The wedding rings were perfect.
Lara hated that word.
Perfect sounded fragile. Untouchable. The sort of thing people whispered in museums before placing a rope around it and forbidding anyone from breathing too hard.
But the rings were perfect.
They rested on a square of midnight velvet inside the old forge chamber, glowing beneath firelight that came from no ordinary flame.
The forge itself had been awakened only three weeks earlier, after Veylira had broken six ancient seals, Malvoria had insulted the seventh, and Raveth had suggested hitting the entire mountain with a hammer.
The final method had been more dignified.
Barely.
Now the twin bands lay cooling before Lara.
The demon metal was dark, almost black, but streaked with deep red when the light struck it.
Celestian star-metal twisted through it in slender silver paths, not wrapped around the darkness or buried beneath it, but braided equally through the band.
Fire and starlight.
Neither surrendering.
Neither swallowing the other.
The metals had fused so cleanly that they looked born together.
Lara stood beside the forge keeper with her arms folded, trying to look critical rather than overwhelmed.
She failed.
"They're beautiful," she said.
The forge keeper, an ancient demon woman named Ilyra, made a dissatisfied noise.
Lara glanced at her. "That sounded like disagreement."
"They are not beautiful."
Lara frowned.
Ilyra lifted one ring carefully with black metal tongs. "They are stronger than beautiful."
That was an extremely demon answer.
Lara liked it.
The engraving inside Sarisa's ring was nearly invisible unless held under moonlight.
Where you stand, I stay.
Inside Lara's ring, the answering words had been carved beneath a line of silver.
Where you burn, I return.
It had taken Lara nine nights to decide on the words.
Malvoria had offered alternatives.
Most of them involved conquest.
Raveth had suggested, Legally trapped forever.
Veylira had suggested removing Raveth from the discussion.
Lara reached toward Sarisa's ring, stopping before touching it.
"Is it safe now?"
Ilyra stared at her as though Lara had asked whether a sword was edible. "It is cooling."
"That means no?"
"It means touch it if you wish to lose the skin from your fingers."
Lara withdrew her hand. "Useful clarification."
The forge door opened behind them.
Malvoria entered first, dressed far too elegantly for a mountain chamber full of smoke. Raveth followed carrying a bottle of something that smelled violently alcoholic.
Lara looked between them.
"No."
Malvoria paused. "We have not said anything."
"You came together."
"That is not a crime."
"It usually becomes one."
Raveth held up the bottle. "Celebration?"
"It is not even midday."
"That has never stopped alcohol."
Lara pointed toward the door. "I have my final suit fitting."
Malvoria smiled.
That smile made Lara instantly uneasy.
"Yes," Malvoria said. "We know."
"You are not coming."
"We are already here."
"That is not the same thing."
"It is remarkably similar."
Raveth approached the velvet box, leaning over the rings. Her expression softened for a rare and brief moment.
"These are good."
Lara narrowed her eyes. "Good?"
"Very good."
"You called a torture blade exquisite last month."
"It had excellent balance."
Malvoria bent closer to inspect the rings. "Sarisa will cry."
Lara's stomach tightened.
"You think?"
"Definitely."
"Good crying?"
"No, terrible crying. She will throw herself from the altar."
Lara stared at her.
Malvoria sighed. "Of course good crying."
"I knew that."
"You looked ready to fight the ring."
Lara picked up the empty velvet box lid and considered throwing it.
Ilyra placed herself between Lara and the rings without looking up. "Violence elsewhere."
"See?" Malvoria said. "Even the forge keeper knows you."
Lara exhaled through her nose.
The suit fitting.
She should leave now. Immediately. Before Malvoria found a new way to damage her peace.
The wedding was only two weeks away.
Two weeks.
The words lived inside Lara's head now, appearing at random moments to ambush her.
Two weeks until she stood beneath the Celestian moon arch and took Sarisa's hands.
Two weeks until vows.
Two weeks until the entire realm watched Lara promise what she had already promised with blood, fire, and every choice she had made since returning.
She was not frightened of marrying Sarisa.
She was frightened of embarrassing herself in front of several thousand people.
There was a difference.
Mostly.
Ilyra finally placed the cooled rings inside their velvet case, then sealed the lid with a small flame rune.
"No one except the intended wearers may open this without breaking the enchantment."
Lara accepted the box carefully.
"What happens if someone breaks it?"
"The rings scream."
Raveth brightened. "Excellent."
Malvoria looked offended. "Why were we not informed of this earlier?"
"Because you would test it," Lara said.
"I would verify it."
"You would make the rings scream for entertainment."
Raveth took a drink from the bottle. "Still might."
Lara tucked the box securely inside her coat.
"If either of you comes near this, I will bury you beneath the forge."
Malvoria placed a hand over her heart. "On your wedding month?"
