Waterfire Saga (4 Book Series), Page 3

  But Laktara was laughing so hard, she couldn’t speak. Falla, her sister, had to finish the story.

  “It wasn’t just any ship we destroyed,” Falla said, giggling herself. “It was a cruise ship. There were a thousand goggs aboard. They threw themselves over the railing—splish, splash, sploosh—to get to us!”

  Vola, a third sister, was laughing, too. “Of course, the closer they came, the farther away we swam, until they were ab-so-lute-ly exhausted! Even as they drowned, they were still reaching for us. Darling, you’ve never seen anything funnier!”

  “Or sampled anything tastier!” Falla whispered.

  “Falla, you naughty thing! Hush!” Vola scolded.

  Falla said, “Sorry!”

  Laktara snorted. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am,” Vola insisted. Then, in a mischievous whisper, she added, “I’m sorry I didn’t kill more of them!”

  The three sisters dissolved into helpless giggles, and Lucia joined them. They were her distant cousins, her good friends—and sirens, though publicly they denied it.

  Sirens sang for currensea. Some even sang for the goggs. Stories were told of secret concerts held in Venetian palazzos for which the singers were paid in jewels.

  Rumor had it that sirens ate their kills, but Lucia dismissed the gossip. Oh, her cousins might joke about it, but she was quite certain they only did so to shock. Though she had to admit that, every now and then, when the illusio spells the three sisters continually spun flickered and faded, Lucia could see that their pearly teeth were sharper than she’d thought, their crimson nails longer, their eyes colder.

  The sisters, who looked very much alike, lived in the waters off the coast of Greece. Lucia had invited them to Cerulea because she had news she wanted to share. They’d arrived an hour ago. Lucia had hurried them to her rooms, had sweets and tea brought, and then asked them to give their opinions on a selection of gowns.

  She swam out from behind the screen now in a clingy pale green sea-silk dress embroidered with seed pearls. Her blue-black hair swirled around her shoulders. Her sapphire eyes appraised her reflection in a mirror.

  “Well?”

  Falla wrinkled her nose. Vola shook her head. “Nothing special,” Laktara said with a sniff.

  Lucia snapped her fingers, and her maid brought her another gown. It met with a similar reaction. So did the one that followed it. Lucia, growing frustrated, tried on a fourth.

  “What about this one?” she asked as she swam to the center of the room and twirled around.

  The gown was made of thousands of sliver-thin slices of emerald stitched onto a sheath of dark green sea silk. The jewels overlapped like fish scales. They caught the light and held it. Lucia’s tiniest movement made the entire gown sparkle.

  “I love it!” Vola declared.

  Laktara agreed, but Falla asked, “Why the fashion show, Luce? Is there a ball coming up? Is that why you invited us here?”

  Lucia sat down with her cousins. She looked at each in turn, then said, “You’ve just helped me pick my wedding dress. I haven’t told anyone else yet, but I’m going to move the date of the ceremony up.”

  Vola arched an eyebrow. “Harpoon wedding, darling?” she asked with a smirk.

  Lucia rolled her eyes. “Get your mind out of the abyss, please.”

  “Does the groom know?” asked Falla.

  “I haven’t told him yet. He’s away with his troops patrolling the western border. It’s going to be a surprise,” Lucia lied. “He’s been begging me to move the date up. He’s head over tail in love, so why wait any longer? We’ll marry in less than two moons’ time, when there’s a syzygy.”

  “Why wait that long?” Vola asked.

  “I don’t have a choice. Miromaran royal weddings have to take place during a syzygy, when the sun, earth, and moon are aligned. The tides are at their highest then, and magic’s at its strongest. It’s the law, and unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it. That’s why I invited you here. To ask you to be my bridesmaids.”

  Vola squealed. Falla hugged Lucia.

  And Laktara held up a hand. “Just a minute! Before I commit, I need to know what the dresses look like.”

