The coronation ended beneath ringing bells, rising fire, and enough applause to make the Moon Temple tremble.
Then came the party.
Or, as Lara would later describe it, the diplomatic invasion of an innocent banquet hall by several hundred overdressed people with access to alcohol.
The reception was held in the Celestian Palace's Grand Lunar Hall, which had been transformed so thoroughly that Sarisa barely recognized it.
Silver vines climbed the pillars, blooming with white flowers whose centers glowed like small stars.
Dark-red flames floated in glass spheres beneath the ceiling, moving slowly between crystal chandeliers. Long tables curved around the edge of the room, covered with food from both realms.
Celestian pastries shared space with demon-roasted meats.
Moonwine stood beside bottles of black fire liquor that Raveth had been specifically told not to encourage anyone to drink quickly.
Naturally, Raveth was already demonstrating how to drink it quickly.
Sarisa entered with Lara's hand in hers.
The announcement of their titles echoed through the hall.
"Her Majesty, Queen Sarisa Daemara of Celestia, and Lara Daemara, Royal Consort and First Shield of the Crown."
The guests stood.
Sarisa felt Lara shift beside her.
"I am never getting used to that title," Lara murmured.
"Which one?"
"Royal Consort."
Sarisa glanced at her. "You preferred First Shield?"
"It sounds less decorative."
"You are wearing a crown."
"A hostile crown."
"It has not done anything."
"It is heavy and judgmental."
Sarisa fought a smile as they descended the broad staircase into the reception hall.
Aliyah and Neris followed with Elysia and Veylira. Their small circlets gleamed beneath the lights.
Aliyah looked extremely aware that people were bowing to her now, while Neris remained close to Veylira, watching the crowd with cautious eyes.
Kaelith came behind them, holding Malvoria's hand and whispering something urgent about cake.
Malvoria listened with the solemnity of a military commander receiving battlefield intelligence.
The musicians waited on a raised silver platform near the center of the room.
Once Sarisa and Lara reached the dance floor, the room quieted.
The first dance.
Sarisa had rehearsed it.
Lara had avoided rehearsing it.
This had resulted in several arguments.
Lara insisted she knew how to dance. Sarisa insisted that moving confidently in a tavern after six drinks did not qualify as ceremonial dancing.
Lara had called that cultural prejudice.
Now they stood facing each other beneath a ceiling full of floating fire and artificial stars while the entire court watched.
Sarisa lifted one eyebrow.
"Nervous?"
"No."
"Your hand is squeezing mine."
"I am asserting confidence."
"That is not what confidence feels like."
Lara's gaze moved briefly across the watching guests.
Then she leaned closer.
"If I step on your dress, can we blame Kaelith?"
"No."
"Raveth?"
"No."
"The former queen?"
"She is in a dungeon."
"Then she cannot defend herself."
Sarisa almost laughed.
The musicians began.
A slow melody flowed through the hall, carried by silver-stringed instruments and deep demon drums. Celestian music usually drifted, delicate and airy. Demon music lived in the bones.
Together, they created something unexpectedly beautiful.
Lara placed one hand against Sarisa's waist.
Sarisa rested hers on Lara's shoulder.
Their other hands joined.
For a moment, neither moved.
Lara stared at her.
Sarisa stared back.
"You have forgotten the first step," Sarisa whispered.
"I was distracted."
"By what?"
"My wife."
Sarisa's heart made an undignified little movement.
"That answer will not save you from stepping on me."
"It should."
"It will not."
Lara finally moved.
To Sarisa's surprise, she moved well.
Very well.
Her first step was precise, her hand steady at Sarisa's waist as she guided her across the floor.
She followed the rhythm without hesitation, adjusting naturally to the shape of Sarisa's gown and the weight of the ceremonial mantle that had been removed before the reception.
Sarisa narrowed her eyes.
"You practiced."
Lara looked offended. "You doubted me?"
"You refused every rehearsal."
"I practiced secretly."
"With whom?"
"Raveth."
Sarisa nearly missed a step.
"Raveth taught you to dance?"
"She knows several dances."
"She also knows seventeen ways to remove a person's fingernails."
"People can have multiple interests."
Sarisa looked over Lara's shoulder.
Near the edge of the dance floor, Raveth raised her glass in salute.
Malvoria appeared to be laughing.
Sarisa returned her attention to Lara.
"I am impressed."
"I will remember you once believed me incapable."
"I believed you unwilling."
"That is fair."
They turned slowly beneath the floating lights.
The guests faded around them.
Sarisa knew they were being watched. She knew every movement would be discussed by nobles, priests, foreign representatives, and probably several newspapers by morning.
Yet Lara's hand at her waist made the hall feel smaller.
Private.