"Especially during my wedding month."
They left the forge together, teleporting from the mountain directly into the demon palace.
The suit fitting was being held in Malvoria's private ceremonial wing because the Celestian tailors had refused to work in Lara's ordinary chambers after she threatened to burn a lace collar.
The collar had deserved it.
Lara entered the fitting room and stopped.
There were mirrors everywhere.
Tall mirrors. Angled mirrors. A circular platform surrounded by mirrors.
She looked at Malvoria.
"What is this?"
"A fitting room."
"It looks like an interrogation chamber designed by vanity."
Raveth nodded thoughtfully. "That would be effective."
Three tailors waited near the platform. Two were demons. One was Celestian. All three wore the expressions of people preparing to negotiate with a dangerous animal.
The lead tailor bowed.
"Lady Daemara."
"Lara."
"Yes, Lady Lara."
"No lady."
Malvoria leaned against a pillar. "Do not begin this again."
"I am not a lady."
"You are marrying a future queen."
"That makes me unfortunate, not delicate."
Raveth raised the bottle. "To unfortunate delicacy."
The Celestian tailor looked confused.
The lead tailor clapped her hands once. Assistants carried in the suit.
Lara forgot to complain.
It was black.
Deep black, without the blue undertones Celestian formalwear often carried. The jacket was sharply cut, fitted through the shoulders and waist without appearing restrictive.
Silver embroidery traced one side in a pattern inspired by Sarisa's constellation tattoos. On the other side, dark red thread formed subtle flames along the cuff and collar.
Demon and Celestian again.
The trousers were tailored cleanly. The shirt beneath was white, though the upper buttons were designed to remain open.
Lara approved of that.
"No feathers," she said.
The tailor looked wounded. "We removed them after your previous comments."
"I made one comment."
"You said you would feed them to a hellhound."
"They were enormous."
"They were ceremonial."
"They were hunting me."
Malvoria covered her mouth, badly hiding a laugh.
Lara changed behind the screen, then stepped onto the platform.
The room went quiet.
She immediately hated the silence.
"What?"
Raveth lowered the bottle.
Malvoria stared.
Lara looked down at herself.
The suit fit perfectly across her shoulders. The dark fabric made the red in her hair more vivid, the silver embroidery catching the light whenever she moved.
The cut emphasized her height and strength without turning her into a military statue.
She looked formal.
Royal, perhaps.
Still herself.
That mattered more than she had expected.
"Well?" Lara asked.
Malvoria's eyes narrowed with dramatic seriousness. "Sarisa is going to lose her mind."
Raveth nodded. "Possibly consciousness."
"That is inconvenient during vows."
"She may recover."
One tailor stepped forward to adjust Lara's sleeve.
Malvoria began circling the platform.
"You need a sword."
"No."
"A ceremonial sword."
"No weapons in the moon temple."
"You could hide one."
"I am not smuggling a sword into my wedding."
Raveth spoke from behind the bottle. "Knife?"
"No."
"Small axe?"
"Why would I need an axe?"
"For symbolism."
"What symbolism?"
Raveth shrugged. "Commitment."
Lara closed her eyes.
The headache was returning.
The tailors pinned one cuff, adjusted the collar, and argued quietly about whether the jacket should be shortened by half a finger.
Malvoria continued circling.
"You look nervous."
"I am standing on a platform while six people inspect my waist."
"You have fought dragons."
"Dragons do not discuss seam lines."
Raveth nodded. "They lack culture."
Lara stared at herself in the central mirror.
For a moment, the room's chaos faded.
She imagined Sarisa seeing the suit for the first time.
They had agreed not to see each other's wedding clothes before the ceremony.
Sarisa had been firm about it, saying she wanted at least one tradition untouched by politics, prison, or catastrophe.
Lara had agreed.
Then spent every day wondering what Sarisa would wear.
Silver, surely.
Perhaps white.
Perhaps both.
Whatever it was, Lara knew she would forget every prepared vow the moment Sarisa appeared.
"You're smiling," Malvoria said.
Lara's expression vanished. "No."
"You were."
"Tailor pin."
"There is no pin near your face."
Raveth grinned. "She was imagining Sarisa naked."
"I was not."
"Partially naked?"
"No."
"Wedding-night naked?"
Lara stepped down from the platform.
The tailors shouted in alarm because several pins were still attached.
Raveth retreated, laughing, while Malvoria moved behind a chair for protection.
"You two are unbearable."
"You invited us," Malvoria said.
"I absolutely did not."
"Emotionally, you did."
"That sentence means nothing."
Raveth lifted the bottle again. "It means we are family."
Lara stopped.
The words landed beneath the chaos, irritatingly sincere.
Malvoria peered around the chair, watching her.
Lara sighed.
"Yes," she said. "Unfortunately."