  When Lucia assured her that all three bridesmaid gowns would be made from sea silk and mother-of-pearl and would be almost as beautiful as her own, Laktara agreed. There were more hugs and kisses, and then Lucia suggested that her cousins retire to the chambers her maids had prepared for them.

  “You’ve had a long journey. I’m sure you’ll want to rest for a bit, then freshen up before dinner,” she said, affecting concern.

  The three sisters took their leave, talking all the while about which young noblemer or death rider officer they intended to enchant at dinner.

  Lucia closed the door behind them, leaned against it, and exhaled. Her cousins loved to gossip. By the end of the week, the entire palace would know that she and Mahdi were so much in love, they’d moved up their wedding date. Everyone would be consumed by the news. Even her father would have to turn his attention away from matters of state for a while and focus on her wedding.

  Which was exactly what Lucia wanted.

  Vallerio had discovered that the Black Fin resistance had placed a spy in the palace. His own spy, embedded in the Black Fins’ camp, had told him so but hadn’t been able to find out who it was. Vallerio had informed Lucia—just last night—that he was closing in on the traitor.

  Lucia already knew who it was: Mahdi.

  If her father discovered what Mahdi was doing, and that he’d Promised himself to Serafina right before he’d Promised himself to her, Lucia, he’d kill Mahdi on the spot. He wouldn’t even give Lucia the chance to explain that Mahdi had only done these things because Sera had enchanted him.

  Lucia had learned the truth by drugging Mahdi and pulling bloodsongs from his heart. In them she’d seen his Promising ceremony with Sera. Lucia knew that a Promised merman couldn’t marry someone else. The magic wouldn’t work. The notes of the marriage songspell would fall flat.

  Sera must have used darksong on Mahdi, Lucia had concluded. There was no other way to explain his actions. No merman could possibly prefer Sera to her.

  “But I’ve outdone her,” Lucia whispered now, smiling as she thought of her beautiful maligno. She wondered if the deadly creature had made it to the Darktide Shallows yet.

  Lucia had gone to Kharis, a priestess of the death goddess Morsa, and asked her to make the creature. The maligno was formed of clay and blood magic, and paid for with gold and death. He was the perfect double of Mahdi, and Lucia knew he would succeed with his mission: to capture Sera and bring her here. Lucia would take care of the rest.

  Only then could she marry Mahdi.

  Only then would she have the power she craved, the power to put her beyond the merfolks’ mockery.

  Only then would the voices in her head be still, the ones that echoed down the dark halls of her memory.

  They whispered about her. Poor Lucia. Such a pretty little thing. How sad for her to have no father.

  They whispered about her mother. There goes the widowed duchessa….She was lucky she found anyone to marry her. Tainted blood, don’t you know. Lucia will have to marry beneath her, too. These things aren’t forgotten.

  When Lucia was a child, her cheeks had burned red with shame at the words the voices uttered; now her heart burned black with hatred.

  Her parents had been in love, but the reigning regina had forbid them to marry because there were traitors in Portia’s bloodline. So, Lucia had been raised without a father. Only when she’d come of age had Vallerio, the realm’s fearsome high commander, revealed to her that he was her father.

  One day all the water realms, and everyone in them, will know that you are my daughter, he’d promised her. Until then, keep our secret safe. Our lives depend upon it.

  When she became Mahdi’s wife, Lucia would no longer be a mere regina, but an empress. Her father had gained Miromara’s throne for her, and he’d al
so taken Matali and Ondalina. Qin would follow, then the Freshwaters and Atlantica. Vallerio would conquer them all for her, and she and Mahdi would rule the entire mer world.

  “They won’t whisper about me then,” Lucia said aloud, her voice full of malice. “They won’t dare. Not if they want to keep their heads on top of their necks.”

  She was close, so close, to seeing her hopes fulfilled. Her father had not been able to capture Sera, so Lucia had taken it upon herself. Success now depended entirely on the maligno—and the sea scorpion that had gone with it, to deliver the fake message. Would they make it the long distance to the Black Fins’ stronghold? Would the conch get to Sera? Would Sera believe the voice inside it was Mahdi’s?

