As Neela led the child away, Serafina’s smile faded. She grabbed Yazeed’s hand and put something into it. He looked down and saw that he was holding a necklace with a big blue diamond in its center.
“Give it to Neela if I don’t,” she said.
SERAFINA, STILL VISIBLE, cautiously swam into the ruined stateroom of Cerulea’s palace.
She’d taken a secret passageway from the stables to get here. It was a risky move, but she didn’t have a choice. Transparensea pearls often wore off without notice, and she didn’t want to activate the one Yaz had given her until she was well inside the palace. It was an enormous place and she knew it could take time to find her uncle.
Sneaking by two grooms and three death riders to get inside the stables had taken some doing. Luckily, they’d been so busy drinking posidonia wine in celebration of Lucia’s Dokimí that they hadn’t noticed Sera as she’d crossed the exercise yard, swimming low behind bales of sea hay.
Now, as she crossed the stateroom, she looked at the gaping hole where its east wall had once stood. A mournful current swept through it. Anemones and seaweeds grew along its broken edges. She swam to the throne, then bent down to touch the floor near it. Head bowed, she stayed there for quite some time, remembering her mother. Then she rose and backed away from it.
As she did, a movement behind the throne startled her. She spun toward it, dagger out, then realized she was seeing herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the wall.
For a moment, she worried that Rorrim might be lurking behind the network of cracks in the silver glass, or worse yet, the eyeless man. But the mirrors were empty.
She took the transparensea pearl out of her pocket and cast it. Now all she had to do was figure out where her uncle was. His living quarters were in the palace’s north wing, so she decided to start there. To get to them, she had to swim past her mother’s presence chamber into the north corridor. As she approached the chamber, she saw that its door was closed. But voices were carrying through it.
Careful not to make any noise, she pressed an ear to the door. The voices belonged to Vallerio and Portia. But she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Sera quickly swam through a hole in the stateroom wall and around the side of the palace to see if the Presence Chamber’s tall windows were open. Luckily, one was. She squeezed through the opening, and swam silently into a corner to listen and watch.
“If the people knew…if they ever find out…” her uncle was saying.
“The people are fools. No one has any idea you were behind the invasion. You covered your wake well. You warned Isabella that Ondalina would wage war. Kolfinn inadvertently helped us by breaking the permutavi.”
“I still don’t know why he did it,” Vallerio said.
“Nor do I. And I don’t care. It was a real piece of luck for us. So was your begging Isabella to declare war on the very day of the attack. The councillors who survived will remember your words and tell the people how wise you were.”
“But how were the payments made? If they find that gold is missing from the vaults…”
“He paid Traho. As promised. And the councillors will have no problem paying the Kobold, because they saw how you used them to liberate the city,” Portia said, laughing.
Sera wondered who this he was.
“That was a stroke of genius, my darling,” Portia continued. “Making it look as though you and the Kobold frightened Traho into surrendering. Now that the beasts are here, they can root out the resistance for us. Miromara is ours. Matali is ours. Soon Qin will be, too. Mfeme is on his way there as we speak. Atlantica will fall next, then Ondalina, and finally the Freshwaters. Soon our daughter will rule all the waters of the world!”
“Nineteen years,” Vallerio said. “That’s how long I’ve waited for this. How long I’ve waited to make you mine. To be the family we always should have been. To put our daughter on the throne.”
Serafina put a hand against a wall to steady herself. She felt as if she’d been gutted.
It wasn’t Admiral Kolfinn who’d ordered Traho to attack Miromara. And it wasn’t Kolfinn who’d collaborated with the gogg Mfeme. All this time, it was Vallerio, her own uncle. He hadn’t escaped to the north to bring liberating troops back to Cerulea. He went there for reinforcements—for goblin thugs who would make sure that no one challenged Lucia’s coronation. And he and Portia weren’t going to stop with Miromara; they planned to invade every mer realm. As soon as she was in the azzuros, and the safe house, she would warn the others. Astrid, too. Astrid had been telling the truth; Ondalina had nothing to do with the invasion.
