had stared at them for so long that the decorator had slowly taken the samples away.
Sarisa, unfortunately, was handling it better.
Of course she was.
Sarisa had been raised in court. She understood the deadly language of table settings and could listen to nobles debate seating protocol without attempting murder. Lara suspected this was a magical ability no one had properly documented.
Right now, Sarisa was trapped in another council meeting about trade reforms, border access, and apparently whether demon engineers should be permitted to examine the Celestian transport network.
Lara had volunteered to stay out of it.
Not because she did not care.
Because if one more elder called demon technology "structurally vulgar," she was going to structurally throw him out of a window.
So she had retreated to one of the smaller palace salons, where Malvoria had found her sitting on a couch with three wedding catalogues open around her and a cold cloth pressed over her forehead.
Malvoria looked delighted.
"You look terrible," she said.
Lara lowered the cloth just enough to glare at her younger sister. "Thank you."
"I mean it lovingly."
"You have never meant anything lovingly in that tone."
Malvoria crossed the room and dropped into the chair opposite her, legs crossing elegantly. She had brought no papers, no assistant, no visible purpose.
That meant trouble.
Lara knew this because she had survived growing up with her.
"What do you want?" Lara asked.
"To speak with my beloved sister."
"No."
Malvoria placed a hand against her chest. "Cruel."
"You smiled when you walked in."
"I often smile."
"You smile before crimes."
"I also smile after crimes. It is important to enjoy the full process."
Lara put the cloth back over her eyes.
From somewhere near the window, a clock ticked with obnoxious serenity.
Malvoria waited.
Lara waited longer.
Eventually, Malvoria said, "So, have you thought about your rings?"
Lara pulled the cloth away.
"My what?"
"Your wedding rings."
There was a slight pause.
In Celestian, the word was different. Ceremonial bands, technically.
Alliances, some of the old court documents called them, though Lara had decided that sounded less like jewellery and more like a military treaty negotiated by fingers.
She sat up a little.
"I actually have."
Malvoria's eyebrows lifted.
That response had surprised her.
Good.
Lara took a moment before continuing. The idea had been growing quietly for days, protected from Sarisa, the wedding planners, and every court official who believed surprises required approval from twelve departments.
"I want something special," Lara said. "A mix of demon and Celestian culture."
Malvoria leaned forward, suddenly more interested.
"What sort of mix?"
"I haven't worked out every detail."
"Then you have thought about it emotionally and avoided the practical part."
"Shut up."
Malvoria smiled. "Continue."
Lara looked toward the closed salon doors.
Sarisa's meeting should last at least another hour, possibly two if Councilor Vaeris began speaking about ancient legal precedent. That man could turn one sentence into a season.
"I want to keep it secret from her," Lara said.
Malvoria's smile changed.
It became less sharp. Warmer, though Lara would sooner bite through steel than mention it.
"A surprise?"
"Yes."
"How romantic."
"Do not make it unbearable."
"I have said four words."
"And you managed."
Malvoria settled back again. "What do you want the rings to represent?"
Lara looked down at her hands.
Her own fingers were scarred. Fine pale lines crossed her knuckles, old marks from blades, claws, training, and a life spent touching dangerous things without hesitation.
Sarisa's hands were different. Elegant, graceful, often cold.
Yet those hands had also summoned chains strong enough to stop a queen, held frightened children, signed decrees that would change an entire realm, and reached for Lara again after every difficult moment.
"The demon part should be forged," Lara said slowly. "Not bought. In my family, ceremonial metal is meant to carry fire from the bloodline. It is heated with the wearer's magic during shaping."
Malvoria nodded. "Daemara bonding metal."
"Yes. But I don't want the rings to look entirely demonic."
"Because Sarisa would have to wear something made of black iron with spikes."
"Our ceremonial jewellery does not all have spikes."
"Most of yours does."
"That is because spikes are useful."
"For what?"
"Making people ask fewer questions."
Malvoria conceded that with a small tilt of her head.
Lara continued. "Celestian wedding bands use star-metal, don't they?"
"Some royal lines do."
"Sarisa's family did. Silver alloy drawn from fallen celestial fragments. It reflects magic rather than absorbing it."
Malvoria's eyes sharpened with understanding.
"You want both metals."
"Twisted together," Lara said. "Not one placed inside the other. Equal. The demon metal carrying fire. The Celestian metal carrying light."
