The moonlight shone down through the depths, glinting off the scales of bluefish and bonito, silhouetting sharks and rays.
“If I swim all night, I can make camp by morning. I’ll find the Demeter tomorrow and, with any amount of luck, the necklace, too. I’ll be a hero in Traho’s eyes,” Mahdi said bitterly.
“You are a hero,” Serafina said. “To me. To our people. One day, everyone will know it.”
He looked down at her. “Mērē dila, mērī ātmā,” he whispered. It was Matalin mer for My heart, my soul. He took her in his arms and held her close. “I love you, Serafina. No matter what happens, remember that,” he said fiercely. “You are mine. Always. Believe that. Tell me that you do.”
“Stop, Mahdi. You’re scaring me,” she said. “It sounds like you’re going to die.”
“There are things in this world worse than death,” he said. “Tell me, Serafina. Right now. Say you believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“We’ll meet again one day. In a better place,” Mahdi said, his voice husky. He turned away from her then, and swam into the dark waters.
“I love you, Mahdi,” Sera said.
But he was gone.
“NOT MUCH FARTHER NOW,” said Serafina encouragingly.
Coco was exhausted. They’d been on the currents for four days. Sera had tried to get her to stay at the farm. It was safe there. Carlo and Elena doted on her. But Coco refused. She would not be separated from Serafina.
They were about five leagues from Cerulea now and entering the small village of Bassofondo. Serafina headed toward an inn she’d seen signs for, but it was full. She tried two more, but they, too, had sold out every room. She wondered what was going on. Finally, they found a small hotel on the eastern edge of the village.
“We have one room left. It’s small. You’ll have to share a bed. Are you headed to Cerulea too?” the mermaid at the desk asked her.
Serafina hesitated, wary of revealing her plans. “Well, we—” she started to say.
“Oh, of course you are! Everyone’s going. Isn’t it wonderful? He’s coming back! Principe Vallerio, the high commander! He’s heading straight into the city and there’s going to be a big betrothal ceremony when he gets there. To make up for the one that never happened.”
“There is?” Serafina said, astonished.
“Yes! In the Kolisseo. Vallerio’s riders have been going village to village, ordering every merperson within two leagues of Cerulea to attend.”
“The high commander sounds very confident. His army must be a powerful one,” Serafina said, trying to get as much information from the mermaid as she could.
“They say it’s fearsome. Much bigger than Traho’s. The death riders must be terrified. I’m sure they’re packing their bags as we speak, and I say good riddance.” The mermaid handed her a room key. “Here you go. Room Four. Sleep well.”
“Mahdi must know all about this!” Coco said excitedly, as soon as she and Sera were in their room.
“I think you’re right,” said Sera. “He must’ve deserted Traho and told Vallerio that he was only pretending to be on the invaders’ side.”
“He must’ve told Vallerio about you, too,” Coco said. “Your uncle knows you’re alive and that’s why he’s having the betrothal ceremony! As soon as they take back the city, you and Mahdi can do a proper betrothal. Just like you were supposed to do before Cerulea was attacked. We have to get back to the city, Sera! You have to be there! Mahdi and Vallerio are going to be waiting for you!” The little merl was nearly bouncing off the walls.
“And you have to get some sleep. We have five leagues to cover tomorrow.”
She gave Coco some of the food Elena had packed for them. Coco gobbled it, then fell into bed. Abelard snuggled next to her. Seconds later, both Coco and her little shark were fast asleep. Serafina locked the door, turned off the lights, and crept into bed herself. Not that she was able to sleep.
At Elena and Carlo’s, Mahdi had said that Vallerio was seen in the waters off Portugal. That was four days ago—he might be nearly as close to the city as she was now. If that was so, then as soon as tomorrow, she and her uncle might be reunited. She could barely believe this happy turn of events.
Sera closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with hope, not fear, in her heart.
Finally the tide was turning back toward peace.
“I’M SO GLAD you’re not dumb, Yaz,” Neela said.
Yazeed shot her a sidelong glace. “I thought you were going to say dead.”
