"Mother?"
I straightened my spine. "It is what I shall call you from now on. Tradition."
I couldn't tell if she was displeased; she just gave me a blank stare, but so far, there was no hostile energy from her. She was…calm?
"Sit," she instructed, taking the quill and going back to writing.
I neared her cautiously and pulled out the chair and sat, adjusting my skirt and sleeves. There was a long minute of silence, with just the sound of soft scraping on the paper and flipping.
Is she going to keep me waiting? I anticipated many things from this meeting, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tolerate any of them.
I opened my mouth to speak; however, that was when she finally decided to cut the hot silence.
"Pardon me, for I did not attend your coronation. Can't blame me for being unwilling to see my vision crushed into a million pieces. There's only so much this old woman can take."
"Your vision remains, Mother. You only just never pictured me."