Portia picked up a bottle of posidonia wine on a table and filled two glasses. She handed one to Vallerio. “Things are going so well. Even better than I’d hoped,” she said, touching her glass to his. “He’s pleased, and why wouldn’t he be? He has the black pearl, and now Mahdi’s found the blue diamond for him.”
Serafina’s heart nearly stopped. Who in the gods’ names was he? She had to find out. Whoever this person was had Orfeo’s talisman. She and her friends would have to get it from him.
“He’ll want the other talismans, too,” Vallerio said. “They were his price for helping us. We mustn’t keep him waiting.”
“We won’t,” Portia said. “The camps are full. The prisoners are working day and night to find the talismans.”
Camps? Prisoners? What is she talking about? Serafina wondered. Then she remembered that Neela had mentioned something similar. Was Traho taking people prisoner and forcing them to work?
“All obstacles are being overcome, Vallerio,” Portia continued, “and all threats to our power eliminated. That fool Mahdi is on our side, and will continue to be as long as we keep giving him money. Bilaal and Ahadi are dead. Aran and Sananda are our hostages. Bastiaan is dead. Happily, Isabella is, too.”
“Happily?” Vallerio echoed. “It’s not a happy thing, Portia. She was my sister. I wish it could have ended differently.”
Portia had no such sentiments. “Come, Vallerio, this is no time for regrets. What we’ve done, we’ve done for the good of the realm.”
“She was only following Merrow’s decree, that only a daughter of a daughter can rule Miromara, not a daughter of a son,” Vallerio said, gazing into his glass.
Portia snorted. “Of course she was! That was one of Isabella’s so-called strong points—slavishly following Merrow’s absurd decrees. It’s time for some new decrees—our decrees. Handed down to the people by our daughter.”
Vallerio nodded. “You’re right, my love. Of course you are.”
Portia smiled. “You mustn’t lose your nerve. Not now. We’re almost there. Soon, nothing will be able to stop us.”
“Is there any news of Desiderio?” Vallerio asked. “Of Serafina?”
“We have death riders tracking Desiderio. They haven’t found him yet, but they will. As for Serafina, she’s proving to be tougher to capture than I anticipated. But sooner or later, her luck will run out. I tell anyone who asks that she’s dead, and soon she will be. The death riders have their orders and they’ll carry them out. Our daughter’s rule is not assured as long as Isabella’s daughter lives.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Enter!” Vallerio said.
A servant swam into the room. “Your Graces,” he said, “the betrothal dinner is about to begin.”
Vallerio offered Portia his arm and they left the presence chamber together. As the door closed behind them, Serafina felt an overwhelming urge to destroy the room, to smash everything Vallerio and Portia had touched. She fought it down. Only fools alerted enemies to their presence.
She swam back out of the window, and headed for the kelp forest and her friends. Yazeed was right. They had to get out of Cerulea. The sooner, the better.
As Sera swam, she quietly sang a lamentatio, a mer funeral dirge.
She had just lost another member of her family.
SERAFINA LEANED HER head back and stared up through the f
ronds of the kelp forest. Night was falling. She could see the rising moon’s pale rays on the water.
“‘Happily.’ That’s what she said. ‘Happily,’ Isabella is dead….As she smiled and sipped her wine.”
Her voice caught. Coco twined her arms around her waist. Neela kissed her cheek. Yaz took her hand.
“Oh, Sera,” Neela said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Finally, when she was able to speak again, Sera said, “Somebody has a talisman. Orfeo’s black pearl. I don’t know who he is, only that Vallerio and Portia are helping him. Yaz, Neela, do you know? And do you know anything about labor camps and prisoners?”
Neela told her everything that had happened to her after they’d parted company in the Incantarium.
Sera was sickened by her description of the labor camps. “How could they do such a thing? How could my uncle?” she asked. “Nothing can explain it. Not even his nineteen years of pain.”
“We’ve got to find out who this he is,” Yazeed said, releasing her hand.