  “Great Morsa make it so,” Lucia prayed, knowing she would have no peace until her prayer was answered.

  Until the maligno returned from the Darktide Shallows.

  Until Serafina was finally dead.

  SERA SAT ALONE at the broad stone table in the cave that served as the Black Fins’ headquarters, wincing as she rubbed her temples. The headaches had become sharper and more frequent ever since her meeting with the Näkki. Tonight’s was a killer.

  Dozens of kelp parchments were strewn across the table: requisitions, intelligence reports, inventories. Message conchs were scattered among them. At the opposite end, a huge map of the mer realms lay open. Cowrie shells, representing her uncle’s troops, covered far too much of it.

  Earlier, she, Desiderio, and Yazeed had argued over the biggest question the resistance now faced: where to attack first. Cerulea, Vallerio’s seat of power? Or the Southern Sea, where Abbadon was imprisoned? They’d failed to come up with an answer. Desiderio had argued for Cerulea; Yazeed for the Southern Sea. Given the Black Fins’ current lack of weapons and food, either choice felt like a suicide mission to Sera.

  A long, trailing sigh escaped her. She felt hopeless tonight. Alone. Defeated before the battles had even begun. Plans, strategies, campaigns…it didn’t matter how carefully thought-out and executed they were, Vallerio always seemed to be one stroke ahead—cutting off supply lines, sabotaging alliances, thwarting her at every turn. Weeks had passed since she’d heard from Ava or Astrid. Had Vallerio taken them? And then there was Sophia, one of her best fighters, and an excellent shot. Sera had just sent her and Totschläger, a goblin commander, to rendezvous with the Näkki. Would Sophia get the Black Fins’ weapons safely back to camp? Or would the death riders ambush her and her troops?

  Play the board, not the piece. Harass the opposition with clever, far-thinking moves. Stay out of check. Sera knew all this, but knowing it and doing it were two different things. She stopped rubbing her head; it wasn’t helping. She knew why the headaches were happening. Every time she thought about sending her troops into battle—whether it was in Cerulea or the Southern Sea—an image came back to her: the image of her hand after she’d met with the Näkki, covered in blood.

  “I knew you’d be awake,” said a voice, dispelling Sera’s painful vision. “This isn’t good. It’s nearly two a.m. You need to sleep.”

  It was Ling, floating in the cave’s entrance. Sera gave her a tired smile. “Worry has a way of keeping you up.”

  “Let me guess…Vallerio,” Ling said, joining Sera at the table.

  Sera nodded. “He’s attacked us six times now. Each time, he’s known exactly where my fighters would be and when they’d be there, thanks to his spy. He’s bleeding us to death, Ling, and I’m letting him. I’m letting him steal our supplies and slaughter my soldiers. Because I don’t know how to find his spy. I don’t know how to stop him. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Don’t talk that way. Don’t even think that way, or Vallerio will win,” Ling scolded. “You need to keep believing in yourself, Sera. You need to keep faith.”

  Sera laughed bitterly. “How, Ling? How do I keep faith? I’m starting to doubt every decision I make.”

  “That’s okay,” Ling said. “That’s how it works.”

  Sera gave her a skeptical look. “It is?”

  “Yes, doubt isn’t the enemy of faith; certainty is. It’s easy to believe in yourself when you’ve got every reason to. Faith is believing in yourself when you’ve got every reason not to.” Ling reached across the table and covered Sera’s hand with her own. “You can do this.”

  “It only gets harder, not easier. You don’t know what it’s like. To rule, to be responsible for so many lives…”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But I know you.”

  A lump rose in Sera’s throat. She squeezed Ling’s hand, feeling lucky to have her for a friend. “Thank you for listening,” she said. “You’re always there when I need you.”

  Ling squeezed back. “And I always will be,” she said, releasing Sera’s hand. “But now I need you to listen. I have an idea. That’s why I’m here. I’ve come up with a way to catch the spy.”

  Sera’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

  “A ruse. A pretty big one. To pull it off, I need to borrow Sycorax’s puzzle ball.”