“That, too.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“You really had us fooled, you and Mahdi. We had no idea you were Blu and Grigio. We thought you were just a couple of idiots.”
“That was the idea.”
Neela looked at her brother. “I’m actually going to miss him.”
“Who?”
“The old Yazeed.”
“He’s still around,” Yaz said. He affected a vapid expression. “Merl, you look fresh to death in that dress! Wanna go to the Sand Bar tonight? The Nepp Tunes are playing. They have the best kombu smoothies. They’re like, totally seagan,” he said.
A second later, the vapid expression was gone and the Yazeed Neela now knew was back. A Yazeed with a hardness to him.
“Wow. You know, that’s actually kind of scary, Yaz. I had no idea you were such a good actor.”
“And I had no idea you were such a good songcaster. Can you try a convoca again? I really need to talk to Mahdi.”
“Sure, but I need to stop and sit down somewhere. The last two times I tried, it was a total fail. I’m hoping it was because I was tired.”
“I see a place down there,” Yaz said, pointing to a hollow under a coral reef.
He and Neela swam to it. Neela sat down for a moment, caught her breath, and tried her hardest to cast a convoca, but once again, she failed.
“You’re beat, that’s all,” Yaz said.
“No, it’s more than that,” Neela said dispiritedly. “Vrăja told us our powers are strongest when we’re all together. The convoca’s one of the hardest songspells there is. I can’t seem to cast it without the others near me. Come on, Yaz, let’s get going. We’ve got to find Mahdi and Sera.”
“Rest for two more minutes, then we’ll swim again,” Yaz said. He sat down on the silty seafloor and leaned his back against the coral, but didn’t close his eyes. He just stared ahead, a grim expression on his face.
Neela and Yazeed were on their way to Cerulea. They’d been swimming for days, stopping to sleep for only a few hours each night. They’d left the palace as fast as they could after Khelefu had been murdered. They’d wanted to be well out of Matali City when their transparensea pearls wore off.
The first night of their journey, they’d sheltered in a sea cave. There, Yazeed had told Neela why he and Mahdi had joined the Praedatori, and she had told him about her nightmare, where it had led her, and what she’d learned.
“Yaz? I think we should get going now,” Neela said, rising. “Yaz? Yaz!” She snapped her fingers in his face.
“Sorry. You ready to go?” he asked, getting up. He still wore a dark expression.
“What is it?” Neela asked, not used to this serious, somber new brother. “Where were you?”
“Back at the palace. Watching Portia Volnero send our grand vizier to his death.”
“We can’t think about that now. Or Mata-ji and Pita-ji. We have to keep going. Find Mahdi. Warn Sera. Get help.”
“She’s going to pay for what she did, Neela. Khelefu was an innocent merman. He didn’t deserve to die.”
“Portia’s completely insane,” Neela said. “Her plan can’t work. How can she have Lucia crowned regina? Only a mermaid with Merrovingian blood in her veins can sit on the throne of Miromara. There’s only one of those, and it’s not Lucia. Alítheia is going to rip her head off.”
“I guess that’s some consolation,” Yazeed said.
“But how
can Portia do it? That’s what I don’t get. She knows what will happen. How can she sit by and watch her only daughter be killed by a bloodthirsty monster?” Neela shook her head. “All this time, Sera and I were sure that Traho had been sent by Admiral Kolfinn, but it turns out Portia’s the one behind all of it.”
“She must’ve been collaborating with Traho from the beginning,” Yaz said.
“She helped him take Cerulea so he could have access to Miromaran waters to search for a talisman—the same one Sera’s searching for right now,” said Neela.
“And in return, Traho’s allowing her to make her daughter the ruler of Miromara, and to betroth her to Mahdi, the future ruler of Matali—a ruler Traho already controls. Or thinks he does.”
“In a realm he already controls. And whose waters—and people—he’s using to try to find Navi’s moonstone. My gods, Yaz, where is it all going to end?” Neela asked.
“Hopefully in Cerulea,” Yaz said.
“What do you mean?”
He told her that the Praedatori had credible information that Miromara’s high commander, Vallerio, had been successful in his bid to align with the Kobold goblins.