“We’ve got to get the black pearl from him,” said Serafina.
“We’ve got to get out of here first,” Neela said.
The kelp they were hiding in grew so densely that they had to float upright in it. They could not sit down and stretch their tails out.
“Who are we still missing?” Yazeed asked.
“Bartolomeo and Luca,” came the reply from farther in the kelp. It was Niccolo.
“We wait for another half hour, then we head for the safe house,” Yaz said.
Serafina felt a thump. Coco had nodded off, floating upright. The child’s heavy head had fallen on her shoulder.
“I’m going to swim a little farther into the forest,” she whispered, picking Coco up. “See if I can find a place where she can stretch out. I won’t go too far. Give a whistle when the others get here.”
Yazeed nodded and Serafina pushed her way through the tall, leafy stalks. Abelard followed her. A few minutes later she came across a small clearing—only it wasn’t empty, as she’d hoped. It contained two long earthen mounds. Each had broken bits of bronze statuary lying on top of it. She saw a torso on one. A hand. A plaque. Fins. Part of a tail.
She bent over and carefully lowered Coco to the ground. The little merl woke instantly. “What’s going on?” she asked fearfully. “Death riders?”
“Shh, Coco, it’s okay. I was just trying to find a place for you to sleep,” Serafina said.
Coco blinked at the mounds. “What are those? Graves?” she asked.
“I think so,” said Serafina.
She swam closer and saw that the broken pieces had been arranged in an orderly fashion, with the tail fins at the bottom of the mounds, and faces at the top. She leaned over to have a look at the bronze faces, and realized, with a gasp, that she knew them. They were the faces of her parents.
Fresh sorrow welled up inside Sera. She dropped to the sea-floor, wondering how it was possible that her heart could break over and over again and still keep on beating.
The pieces scattered across the graves, she thought. They’re from statues that used to stand in Cerulea. She recognized one of her mother. It had stood in a square in the fabra and had been a very good likeness of her.
Hand-lettered markers at the heads of the graves proclaimed the occupants to be the Regina Isabella and her consort, Principe Bastiaan. MAY YOU REST IN STILL WATERS was written under each of their names.
As Sera traced the letters of her father’s name, she heard an agitated rustling in the kelp stalks. A few seconds later, an angry old merman with a rusty spear stormed into the clearing. He looked like a stickleback—gray on top and orange underneath, with short, spiky fins.
“What are you doing here?” he asked crossly, pointing his spear at her.
“We’re paying our respects,” Serafina said.
“Oh,” he said, lowering the spear. “Well, that’s all right, then. I was worried you was some of them filthy marauders who killed the regina and her husband.”
“No,” Serafina said. “We didn’t even know their graves were here. Who buried them?”
“I did. Name’s Frammento. I live just over there.” He hooked a thumb behind him. “I make my living picking the dump and selling what I find. Found a bit more than I bargained for one night—two bodies wrapped up in a blood-soaked carpet.”
Sera flinched at his words, but quickly masked her grief. She didn’t want the old merman to guess who she was.
“They was Isabella and Bastiaan,” Frammento continued. “Traho’s thugs must’ve wanted to get rid of ’em all quiet-like so none of their subjects would have a place to gather. I was heartbroken when I found ’em. Mad as hell, too. I carried ’em away and gave ’em a proper burial.”
“That was very good of you,” Sera said, more grateful to the merman than she’d ever be able to say.
“It’s not much. Wish I could’ve done more. I had nothing to fancy the graves up with at first, but then Traho started pulling down statues and I was able to collect some pieces and bring ’em here. No one knew about the graves at first, but then one or two people happened on ’em and word spread. More and more come to pay their respects now. I’ll leave you in peace to pay yours.” He tipped his cap and then he was gone.
Coco, who was peering closely at the graves, said, “Oh, no. Sera, look at that.” She pointed to a small pile of rubble near the top of Isabella’s grave.
It was the crown that had rested on the statue’s head. It had been made not from gold or silver, but from red coral branches—a gift from the sea.
