Chapter 20: Seri

Seri

The doors to the kitchens were already open.

Warmth spilled out first, wrapping around me in a way that felt completely different from the cool, ocean air of the corridors. It carried scent with it—rich and layered, sweet and savory braided together so tightly I couldn’t separate one from the other. Sugar, butter, toasted grain, something citrusy, something briny, something unfamiliar and distinctly oceanic.

For a moment, I just stood there, taking it in.

Then Maeve gave my hand the slightest encouraging pressure, and I stepped forward.

The space beyond was larger than I expected, stretching wide beneath a high, arched ceiling supported by carved beams that twisted like driftwood. Long stone tables ran through the center of the room, each one covered in activity—dough being rolled and folded, trays being arranged, delicate shapes forming beneath practiced hands.

Ovens lined the far wall, their interiors glowing softly, heat pulsing outward in steady waves. Above them, vents carved into the stone drew the warmth upward, carrying with it the scent of everything being made.

It wasn’t chaotic.

It should have been, with this many people moving at once, but it wasn’t, everything flowed.

Each person seemed to know exactly where to be, when to move, how to shift around one another without collision, like a current guiding them into place. Conversations rose and fell in quiet, easy rhythms, laughter threading through it now and then, never disrupting the steady pulse of work.

It felt… alive, but not overwhelming.

Perfect in that same quiet, effortless way I had started to notice everywhere else.

A woman near the center looked up first.

She was older than the others, and seemed to be in charge of the space. Her presence held weight, steady and assured, her silver hair pulled back from her face, her hands dusted lightly with flour as she paused mid-motion.

Her eyes landed on me, and widened.

“Well,” she said, her voice warm and rich with surprise. “Now this is something I never thought I’d see.”

The movement in the room didn’t stop, but it shifted, attention rippling outward in subtle waves as others began to notice.

Maeve stepped slightly forward beside me.

“Head Chef Elira,” she said gently, “the princess wished to visit.”

Elira’s gaze flicked briefly to Maeve, then back to me, something like delight sparking behind her eyes.

“The princess,” she repeated, as if testing the reality of it. “In my kitchens. I never thought I'd see the day.”

Her mouth curved into a smile that was both respectful and openly pleased.

“I—” I hesitated, then let out a small breath. “I came to thank you.”

That seemed safer.

Her brows lifted slightly.

“For the pastries this morning,” I added quickly. “They were incredible.”

Something softened in her expression, the formality easing.

“Well,” she said, glancing briefly at the others before returning her attention to me, “I am both surprised and delighted. You've told me before that they're your favorite, but you’ve never come down here to say it.”

A small pause.

“Usually far too busy,” she continued, her tone light but knowing, “with the affairs of the colonies, or your training, or whatever else it is they keep you occupied with.”

My stomach dipped slightly.

Colonies. Just like what the humans call groups of seals. At least that's similar.

I forced a small smile, hoping it passed for something knowing instead of something panicked.

“I suppose I’ve been missing out.”

“That you have,” Elira said without hesitation, and there was no offense in it—only a kind of quiet pride.

She stepped closer, brushing her hands together lightly, flour dusting off in soft clouds.

“You are always welcome here, Princess. Though I must admit, I never expected to see you walk through those doors of your own accord.”

Neither did I.

The thought slipped through before I could stop it.

And then—

Before I could think better of it—

I stepped forward.

“Thank you,” I said, the words coming out softer than I intended, something real and unguarded behind them. "For making food that you know I love when I've been through so much. It means a lot."

And then I hugged her.

It was quick, instinctive, completely unplanned.

But it felt right. She reminded me so much of my own late grandmother that I just couldn't help myself.

The pastries had been incredible, yes—but it was more than that. It was the care behind them, the warmth, the sense of something made with intention and shared freely.

For a second, everything stilled.

I felt it in the way Elira’s body went just slightly rigid in surprise before she softened, her arms lifting hesitantly, then returning the gesture with a light, almost uncertain warmth.

Behind me, the room shifted.

Not stopped—never stopped—but something in the rhythm changed, just enough to notice.

I pulled back quickly, the realization hitting me all at once.

That might not have been normal.

I turned slightly, instinctively looking toward Maeve.

And caught it.

The look she and Finn shared.

Quick.

Subtle.

But unmistakable.

Not disapproval.

More like… surprise. Amusement, maybe. A quiet acknowledgment of something unexpected.

My stomach twisted.

Right.

Princess.

Warrior.

Do selkies even hug?

I straightened a little, trying to smooth over the moment without drawing more attention to it.

Elira cleared her throat softly, though her smile had returned, warmer now, and more genuine.

“Well,” she said, a hint of laughter threading into her voice, “that is certainly new.”

Heat crept up the back of my neck.

“I—sorry, I didn’t—I haven't been feeling like myself.”

“No,” she interrupted gently, shaking her head. “No apologies. It was… lovely. We were worried about you, Princess. I am glad to see you up and moving so well.”

She studied me for a moment, something thoughtful settling into her gaze, as though she were seeing me a little more clearly now than she had before.

Maeve stepped in smoothly, as if sensing the shift.

“The princess was hoping to learn more about the kitchens,” she said. “If that would be acceptable.”

Elira’s attention returned fully to her, then back to me.

“Acceptable?” she echoed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It would be a pleasure.”

She gestured toward the nearest table.

“Come,” she said. “If you’re going to step into my domain, you may as well do it properly.”

I hesitated for only a second before moving forward, drawn in completely by the smell alone.

The warmth, the movement, the quiet precision of it all—it wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into the space.

This time, when I glanced back at Maeve and Finn, there was no mistaking it.

They were still watching me.

Not with concern, but with interest, as if they were waiting to see what I would do next.

I swallowed lightly, then turned back to the kitchens.

Because for better or worse—

So was I.