Lara had faced many things in her life—rebellious demons, smug Celestians, a drunken wyvern on the Southern Border—but nothing, nothing, prepared her for the day she agreed to watch Kaelith on her own.
It had started innocently enough.
Elysia had kissed Kaelith's forehead, handed over the baby with a bag that had more compartments than a battle-satchel, and said, "We'll be gone just for the morning. You'll be fine. She likes you."
Lara had blinked, half-asleep and clutching a sweetroll. "What do you mean we?"
Then Malvoria had appeared behind Elysia, fully armored, looking too smug for a woman about to attend a very dull diplomatic meeting about grain distribution and ceremonial trade routes.
She kissed Kaelith too, and said nothing—just smirked at Lara like she was passing her a ticking time bomb.
Which, in hindsight, wasn't far from the truth.
