Lara arrived at the palace briefing with the grace of a tornado entering a glass factory—late, disheveled, and still chewing something suspiciously sweet.
The room was already half-full. Advisors, commanders, and noble aides stiffened when the door swung open and banged against the stone wall.
Malvoria didn't even look up from her seat at the head of the obsidian table.
"Lara," she said flatly, "nice of you to join us."
Lara flopped into an empty chair with a loud sigh. "I had to finish a report."
"You were in the gardens harassing the sword trainers," Malvoria replied without missing a beat.
"I call that delegation of authority," Lara grinned.
"You're being sent on a diplomatic delegation," Malvoria snapped, lifting her gaze now, dark eyes narrowed in that specific way that said "I love you but I will stab you."
