Becca’s head knew this, but her heart wouldn’t listen. These two opposing parts of her lobbed arguments back and forth like a ball at a caballabong match. One minute, she wished she’d told him she loved him—as he’d told her. The next, she was furious at herself for even considering such a reckless action. She worried about what her friends would think of her if they ever discovered her feelings for Marco, then hated herself for caring.
She stopped now, overcome by longing, and looked up through the waters at the moon shining high above. Maybe Marco was looking up at the moon, too, and thinking of her. She hoped so, even if it was stupid and hopeless and totally impossible.
Is he safe? she wondered. She knew that Orfeo and his thugs were after him, and that the Praedatori were too scattered to protect him. He’d had to leave the college where he was studying, but he couldn’t go home to his family’s palazzo in Venice, because it was being watched. Is he on the water or on land? Is he happy? Has he found a terragogg girl and forgotten all about me?
“Why?” she whispered, clenching her hands into fists. “Why not Desiderio, or Yazeed, or any one of the other amazing Black Fins? Why a human?” Tears stung behind her blue eyes.
This secret love was torture. She wished she could confide in one of her friends. Maybe Neela, Ling, or Sera could help her make sense of her feelings. She’d promised herself she would, a hundred times at least, but she always ended up backing away, too scared that they wouldn’t understand.
When you keep a secret, the secret keeps you. Those were the very words she’d said to Astrid when she was trying to get her to tell the others about her inability to sing. If only she could follow her own advice, but it was so hard to confide in others, to trust them.
Becca was an orphan, and her early life—spent in a series of foster homes—had taught her that it was unwise to show vulnerability. If you were vulnerable, you were weak, and weak mer had their stuff stolen or got pushed to the back of the line at mealtimes.
Becca’s early experiences had made her the self-reliant and organized mermaid that she was, and she was proud of that, but those tough years had made her something else, too—a mermaid who was good at giving help but bad at asking for it.
Becca’s tears were brimming now. She angrily blinked them away. “Stop it. This instant,” she told herself. “Crying won’t help you find a lava seam.”
Practical to a fault, Becca pushed her painful feelings down and kept swimming. She arrived at the storehouse a few minutes later, unlocked it, and swam inside. Glancing around, she spotted some shovels leaning against a wall.
The work crew in charge of the lava detail had covered a lot of seafloor, but there was a good deal more to search. Becca grabbed a shovel, locked the storehouse, then swam north through the black water, determined to get a head start on the day, organize her work crews, keep everything and everyone under tight control.
It was the only way to silence the one thing she couldn’t control: her willful, traitorous heart.
MAHDI WATCHED closely as Vallerio, Miromara’s high commander, moved tiny marble soldiers across a map that lay on the table in front of them. Mahdi’s dark eyes were troubled. He’d returned from the western border an hour ago, only to be pulled into a military meeting.
“We have over fifty thousand weapons hidden in warehouses throughout Qin,” Vallerio said, frowning, “and the same number of troops infiltrating the realm. The question is: Do I move more soldiers in and attack now, or do I wait?”
“For what?” Portia Volnero, Vallerio’s wife, asked, with an impatient toss of her head. “The sooner Qin is ours, the better.” She’d recently returned from Ondalina, where she’d forced the new admiral, Ragnar Kolfinnsson, to swear allegiance to Miromara.
“I’m worried about the Black Fins,” Vallerio said. “I’ve sent battalions to the Southern Sea as well. Just in case.”
“In case of what?” Mahdi asked. He knew, but his information had come from Sera, not Vallerio, so he had to pretend ignorance or Vallerio might become suspicious.
“In case of trouble,” Vallerio said evasively. “One of our allies has…” He paused slightly, then said, “…interests there that require our protection.”
“Which ally is that?” Mahdi pressed.
“You haven’t met him yet. But you will. All in good time,” Vallerio assured Mahdi. His tone brooked no further discussion. Mahdi let the matter drop, but he knew who the unnamed ally was: Orfeo.
