Lunch in the Southern palace was a grand affair, made all the grander by the cool stone walls, the glitter of sunlight on ocean beyond the terrace, and the ever-present buzz of half a dozen languages at the table.
By the time Lara and Sarisa had composed themselves, stolen a minute in their chambers to wipe the last bits of hay from their clothes, and joined the others, the meal was already well underway.
Lara slipped into her seat beside Sarisa, aware of every eye at the table. The Southern king was there, his skin the deep gold of someone born to the sun, his beard braided with silver rings.
The queen, sharp and stately, surveyed the company with an expression that could have meant anything—approval, suspicion, calculation, or all three at once.
Lyana, the princess, lounged to one side, her gaze lingering on Lara with a knowing twinkle.
If anyone suspected anything about the stable, they kept it to themselves.
Lara kept her chin up and met Lyana's eye with a slow, lazy grin, daring her to say something. Lyana only winked and bit into a honeyed fig.
They were served platters of roasted fish, mango salads, small rounds of cheese and sweet flatbread dusted with spice.
Lara's appetite was strong after the morning's exercise on more than one front but as soon as the servants retreated, the atmosphere shifted from feasting to business.
The king cleared his throat, folding his hands before him. "Princess Sarisa, General Lara—thank you for gracing our table. I won't waste your time. The South has a problem that only grows each year: pirates."
Sarisa straightened, instantly all business. "We were briefed, Your Majesty. We read the last incident reports before arriving. Has there been another attack?"
"Three, in the last fortnight," the king replied grimly.
"Each time, they strike different islands—swift, well-organized, and gone before our ships can mount a response. They don't steal much: some goods, a few hostages for ransom. But the true damage is fear. Our fishermen are abandoning their boats. Our traders hesitate to dock."
The queen spoke next, her voice quiet but iron-clad.
"We can withstand raids. But we cannot survive our people's fear forever. If the north—if the Celestian court—could offer some assurance. Princess Sarisa, would you be willing to address the people at tomorrow's gathering?"
Sarisa nodded, her expression serious. "Of course. I'd be honored."
The king turned his gaze to Lara. "And you, General? Our soldiers are proud, but… It would give us great reassurance if you might coordinate with our navy—maybe lead a patrol or two while you're here. Show them that the North stands with the South."
Lara grinned, a lazy, wolfish tilt of her mouth. "It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty. Nothing I like more than hunting pirates. Though I hope you don't mind if I do things my own way."
The queen smiled, her eyes crinkling just enough to show approval. "That's exactly what we want, General."
Lyana leaned forward, grinning. "The pirates have been running wild for too long. If anyone can make them think twice, it's you. Just try not to sink all our ships, please."
Lara laughed. "No promises."
Sarisa shot Lara a look—equal parts warning and affection. "She's only joking. Mostly."
The king pushed a map across the table.
"We have reports of pirate sightings here, here, and here," he said, tapping the islands in question.
"They have fast boats, more agile than our larger ships. If you need anything—men, resources—ask. And if you have suggestions for strengthening our defenses, I'm listening."
Lara studied the map. The pirate routes made sense, a scattershot of attacks, using hidden coves for shelter, preying on the slowest merchant vessels.
She was already thinking through ambush tactics, patrol schedules, ways to flush them out with a show of force.
She glanced at Sarisa. "You up for a little collaborative speechwriting tonight, Princess? Or are you going to be too busy bossing me around?"
Sarisa rolled her eyes, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "You'll help, whether you want to or not. I need someone to translate military into something civilians can understand."
Lyana grinned, nudging Lara's foot under the table. "You'd be surprised, General. Down here, we like our leaders to be blunt. As long as you promise to use small words."
Lara snorted, hiding a smile behind her cup of spiced tea. "I'll do my best, Princess."
The meal flowed on—details discussed, new threats debated, and, always, the weight of expectation in the air.
Lara couldn't help but notice how easily Sarisa commanded the table now. She'd grown into her role, voice steady, gaze level, her poise even under pressure undeniable.
But Lara could also sense the cracks, the small ways Sarisa squeezed her hand under the table, the little glances full of worry when the talk turned to hostages and missing families. The South needed hope, not just swords.
As dessert—a sweet tamarind tart—arrived, the queen leaned toward Sarisa. "The speech will be at noon tomorrow, on the steps overlooking the harbor. We expect nearly the entire island will gather."
"I'll be ready," Sarisa said, though Lara could hear the tightness in her voice. "And after?"
"After," the king said, "we hope our new alliance will become a beacon for all the islands. But first, the pirates must be dealt with."
Lara leaned forward, her mind already racing. "Do you have a list of ships in port? Any new arrivals, anyone you don't recognize?"
Lyana produced a ledger from under her plate—clearly well-prepared.
"We've got every ship listed. I've marked the ones that showed up in the last week—there are three that no one seems to know. I'll have my scribe copy the details for you."
Lara shot her a grateful look. "That's more useful than a sword right now. Thank you."
The king stood, signaling the end of the formal meal.
"If you'll excuse me, there are council matters to attend. Princess Sarisa, the speechwriter will meet you in the north study in an hour. General, my captain of the guard is waiting in the barracks. Perhaps you'll meet him before he dies of nerves."
Lara rose, bowing slightly. "On my way, Your Majesty."
The court began to disperse. Sarisa lingered for a moment, fingers brushing Lara's wrist as she leaned in close. "Don't get yourself killed out there."
Lara grinned, her tone low and private. "Not before you finish that speech."
Sarisa's eyes sparkled. "And after?"
Lara winked. "We'll see how persuasive you are."
As Sarisa was swept away by a pair of ministers, Lyana caught Lara's elbow. "Walk with me, General?"
They stepped out onto the terrace together, the sea breeze sharp and sweet. Lyana glanced sidelong at Lara, her voice low. "You're very good at looking relaxed."
"It's an art," Lara replied. "Most of the time I'm trying not to punch someone."
Lyana laughed. "We could use more of that here. Listen—I like you, and I like your princess. If you need help with the pirates, I can get you information the council won't. Just say the word."
Lara nodded, appreciating the directness. "If I see anything suspicious, I'll let you know. But right now, I'm just hoping the pirates are dumb enough to attack while I'm here."
Lyana grinned. "If not, we'll bait them."
They walked together to the barracks, where the Southern captain waited—nervous, eager, bristling with questions.
Lara took charge, flipping through ship reports, discussing tactics, and planning out patrol routes. The captain was quick, his men loyal, but they needed confidence as much as orders.
By the time the sun was lowering toward the sea, Lara felt herself sliding back into her old rhythms—commanding, training, organizing.
But her mind was never far from Sarisa, from the strange, bright tension that shimmered between them now.
What had happened in the stables was a secret, yes, but also a promise. She would protect Sarisa's interests as fiercely as her life.