She could see it already.
A dark band braided through silver, subtle rather than ornate. Something strong enough for Lara, elegant enough for Sarisa. Not a symbol of one realm swallowing the other.
A joining.
Two things remaining themselves while becoming impossible to separate.
Malvoria watched her for several seconds.
"That is disgustingly sentimental."
Lara pointed at her. "I knew you would ruin it."
"No, it is good." Malvoria grinned. "Horrible. Soft. Very unlike you."
"I am going to throw you through the wall."
"Will that help the headache?"
"Possibly."
Malvoria stood and began pacing slowly, thinking. "The metals cannot simply be combined in a normal forge. Star-metal becomes unstable around demonic blood-fire."
Lara frowned. "How unstable?"
"Explosive."
"Small explosive or palace-removal explosive?"
"That depends on the quality."
"Wonderful."
"But," Malvoria continued, "there is an old hybrid forge beneath the eastern mountain. It was used centuries ago when the Demon Realm and Celestia still exchanged sacred weapons."
Lara stared at her.
"You know of a forge that can do this?"
"Of course."
"And you waited until now to say it?"
"You had not asked."
"I spent four days looking through jewel catalogues."
"That sounds like a personal failing."
Lara picked up one of the catalogues and threw it.
Malvoria caught it without looking.
"Violence will wrinkle the pages."
"Good."
Malvoria tossed it onto the table. "The forge is dormant, but Veylira could probably open it. The real problem is finding enough genuine star-metal without alerting the Celestian treasury."
Lara leaned back, headache briefly forgotten.
"I don't want the council involved."
"Obviously."
"And I don't want Sarisa finding out."
"Less obvious. She notices everything."
"She notices everything political. Wedding things make her tired."
"That is because she is marrying you."
Lara ignored that. "Can it be done?"
Malvoria considered.
"Yes. But we will need help."
"From who?"
"Veylira, certainly. Possibly one of the old forge keepers. Raveth knows smugglers."
"Why does Raveth know smugglers?"
Malvoria looked genuinely puzzled. "Why wouldn't she?"
Fair.
Lara rubbed at her temple.
"This is becoming a criminal operation."
"It is a surprise wedding gift. Those are often adjacent."
"No, they are not."
"In this family, they are."
Lara wanted to argue.
Unfortunately, Malvoria was right.
The Daemaras had never done anything simply. Birthdays involved secret tunnels. Naming ceremonies involved political threats. Family dinners occasionally required battlefield medics.
A discreet illegal-metal operation was almost traditional.
Malvoria sat again, expression turning more thoughtful.
"What will be engraved inside?"
Lara blinked. "Engraved?"
"You cannot make symbolic interrealm rings and leave them blank. That would be lazy."
"I hadn't decided."
"Something romantic."
"I know."
"Something about fire and stars."
"That sounds obvious."
"Something about chains."
"Absolutely not."
Malvoria laughed.
Lara looked down again, imagining Sarisa slipping the ring onto her finger. Imagining the ceremony.
The silence before vows. Sarisa's silver hair beneath Celestian light. The mating mark visible at her throat. Their daughter watching. Neris safe among family.
Two months had seemed reasonable in the tribunal hall.
Now it felt impossibly close.
"I want it to say something only she will understand," Lara said.
Malvoria studied her.
Then, mercifully, she did not tease.
"You will think of it."
The salon door opened.
Lara and Malvoria both turned.
Sarisa stood there, looking exhausted but beautiful, several documents tucked under one arm.
Her gaze moved from Lara to Malvoria.
Then to the wedding catalogues scattered across the couch.
"What are you two plotting?"
"Nothing," Lara said immediately.
At the same time, Malvoria said, "Jewellery theft."
Lara slowly turned her head.
Malvoria smiled.
Sarisa narrowed her eyes.
Lara rose, crossed the room, and took the documents from Sarisa before she could inspect either of them too closely.
"How was the meeting, my fiancée?"
Sarisa's suspicion softened at once.
It always did when Lara used that word.
"Long," Sarisa said. "Painfully long."
Lara kissed her forehead.
Behind them, Malvoria made a gagging noise.
Lara raised one hand without looking and showed her a single finger.
Sarisa sighed, though a smile tugged at her mouth.
Lara wrapped an arm around her and guided her away from the room, already planning fire, star-metal, secret forges, and whatever bribes would be required to stop Raveth from telling everyone.