They made it down the corridor without speaking.
That was the dangerous part.
If Sarisa had laughed, or teased, or said something cutting and clever, Lara might have gotten herself under control.
But Sarisa was silent, and so was Lara, and the silence between them was molten. Every step echoed through the palace like a countdown.
By the time they reached Sarisa's door, Lara's pulse was hammering hard enough to make her feel reckless.
Sarisa pushed inside first and didn't even bother lighting more lamps. The room was already washed in evening gold and shadow, the curtains half open, the bed untouched, everything too neat for what Lara wanted to do in it.
She closed the door behind them, turned the lock with one smooth movement, and looked back over her shoulder.
That look nearly undid Lara on the spot.
Sarisa's hair had come loose in the garden. It spilled over one shoulder now, slightly windswept, her lips still pink from kissing, her eyes darker than they had any right to be.
She looked like royalty ruined by desire, like temptation dressed in silk and moonlight, and Lara had the sudden vicious thought that if anyone tried to interrupt this, she would commit at least three crimes.
Sarisa opened her mouth, maybe to speak, but Lara was already there.
She caught Sarisa by the waist and backed her into the door, kissing her hard enough to steal the breath from both of them. Sarisa made a soft, startled sound that turned into something hungrier when Lara's hand slid up into her hair.
The kiss deepened fast, all restraint gone, mouths opening, tongues meeting, the kind of kiss that had no patience in it. Lara kissed like she was furious with the whole world for taking so long to let this happen. Sarisa kissed back like she intended to make up for every lost chance in one night.
"Gods," Lara muttered against her mouth, breathless and rough. "You keep doing that and I'm going to lose what little self-control I have."
Sarisa's answer was to bite lightly at her lower lip, then smile when Lara swore under her breath.
"Oh, you're enjoying this," Lara said.
"A little," Sarisa murmured, and then she kissed her again, slower this time, which somehow felt even worse. Better. Worse.
Lara's hands moved without asking permission from the rest of her. One stayed at Sarisa's waist, holding her close enough that there wasn't a breath of space left between them.
The other traced down her side, over the curve of her hip, then back up again. Sarisa shivered. Lara felt it and almost smiled into the kiss.
"Still bored?" Lara asked, voice low and taunting.
Sarisa's eyes flashed. "Do not start."
Lara leaned in, lips brushing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw. "What was that? I can't hear you over how badly you were suffering on your lovely little date."
Sarisa pushed at her shoulder, though there was no force in it. "You're unbearable."
"And yet," Lara said, kissing the line beneath her ear, "here you are."
Sarisa's fingers twisted in Lara's shirt. "You're insufferably pleased with yourself."
"I'm trying not to be." Lara's mouth moved lower, slower, a line of heated kisses down the side of Sarisa's throat. "You make it difficult."
That earned her a breath that was almost a moan, and Lara closed her eyes for a second, letting it hit her like strong drink.
She could have stayed there forever, with Sarisa pinned against the door, all sharp breaths and soft skin and that impossible scent that was beginning to mean home.
Instead, she pulled Sarisa away from the wall and backed her toward the bed.
Sarisa went willingly, though her dignity tried to stage a last-minute rebellion. "You're very smug for someone who looked one step from murder in the garden."
"I was one step from murder," Lara said. "That was before you kissed me."
Sarisa's knees met the edge of the mattress and she sat almost blindly, dragging Lara with her. Lara went down with a hand braced beside Sarisa's thigh, looming over her, looking at her in a way that made Sarisa's pulse jump visibly at her throat.
There was something intoxicating about seeing Sarisa like this. Not princess, not future queen, not the composed daughter of a cold court.
Just Sarisa, flushed and rumpled and staring up at Lara like she wanted to be ruined and comforted in equal measure.
Lara bent to kiss her again, and this time it turned slow and deep, tongues sliding together, breath mingling, the whole room narrowing to the warmth of Sarisa's mouth and the small sounds she made when Lara tilted her head just right.
Lara's hand drifted up to her cheek, then down again, fingertips skimming over fabric and heat, never still for long.
Sarisa broke the kiss first only to whisper, "Lock the balcony."
Lara blinked. "You think I'm that distracted?"
"I think," Sarisa said, voice wrecked, "that if someone climbs in through the window while you're kissing me like that, I'll have to kill them."
Lara laughed under her breath. "That's my girl."
Sarisa rolled her eyes and dragged her back down by the collar.
The next kiss was worse in the best possible way. Messier. Hungrier.
Lara let herself sink into it, one knee pressing into the mattress between Sarisa's legs, her free hand moving to the small of Sarisa's back. Sarisa arched into her touch, then made an impatient sound when Lara lingered there instead of doing something more useful.
"Lara."
"What?"
"That was not a compliment."
Lara smiled against her mouth. "It was absolutely a compliment."
Sarisa muttered something rude and elegant that made Lara laugh outright. Gods, she loved this version of her. Sharp-tongued and flushed and unraveling.
Lara kissed the answer out of her, let her hand drift higher, then lower again, learned exactly what made Sarisa's breathing catch and her fingers tighten.
Sarisa, in return, pushed Lara's shirt open one button at a time with all the ceremony of a woman preparing a murder.
Her palms slid over Lara's skin, warm and deliberate, and Lara had to brace both hands on the bed for a second and remind herself how to breathe.
"You're a menace," Lara said.
Sarisa's smile was wicked. "That's rich, coming from you."
Lara lowered her head, resting her forehead briefly against Sarisa's. "You know what your problem is?"
Sarisa's fingers dragged lightly over one of Lara's ribs. "Tell me."
"You act all composed and terrifying, and then you kiss me like you're trying to start a war."
Sarisa's answer was another kiss, all heat and intent.
Lara gave in to it completely. Her hands slid into Sarisa's hair again, then down her back, drawing her closer until there was no space, no sanity, just warmth and wanting and the dangerous sense that if they kept going, there would be no easy way back.
And then, from the other side of the door, came a sharp, unmistakable knock.
Both of them froze.
For one suspended second, neither moved, neither breathed. Lara's mouth was still against Sarisa's. Sarisa's hand was fisted in Lara's shirt. The room seemed to tilt.
Another knock, firmer this time.
Lara pulled back just enough to stare at the door, eyes wide, pulse roaring in her ears. Sarisa looked equally murderous.
Then came the queen's voice, cool and precise through the wood.
"Sarisa?"
Lara closed her eyes for one brief, pained second and whispered, "Fuck."