“If the info I have is good, Vallerio’s approaching the city as we speak,” Yaz said.
“Is he strong enough to stop Traho?” Neela asked.
“We don’t know. It depends on how many troops the Kobold gave him. And it depends on the dragons. Do the Kobold have any? Because we know the death riders do,” Yazeed replied.
“Where are we, anyway? Are we any closer to Cerulea?” asked Neela, worry in her voice.
“We’re in Miromara. Specifically, we’re in what the goggs call the Mediterranean. Just like the last time you asked.”
“Still? When are we going to hit the Adriatic?”
“By tomorrow morning, if we can keep up a fast pace.”
“We’ve got to get there in time to warn Sera about the Volneros. Portia’s way ahead of us.”
“Yeah, that happens when your ride is a chariot drawn by twelve hammerheads. Best we’ve been able to do is hitch on the back of a whale shark. When did you learn to speak Whalish, anyway?”
“I didn’t. It’s the bloodbind,” Neela said. “At least I still have those powers.”
Yaz looked up. “I see a giant manta above us,” he said. “Lay some RaySay on him, will you, Neels? See if we can catch a ride. And catch up to Portia.”
SERAFINA HEARD the Kobold army before she saw it.
Unlike the mer, goblins had feet, and the seafloor shook violently beneath them as they marched.
“Do you hear that, Sera? There must be a million of them!” Coco whispered. “Just look at that silt cloud rising! I’m heading down to the Corrente with the others. I want to see them up close.”
Serafina grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you don’t, Coco. You wait right here. Traho’s death riders might be waiting to ambush them.”
Serafina and Coco had hidden themselves behind an outcropping of rock above the Grande Corrente, the main route into Cerulea. From their high vantage point, they would be able to see Vallerio and his troops as they neared the city.
Thousands of mer had gathered at the edges of the Corrente, to watch and wait.
Sera was worried for them. If Traho attacked, they’d be caught right in the middle of the fighting.
“Sera, look!” Coco said, pointing.
The first of the fighters crested a ridge. Broad-backed and muscular, with thick, powerful limbs, they carried a lethal assortment of weapons—double-bladed axes, long swords, halberds, and flails—all cast from Kobold steel. They had the facial features of the Feuerkumpel tribe: two nostrils but no nose, transparent eyes, lipless mouths full of sharp teeth, and ears that were mangled or torn off from fighting.
Sera’s uneasiness grew as she remembered the vision she’d had back in the Iele’s caves of a goblin attacking her.
“Where’s my uncle?” she asked, straining to pick him out.
“I can’t see him. Wait…there he is!” Coco said. “In the distance!”
Vallerio, magnificent in a shining suit of armor, rode in a silver chariot in the middle of the Kobold. In one hand, he held the reins of four magnificent black hippokamps. With the other, he saluted the Miromarans.
As the people saw him, a tremendous cheer went up. They rushed into the current, happily greeting their liberators.
Serafina kept a fearful eye on the city gates, on nearby rocks and reefs, and on the waters above, expecting Traho’s troops to come charging at any second. But they didn’t. The waters were eerily quiet.
Vallerio’s chariot passed by, and the cheers of the people became deafening.
“Come on! We’re missing it all! Let’s go!” Coco said. And then she shot off, Abelard zipping after her.
“Coco!” Serafina shouted. “Come back here!”
But the little merl was too far away to hear her. Serafina had no choice but to follow. She was still disguised as a swashbuckler, but she doubted anyone would have noticed her even if she was dressed in full court regalia. They only wanted to see Vallerio.
“Coco!” she called. “Coco, where are you?”
As she searched, she saw a small boy push through the crowd and swim up to a goblin. Instead of smiling at the child, the creature kicked him away. A few yards up the Grande Corrente, a mermaid offered another goblin a laurel made of seaweed. He backhanded her.
My uncle doesn’t know, Sera told herself. He doesn’t know that his troops are behaving badly. As soon as I can get to him, I’ll tell him what they’re doing. They can’t treat our people this way.