The silver embroidery on Lara's suit caught the glow of Sarisa's tattoos. The flames stitched along her collar seemed alive whenever she moved.
Sarisa's gaze lowered briefly to Lara's open shirt.
Lara noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Her mouth curved.
"My eyes are higher."
"I was examining the tailoring."
"Liar."
Sarisa raised her chin. "You are speaking to your queen."
"I am dancing with my wife."
Lara pulled her closer.
The movement was subtle, but the distance between them disappeared.
Sarisa inhaled sharply.
Lara's hand slid farther around her waist, palm warm against the small of her back. Their bodies moved together as the music deepened.
The dance remained proper.
Technically.
But Lara's gaze changed.
That familiar heat entered her red eyes, dark and intimate, turning the grand reception hall into something far less innocent.
Sarisa felt warmth gather beneath her skin.
"You are doing that deliberately," she whispered.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"As though you intend to remove this dress with your teeth."
Lara's smile became dangerous.
"I had not considered using my teeth."
Sarisa stumbled.
Only slightly.
Lara caught her, arm tightening around her waist.
A few guests made soft appreciative sounds, likely believing the movement had been an elegant dip.
It was not.
It was Sarisa forgetting how feet worked.
Lara leaned over her, holding her securely as silver hair cascaded toward the floor.
Their faces were dangerously close.
"Careful, Your Majesty," Lara murmured. "Everyone is watching."
Sarisa stared up at her.
"You caused that."
"I saved you."
"You made me stumble."
"You were distracted."
Sarisa narrowed her eyes. "By my wife."
Lara laughed softly.
Then she lifted Sarisa back upright.
The dance continued, but Lara did not restore the polite distance between them. Her thumb moved slowly against Sarisa's back, tracing an absent circle through the white fabric.
Sarisa's thoughts became progressively less royal.
"You need to stop," she whispered.
"You do not sound convincing."
"We are in public."
"I noticed."
"There are priests watching."
"One of them is drinking demon liquor."
Sarisa glanced toward the high priest.
He was indeed holding a dark-red glass and staring at it with growing concern.
"That changes nothing."
Lara lowered her head, lips close to Sarisa's ear.
"What would you prefer I do?"
The warmth of Lara's breath touched her skin.
Sarisa tightened her grip on Lara's shoulder.
"Behave."
"You married the wrong woman for that."
"I am beginning to understand."
Lara's lips brushed the edge of her ear.
Barely.
An accident, if anyone asked.
Sarisa knew better.
A shiver moved through her.
Lara felt it.
Her smile pressed briefly against Sarisa's temple.
"You are cruel," Sarisa murmured.
"I learned from you."
"I have never done this during a public ceremony."
"You once chained me to furniture."
Sarisa's eyes widened. "Do not mention that here."
"I did not say which furniture."
"Lara."
Her wife laughed, quiet and delighted.
The music swelled.
Lara guided Sarisa into another turn, releasing her only long enough to let the skirt of her gown flare around her like white flame.
When Sarisa returned, Lara caught her against her body with such perfect timing that applause broke out around them.
Sarisa looked up at her.
Lara looked unbearably pleased.
"You planned that."
"Yes."
"You said you had barely practiced."
"I lied."
"I married a liar."
"You knew that before the vows."
Sarisa rested her forehead briefly against Lara's.
The melody softened, approaching its end.
For a few final moments, they moved slowly together.
No teasing.
No titles.
No court.
Only Sarisa's hand in Lara's and the new rings warming between their fingers whenever they touched.
Sarisa glanced down at them.
Black demon metal braided with Celestian silver.
Equal.
Joined.
Strong.
"They truly are beautiful," she said.
Lara's expression softened.
"So are you."
"You have said that several times today."
"I am going to continue."
"For how long?"
"The rest of our lives."
Sarisa felt her eyes sting again.
"No more crying," she warned.
"I am not crying."
"I meant me."
"Good. I already embarrassed myself enough for both of us."
The final note rang through the hall.
Lara stopped, still holding Sarisa close.
The guests waited.
Tradition required them to bow, separate, and formally open the dance floor to everyone else.
Lara instead kissed her.
Not with the desperate intensity of the temple kiss.
This one was slow.
Lingering.
Far too intimate for the number of witnesses surrounding them.
Sarisa forgot her own warning and kissed her back, fingers curling lightly into Lara's jacket.
The applause became cheers.
Someone whistled.
Sarisa suspected Raveth.
When they finally separated, Lara's pupils were dark, and Sarisa's lips tingled.
Lara looked as though she might kiss her again.
Sarisa placed two fingers against her mouth.
"Public," she reminded her breathlessly.
Lara kissed her fingertips.
"For now."
Sarisa's face grew warm.
Then Kaelith's voice rang across the hall.
"Can we eat the cake now?"
The entire room burst into laughter.