The Triton

Chapter 18: Vivien

I was late to the meeting with my mother.

Rosann waited outside. They'd replaced the mirror while I was gone, and only one set of amethyst eyes looked back. I leaned close, and I recognized my eyes in the mirror, the small circle around the iris was still there, now a fierce purple.

The bath had felt too good.

Warm water and fragrant oils had seeped into every bruise and aching muscle, unwinding the knots left by the sparring session with Rosann. I had lingered longer than I should have, letting the scents cloud my mind, the cold a welcome shock to my battered body.

Dressing had been another ordeal—deciding between layers of formal wear that felt like armor and simpler garments that would still present decently, whatever the hell that meant. The choices were overwhelming.

Finally, I settled on a dark blue gown, its fabric soft yet structured enough to convey some semblance of regality. I winced as I fastened the clasps, each movement a reminder of the morning's brutal training session.

Rosann guided me from my room, our destination a place he called the Study.

I quickened my pace, wincing as pain flared in my side, but I couldn't afford to slow down. As I approached the grand doors of her chamber, I took a deep breath. "Thank you, Rosann."

He merely nodded, but the twinkle in his eye had returned––dulled, but there. "Same time tomorrow."

I split the doors. Inside, I found Eleanora seated by the window. Her gown of deep sea green shimmered under the diffused light filtering through the glass windows, a perfect contrast to her gold hair, which flowed like a cascading waterfall over her shoulders. Her crown, an intricate piece of gold, coral, and pearl, seemed to hold the weight of the ocean itself, a symbol of her unwavering strength and authority.

Her gaze, sharp as a blade, locked onto me the moment I entered, then softened. "Vivien," she said, her voice a blend of frost and silk. "You're late."

"I apologize," I said, bowing my head slightly, tangibly feeling the sting of her words. "The training session ran longer than expected."

"Training is important, but so is punctuality," Eleanora replied, her tone softening. "You must learn to balance your responsibilities."

"I understand."

She rose gracefully, her movements fluid and commanding, a reminder of why she was revered not just as a ruler but as a warrior. "Come in," she said, her expression softening slightly. "We have much to discuss."

This place felt like a sanctuary of refinement and intellect, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace's public halls. As I stepped inside, the scent of old parchment and the faint aroma of brewed tea mingled in the air.

Bookshelves lined the walls, towering from floor to ceiling, each shelf meticulously organized with tomes and scrolls of unknown origins. My merfolk eyes focused in on some, able to read their letters even from across the room. Leather-bound volumes, some ancient and weathered, others pristine and newly added, filled every inch of space.

A large, mahogany desk dominated one side of the room, its surface polished to a gleaming finish. Neatly stacked documents, quills, and inkpots sat alongside stones and coral fragments, artifacts collected from our kingdom's underwater realms. A delicate hourglass filled with shimmering sand stood at the edge of the desk.

In the center of the room, a fine tea set was arranged on a low table surrounded by plush, velvet-upholstered chairs. The teapot, crafted from fine porcelain with intricate patterns of aquatic flora, steamed gently, the scent of some tea wafting through the room, filling my nostrils. Porcelain cups and saucers, each adorned with delicate gold filigree, were placed meticulously on the table.