Chapter 19: Seri

Seri

Maeve returned sooner than I expected.

I had just finished the last of the pastries, brushing the remaining sugar from my fingertips, when the knock sounded again—soft, familiar.

“Come in,” I called.

The door opened, and Maeve stepped inside, a quiet smile already forming.

“The kitchens are ready for you.”

Something in my chest lifted, quick and bright.

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’ll need to take it slowly, but yes. They’re prepared.”

I pushed the tray aside, already shifting to sit up straighter before I remembered my shoulder and slowed myself down, wincing slightly as I adjusted.

Maeve crossed the room in a few easy steps.

“Careful,” she murmured, setting a steadying hand near my shoulder without quite touching me, as if she was giving me the option rather than forcing me.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, then paused. “Okay, not fine, but… functional.”

Her lips curved faintly at that.

“Functional will do.”

She moved toward the armoire and opened it, pulling out a fresh dress—something simple, but beautifully made, the fabric soft and flowing in a way that caught the light like water.

The color shifted subtly between deep blue and green depending on how it moved, like the surface of the ocean just before a storm.

I watched her for a moment, still adjusting to the ease with which she existed here, the quiet confidence of someone who had never questioned her place in the world.

“Sit forward,” she said gently.

I did, and she stepped behind me, gathering my hair with careful hands.

The sensation was unexpectedly grounding.

Her fingers moved slowly, working through the tangles with a patience that felt almost ritualistic, as though this wasn’t just about appearance but something quieter—something familiar, repeated over time.

“You’re quieter today,” she observed.

I huffed a soft breath. “I think I used up all my panic yesterday.”

“That would make sense.”

I hesitated, then added, “I’m starting to understand…to remember... a little more.”

Her hands stilled for just a second before continuing.

“That's a really good sign.”

She finished braiding the last section of my hair, securing it in a way that kept it out of my face but still loose enough to feel natural.

“Done,” she said.

I reached up, fingers brushing lightly over the braid, surprised by how… right it felt. Like something that belonged here more than the rest of me did.

Maeve stepped back, giving me a moment before offering her hand.

“Ready?”

I nodded and took it, letting her help me carefully to my feet. The pain was still there, a dull reminder threaded through every movement, but it was manageable.

Manageable felt like progress.

We moved toward the door together, slower than I would have liked but steady, and Maeve opened it with a smooth motion.

The guard waiting outside wasn’t Caiden.

I noticed that immediately.

It was the same younger man as the evening before.

He stood a little straighter when the door opened. His brown hair fell loosely around his face, and his skin was scattered with freckles that stood out sharply against the faint sheen I was beginning to recognize. It was is if each of them had just stepped out of the sea.

There was something familiar about him, and it took me a second to place it.

He looked like Maeve.

Not identical, but close enough that the resemblance felt unmistakable once I saw it.

Family, maybe.

His cheerful gaze flicked to me, then to Maeve, and something unspoken passed between them before he nodded once, respectful.

“Good Morning, Princess. Morning, cousin.”

“Hi, Finn,” she replied easily.

Finn.

I tucked the name away automatically.

"Morning, Finn. Did you stay out here all night?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Of course, Princess. It was my shift."

"Well, thank you. I feel safe knowing you are there." It was true. The guards did make her feel trapped in a way, but she also knew that someone was nearby in case she needed help.

"No thanks needed, Princess. It's my duty." A bright grin lit his face, and I couldn't help but return it. His delight was infectious.

My attention drifted back to the absence I felt.

To the fact that Caiden wasn’t there.

The realization settled quietly, but it left an unexpected hollow in its wake, something I couldn’t quite justify.

Which was ridiculous.

He had been guarding me, yes, but he seemed to see things that others let go unnoticed. It was a good thing that he wasn't here.

And yet…

This strange part of me wished he was.

I pushed the thought aside before it could take root.

Maeve guided me forward, and Finn fell into step behind us without a word.

The hallway stretched out ahead.

It was clearly built—crafted—with intention.

The walls weren’t just uncut stone. Each one was ornately carved, the surface etched with flowing patterns that mimicked currents, spirals, the gentle pull and shift of water in motion. The designs caught the light in ways that made them seem almost alive, like they might move if I looked at them long enough.

The floor beneath us was smooth and cool, worn not from neglect, but from use—generations of footsteps shaping it into something softer, more refined.

Open archways lined parts of the corridor, revealing glimpses of the outside.

The ocean felt closer here than it had from my room, no longer something distant beyond the cove but rising up against the cliff itself. Through wide, curved openings, I could see where the water met the rock below, waves curling and breaking in slow, rhythmic patterns as fish flashed through the shallows. Sunlight filtered up from the surface, casting shifting reflections across the interior walls, so the entire castle seemed to breathe with the rhythm of the sea.

It was… beautiful.

Perfect in a way that didn’t feel forced.

We passed other people—selkies, as we moved, some with damp hair, others fully dry, all moving with that same quiet confidence I had started to recognize. Conversations hummed softly, voices low and melodic, greeting me with relieved smiles when they noticed my presence. I tried to smile back, hoping they wouldn't see me for the scam artist I had accidantally become.

Eventually, the air shifted.

Warmer.

Richer.

The scent reached me before the space itself did—sweet and savory layered together, sugar and butter and something deeper, something unmistakably tied to the ocean.

“The kitchens,” Maeve said quietly.

We slowed slightly as the corridor opened up ahead, the space widening, light shifting again as the architecture changed.

I felt my pulse pick up, not from fear this time, but from something sharper. Anticipation. Curiosity, stronger now, pulling me forward.

I glanced once more down at my hands, steadying myself without thinking. It had become a habit to make sure that they were still the hands of the princess.

I can do this.

When I lifted my gaze again, it was toward whatever waited beyond those doors.

And this time, I didn’t hesitate.