The chambers of Submareth were still heavy with the memory of the night.
The sea outside moaned against the walls, and the faint phosphorescence of coral cast the table in shifting hues of violet and blue.
Caedrion sat opposite Thalassaria, his hair damp, skin still carrying the scent of salt and the queen's perfume, something floral and ancient, impossible to place.
She lounged across from him in a languid sprawl, the silk of her fins trailing lazily in the current, her posture unconcerned in that way only a woman who knew she possessed could manage.
She smiled faintly as she plucked apart a slice of spiced kelp bread with her claws.
"You were quieter this time," she said, the tease so soft it might have been mistaken for affection. "Perhaps you're learning."
He didn't rise to it.
He couldn't afford to. Instead he tore his own bread, sipped from the cup of black wine, and let her have the satisfaction of silence.