The fact that Vallerio was moving troops into the Antarctic waters raised the scales on Mahdi’s tail. Was Orfeo planning to enter those waters soon? He would have to get word to Sera, via his courier. Allegra, a Miromaran farmer, secretly brought and took message conchs for Mahdi when she delivered produce to the palace kitchens.
Vallerio frowned at the map now. “If the Black Fins discover we’ve moved so many of our soldiers out of Miromara, they might attack us.”
Portia laughed. “The Black Fins shouldn’t worry you, Vallerio. According to our spy, Guldemar only gave Serafina twenty thousand troops. She wouldn’t dare attack with such a paltry number.”
Vallerio’s frown deepened. “Serafina has Guldemar’s ear. She might get more troops out of him. Perhaps we should neutralize the Black Fins before we attack Qin.”
Mahdi’s stomach lurched at that, but he kept his expression neutral and chose his words carefully, knowing that what he said next could save or doom Serafina. “I think that would be a mistake.”
Vallerio raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Why?”
“Serafina only has Guldemar’s ear as long as she has gold,” Mahdi explained. “Thanks to your spy, we know how much treasure the Black Fins stole from us, and how much of it Sera paid to Guldemar. Because of our ambushes, she’s also had to pay for additional shipments of food and weapons. She’s running out of funds, her troops are few, and she has no idea that many of our soldiers are in Qin and the Southern Sea. She wouldn’t dare attack us now. We should take Qin, and then annihilate the Black Fins.”
Vallerio digested Mahdi’s words, then nodded approvingly. “I like your thinking,” he said. “I’ll have death riders continue to harass the Black Fins, but no large-scale attack. Not yet.”
Mahdi forced a smile. Relief washed over him. He’d bought the Black Fins more time. He’d kept them safe. That was why he was here in Cerulea, why he’d gotten close to Lucia and her parents, why he risked his life every minute of every day conducting this dangerous charade.
But his relief was short-lived.
“In fact, I like the way you think so much, I’m sending you to Guldemar,” Vallerio said.
“For what purpose?” Mahdi asked. His fins were prickling, but once again, he hid his true feelings.
“To get him to break with the Black Fins. Bribe him, Mahdi. Threaten him. Do whatever you have to do, but make him see that it’s in his best interest to ally himself with us, not Serafina,” said Vallerio. “I want you to go tomorrow.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Portia trilled.
“I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Mahdi said. His smile was still in place, but inside he was cursing Vallerio. The last thing he wanted to do was talk Guldemar out of helping Sera.
“Excellent. Now,” Vallerio said, focusing on his map again, “after we take Qin, I think we should—”
His words were cut off as the door to the stateroom opened and Lucia entered, in a swirl of lavender sea silk.
“Darling!” Portia said warmly.
Lucia smiled brightly. Too brightly. It made Mahdi uneasy.
Over the past few weeks, she’d been slipping out of the palace at night. Mahdi didn’t know where she went. He’d tried to have her followed, but she always lost the tails. Bianca had always accompanied her, but one night only Lucia had returned. When asked the next day about her friend’s disappearance, she’d professed to know nothing.
Mahdi had noticed a change in Lucia ever since she’d started making these trips. She’d become more hot-tempered, b
ut oddly, her eyes had grown colder. The eyes are the windows to the soul, the goggs said, and Lucia’s were full of shadows.
Lucia kissed her mother and father, then swam to Mahdi and took his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here with my parents. I have the most wonderful news!” she said. “I’m moving the date of our wedding up! We’ll marry in two moons’ time. During the next syzygy.”
Mahdi’s heart nearly stopped. He couldn’t speak. Luckily he didn’t have to. Lucia kept talking.
“We spoke about this once before, Mahdi, remember?” she said. “You were worried about the instability in the realms, and my safety. But my father is putting that behind us, so I see no reason to wait any longer. I want us to be married.”
“This is rather sudden,” Vallerio said.
Portia echoed her husband’s concern. “Lucia, we’ve already announced the date. It’s official. We have a guest list. Leaders from other realms are invited. I really don’t think—”
Lucia spun around. Her smile was gone. Her eyes were hard. “I don’t care what you think, Mother. I’m the regina here, not you, and this is what I want,” she snapped.