As she watched the Kobold, row after row of them, continue to march along, she saw a bright bronze tail flash by. “Coco!” she shouted. She zipped after her and grabbed her arm. “Don’t you do that again!”
“Come on, Sera! Let’s follow them!” Coco said, carried away by the excitement.
“No, stick close to me. I’m still wondering about the death riders. Where are they?”
“There! By the gates. It’s okay, Sera. See?” Coco said.
Sera looked at the gates. Coco was right. Death riders hadn’t been there before, but they were there now, and they weren’t poised to attack. They were lining both sides of the current, spears held upright before them in tribute to her uncle.
“They’ve surrendered!” she said excitedly. “Traho must know he’s outnumbered. He’s handing over the city peaceably, Coco. There won’t be any fighting.”
“I told you!” Coco said.
Joy flooded Serafina’s heart. She let go of Coco’s arm and took her hand. “Let’s go! We’ve got to get to my uncle!” she said.
The goblins’ behavior still unsettled her, and the presence of any death riders—even peaceable ones—made her uneasy, but what mattered most was that her uncle was home and that the city was his. She pushed her misgivings aside and swam ahead, eager to take part in his triumphant return. Eager to see Mahdi, too, and take her place at his side for a public betrothal. When the ceremony was over, she would ask Vallerio if he had any news of her brother. Then she’d show him Neria’s Stone and tell him what needed to be done.
She and Coco followed the other Miromarans to the Kolisseo. That was where it had all begun, and that was where it would end.
The fighting was done.
The invaders were routed.
At last, Serafina thought, it’s over.
VALLERIO’S BLACK HIPPOKAMPS drew his chariot to the center of the Kolisseo. He alighted to cheering.
With Coco right behind her, Serafina tried to make her way through the dense crowd to get to him. He needed her for the Promising.
She was rudely stopped by a Kobold with a pike. “Gå tilbake!” he growled in a deep voice. Go back.
“But I have to see the high commander. He’s—”
“Tilbake!” the Kobold shouted, thrusting the weapon’s steel tip in her face.
Serafina understood him and did as she was told. She and Coco swam into t
he amphitheater and sat down. Abelard swam under Coco’s seat and peered out from her tail fins. Sera decided that she would wait until the crowd settled and her uncle announced the betrothal. Then she would make her presence known. All around them, people were still cheering for Vallerio, but Serafina noticed that the loudest cheers were coming from the Kobold troops and the death riders. Something had changed. The festive atmosphere of the Grande Corrente was gone. The mer of Cerulea looked wary and mistrustful. Some looked downright scared.
A few rows in front of her, a merman was cheering half-heartedly. A goblin noticed, and punched him. “Heie høyere!” the creature shouted. Cheer louder!
Serafina looked around and saw that death riders ringed the top of the Kolisseo, in a dense, tight formation, spears in their hands.
If we wanted to leave, we couldn’t, she thought uneasily.
And then she saw something that made her fins prickle. Above the heads of the death riders, flags rippled. They were red with a black circle in their centers—the same flags she’d seen in the Lagoon.
“Something’s wrong, Coco,” she whispered. “Whatever you do, keep smiling and keep cheering.”
“Something’s way wrong,” Coco said, nodding toward the royal enclosure.
Serafina followed her gaze. In front of the enclosure, resting on a dais, was Merrow’s golden crown. Behind it were two ornate thrones. The last time Serafina had been here, they’d been occupied by her mother and Emperor Bilaal. This time, her mother’s was empty and Mahdi was sitting in the other one.
His expression was somber. His hands, resting on the arms of his chair, were clenched. He was dressed in the black uniform of the death riders, and wearing a matching sea-silk turban. In the center of it was the magnificent Bramaphur Emerald. Serafina recognized it. Bilaal had worn it. Why wasn’t Mahdi smiling? Why wasn’t he searching the crowd for her?
Sera continued to scan the royal enclosure, hoping for answers. Directly behind Mahdi sat Portia Volnero, resplendently dressed in a gown of gold sea silk. She should have been sitting with the other duchessas of the realm, but was sitting apart in a chair only slightly less ornate than the two thrones. She was smiling serenely. The other duchessas were not.