“It must’ve cracked and fallen off when Frammento put the head here,” Coco said as Abelard nosed the pieces. “I’ll fix it. I’m really good at canta prax. I was always breaking Ellie’s stuff and I always fixed it before she found out.” She sat down on the ground and started to fit the pieces back together.
Serafina barely heard her. She was looking at her mother’s beautiful face. Strong and serene, it gazed out at her now. She touched its cold cheek.
“The resistance is so brave, but it’s weak and scattered, Mom,” she whispered. “Safe houses are being raided. There isn’t enough to eat. Some of our people are very sick. So much needs to be done. Here in Cerulea against Vallerio and Portia. Out in the seas against Abbadon. I don’t know where to start.”
Her mother always had the answer. And Sera desperately needed it now. But the bronze face was silent.
“Got it!” Coco suddenly said. The coral crown was whole again. She lifted it off the seafloor, carried it to Serafina, and placed it on her head.
“This was Isabella’s crown but she’s gone, so it’s yours. You’re the regina now. Not Lucia,” she said. She threw her arms around Serafina’s neck and hugged her tightly.
Sera hugged Coco back, grateful for the little merl’s faith in her, and for her constant love. As Sera released Coco, her eyes fell on the plaque that had adorned the base of Isabella’s statue. She could see the words incised upon it. She knew them well. They had been the motto of Merrow, and of every Merrovingian ruler since.
The love of the sea folk is my strength.
That was it. The answer she needed. It had been there all along.
She heard Thalassa’s voice now: A ruler’s greatest power comes from her heart—from the love she bears her subjects, and the love they bear her.
Vrăja’s: Nothing is more powerful than love.
And Elena’s: Love’s the greatest magic of all.
Love was Merrow’s greatest power. And her mother’s. It would be hers, too. She would fight to the death for her people. She would take her city, and her realm, back. She would stop the evil in the Southern Sea. Not with terror, cruelty, and hatred, like Traho. But with love.
“Thank you, Mom,” she whispered.
“Come on,” she said to Coco, as she rose. “Let’s go. It’s time we got to the safe house and got ourselves organized again. I have a resistance to lead.”
As the two swam off to join the othe
rs, Serafina’s back was straight, her head was high.
There was a dangerous new light in her eyes.
IN THE EAST CHINA SEA, a large trawler moved slowly through the water. Rafe Iaoro Mfeme was sitting in a chair on the ship’s aft deck, watching the last rays of the sun paint the sky. His hair was covered by a baseball cap. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. A flawless black pearl dangled from a chain around his neck. His right hand was bloodied.
Across from him was a mermaid bound to a chair with rope. Blood dripped off her chin. Her head lolled on her chest. One of her black braids had come loose.
Her sword rested on top of a table. Her bag had been torn apart. Its contents lay strewn across the deck—a few cowries, some transparensea pebbles, a water apple, and letter tiles from a terragogg word game.
“This is getting tedious,” Mfeme said, turning to her.
The mermaid lifted her head and spat out a mouthful of blood. Her lip was split. One of her eyes was swollen shut.
“Sorry to hear you say that,” Ling said. “I’m having a fabulous time.”
Mfeme cracked his knuckles. “I’ll ask you again: where is the talisman?”
“And I’ll tell you again: I have no idea,” Ling said.
“Do you think I’m joking? I’ll cut your ears off and throw them to the sharks.”
“Good. I won’t have to listen to you anymore.”
Mfeme grabbed Ling’s hair and yanked her head back.
“There are all kinds of pain, Ling. There’s the kind you’re feeling right now, but there’s a worse kind, too. The kind you’re going to feel when I find your father, haul him up on this boat, and cut off his ears, all because you won’t tell me what I want to know.”
“Good luck with that. My father’s dead. I don’t know where the talisman is. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Mfeme let go of her. “I’d like to kill you. I’d like that very much.”
“Then do it and stop wasting my time.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t. You’re valuable to me and you know it. You’re smart, Ling, but you’re not smart enough. All this time, and you still have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”