Portia, surprised by the menace in her daughter’s voice, took a stroke backward. She and Vallerio glanced at each other. He seemed equally taken aback.
“I—I guess we could have a private ceremony,” she finally said. “For family and friends. And keep the state ceremony on the agreed date.”
“Whatever,” Lucia said dismissively. She turned back to Mahdi. She must’ve glimpsed something in his expression that she didn’t like, for her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Aren’t you happy?”
Mahdi wasn’t. Far from it.
He knew that when he sang the first note of his marriage vows, the dangerous game he was playing would be over. If a Promised mer sang marriage vows to anyone but his or her betrothed, the vows would fall flat. Lucia, Portia, and everyone else at the ceremony would discover that he’d Promised himself to another, and it wouldn’t take them long to figure out who it was. Vallerio would throw him in the dungeons, if he didn’t put an arrow through his heart.
Mahdi also knew that he had to give the performance of his life now.
He raised Lucia’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m beyond happy,” he lied. “Our wedding day can’t some soon enough. Why not tonight?”
Lucia flushed with pleasure. “That’s too soon!” she said, laughing. “The regina’s wedding requires a syzygy, remember? Be patient!”
“I’ll try my best,” Mahdi said, smiling at her.
“Can you come for a swim through the gardens?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Later, I promise. Your father, mother, and I are busy protecting your realm. And you know that nothing is more important to me than your safety.”
Lucia nodded. She kissed his cheek, then swam out of the room.
Portia watched her daughter go, an expression of misgiving on her face. “Never mind Qin,” she said, as guards closed the door after Lucia. “Thanks to Lucia’s news, it’ll have to wait. What we need to do, right now, is kill Serafina, before she brings all our plans toppling down.”
“But the Black Fins aren’t a threat,” Vallerio protested. “We just discussed this!”
“I’m not talking about the Black Fins,” Portia retorted. “I’m talking about Sera. She’s the true heir to the throne. Lucia’s claim is only legitimate if she’s dead. All along, we’ve stated that Sera was killed in the invasion of Cerulea and that any claim to the contrary was the work of an imposter. Mer believed that at first, but now some of them believe Sera’s alive. Our spy tells me that some of our own citizens are fleeing to the Kargjord to join her.”
As Portia was speaking, Mahdi saw a chance to help Sera. “Who is this spy, anyway? Are you certain his information is reliable?” he asked, hoping that Portia might give him something he could pass on to the Black Fins.
But she was too cagey. “No names, Mahdi. What if you fall into the Black Fins’ hands and they pull a bloodsong from you? Let’s just say the spy is close to Serafina and has my trust completely.”
“Good to know,” Mahdi said. His tone was casual, but inside he was desperate. He had to derail Portia’s murderous plan. “But are you sure killing Serafina is a wise move?” he asked. “She’s been granted sanctuary by Guldemar. If we send troops into the Kargjord, which is his territory, he’ll view it as an act of aggression. We don’t want a war with the Meerteufel.”
“All the more reason for you to bring Guldemar over to our side,” Portia said.
Vallerio weighed in. “You’re right, of course, my darling,” he said, then turned to Mahdi. “Take six chests of treasure with you to Scaghaufen to whet Guldemar’s appetite for an alliance.”
“I will,” said Mahdi. “But you know what the Meerteufel are like. What if he refuses? What if he won’t allow our troops into the Karg to attack the Black Fins?”
Portia smiled darkly. “Then we don’t send troops. All we need is one soldier with a crossbow and, voila, we get rid of Serafina the same way we got rid of Isabella—with an arrow to the heart.”
“That’s not possible. Serafina’s surrounded by her fighters,” Mahdi said, glad he’d found a weakness in Portia’s plan, a way to shut this discussion down. “There’s no way we could get a lone soldier through them.”
“Actually,” Portia said, “we already have.”
Mahdi tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Listen closely, Mahdi. This is an important lesson for the future,” Portia instructed. “When you choose a spy, make sure to choose someone with many talents; that way they can do more for you than merely gather info.”
Mahdi felt sick. He wanted to swim out of the room as fast as he could, find Allegra, and get a conch to Sera to warn her. Instead, he jokingly slapped his forehead and said, “Of course. Portia, you’re a genius.”
Portia smiled. “It’ll cost us our informant, unfortunately, and we’re not ready to lose this operative just yet. But as soon as we’ve got all the information we need, we give the word, and then”—Portia’s smile hardened—“our spy becomes our assassin.”
THE WEBS were slung low over the swamp, from tree limb to tree limb, like giant white hammocks.
The creatures who’d spun them, each as big as a large dog, scuttled back and forth above the dark water, checking the webs, hoping to find a hapless bird, a fat raccoon, or a juicy human snared in them.
But it wasn’t the fierce arachnids that Manon Laveau was searching for in the Spiderlair.
“Where are you, child? And where are you, you nasty water devils?” she muttered, peering into her seeing stone.
“Manon Laveau, what the hell are you doing?” Jean Lafitte shouted, startling the swamp queen. She’d thought she was alone. “Have you gone cooyon? What if you lay eyes on one of those Okwa?”
“You’re jumpier than a frog in a stew pot, Lafitte,” Manon said, trying to shrug him off. “I won’t lay eyes on an Okwa, not up close. I’ll only see an image in the stone.”
“No one who sees the Okwa Naholo, no matter whatever which way, lives to tell about it,” Lafitte said ominously, wagging a beringed finger at her. “Playing with waterfire, that’s what you’re doing.”
“You’re the frettingest pirate I ever met! Hush now!” Manon snapped. He’d rattled her. Embarrassed her, too. She didn’t want him, or anyone else, to know that she was worried about Ava.
“Why do you care what happens to that fool of a mermaid? She’s trouble!” Lafitte shot back. “You’re not yourself these days. You coming down with something?”
Manon didn’t answer him. Instead, she thought. She thought about people who would do anything for power and wealth. She’d seen terragoggs bulldoze her precious swamp, pollute its waters, and kill its rare creatures. And that new shack bully over in Miromara—Vallerio—he was mer, but he was just as bad. Traho, too. They’d destroy the world, and everything in it, for a bigger castle, a shinier char
iot, or a chest full of gold.
Manon had seen much in her time, and she’d become hard, even cynical, as a result. She’d become unwilling to help others, because so few of them deserved help. But she still believed one thing with all her heart: that she was here to protect the swamp and pass it on to those who came after, just as her forebears had passed it on to her.
She knew that her life was a gift she’d one day have to give back. Horok would take her soul. The swamp would take her flesh and bones. It would break them down and use them to nourish the creatures of the dark waters, just as those creatures had nourished her.
That was nature’s way. That was the circle of life. And now this thing, this abomination, this Orfeo wanted to break that circle. Because he was arrogant and selfish and could not accept his wife’s mortality, or his own. Well, maybe it was high time he learned to.
“Manon? Manon Laveau, have you gone deaf? I asked you a question!”
“Yes, Lafitte,” Manon said at length, “I am sick. Sick to death.”
“What’s wrong? Leech fever? Where’s the pain?”
“In my heart.”
The ghost shook his head sorrowfully. “That’s no good. You’re a goner for sure.”
“Maybe so. But if I’m going, I’m taking a few with me,” Manon said decisively.
Summoning all her powers of concentration, she stared into the stone again. She couldn’t see any sort of swamp spirit, which was good. But she couldn’t see Ava, either, which wasn’t.
Ever since she’d heard the mermaid’s story, Manon felt a strong sense of duty toward her. She wanted to protect her, to help her succeed in her quest. Mostly because she’d come to care for Ava, but also because saving her meant saving the swamp, and all its creatures, from Orfeo.
Manon knew that Ava hadn’t been captured by Traho, because he and his men were lost in the Blackwaters. She’d seen them in the seeing stone moments ago and had had a good long laugh at their expense.
Waterfire Saga, Book Four: Sea Spell: Deep Blue Novel, A Page 5