  Sera blinked, speechless. When she found her voice again, she said, “Ling, have you lost your freaking mind?”

  “No, I haven’t. I need the puzzle ball, Sera,” Ling insisted.

  “Ling, it’s a talisman. A gift from a god. It’s priceless and powerful and my uncle, and Orfeo, they’ve killed thousands trying to get it. They don’t know we have it. Only our inner circle knows. If the spy ever found out—”

  “The spy has to find out.”

  “What?” Sera said, convinced now that Ling had definitely lost her mind.

  “Try as we might, we haven’t been able to reveal the spy,” said Ling. “So I’m going to get the spy to reveal himself.”

  Sera shook her head. “No way,” she said. “I can’t let you take the puzzle ball. It’s too risky.”

  Ling leaned forward. “A moment ago, you said Vallerio’s bleeding us to death. He’s doing more than that. He’s circling for the kill.”

  Ling’s words struck Sera with the force of a gale wind. They were rough, and terrifying. Worse yet, they were true. She decided to hear her friend out.

  “What, exactly, would you do with the puzzle ball?” she asked.

  “Start a rumor,” Ling replied. “Sycorax was Atlantis’s chief justice, right?”

  Sera nodded.

  “I’m going to let it get out that we’ve got the puzzle ball, and there’s something inside it that Sycorax used to help her tell the innocent from the guilty.”

  “But you don’t know what’s inside it,” Sera said, confused. “Nobody does. Because the puzzle hasn’t been solved. You only believe there’s something inside it.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Ling said impatiently. “Don’t you see? All that matters is what the spy believes.”

  Understanding dawned on Sera. “I think I see where you’re going with this,” she said, her fins prickling with excitement.

  Ling sat forward in her chair. “I’m an omnivoxa,” she said, her eyes sparking with intensity. “My gift is communication. But sometimes, to really communicate, it’s necessary to listen instead of talk. What I’m listening for now is the voice of one who’s hurting.”

  “Go on,” Sera said, trying to follow where Ling was leading.

  “Pain needs to speak,” Ling continued. “It needs to be heard. If it isn’t let out, it grows inside, pushing out everything bright and good until it’s the only thing left. I know this, Sera. It happened to my mother. She was hurting so badly after my dad disappeared, she turned away from everyone, including me.”

  “I didn’t realize that,” Sera said. When Ling had appeared in camp, she’d told them how she’d escaped from a prison camp and found the puzzle ball, but she’d never said anything about her mother.

  Ling gave her a rueful smile. “Some things are really hard to talk about, even for an omnivoxa. I was finally able to get through to her, but only after I learned to understand her pain. I bet that the spy’s
in pain, too. What he’s doing—lying, deceiving, betraying his friends—it all comes from a dark place. His pain wants to speak, Sera. If I can coax it out, all we have to do is listen.”

  Sera remembered Vrăja telling her, Help Ling break through the silences. Ling had broken through her mother’s silence, and in doing so had gained insight and wisdom. Now she was trying to break through the spy’s silence.

  Ling’s plan was dangerous, but allowing the spy to remain at large was more dangerous.

  “All right,” Sera finally said. “The puzzle ball is yours.”

  She rose and swam to the niche in the cave’s wall where she kept the talismans that she and her friends had found: Sycorax’s puzzle ball, Merrow’s blue diamond, Pyrrha’s coin, and Navi’s moonstone. She undid the songspell that camouflaged the niche, then removed the ball.

  The ancient talisman sat heavily in Sera’s hand. A phoenix decorated its surface. It was carved out of white coral and contained spheres within spheres. The spheres had holes in them. To solve the puzzle, one had to make the holes line up to reveal what was in the center of the ball.

  Sera gave Ling the precious object.

  “Thank you,” Ling said. “For the talisman, and for your trust.”

  “Find him,” Sera said. “Please.”

  “I will, I promise,” said Ling. And then she swam out of the cave, head down, eyes on the puzzle ball, turning it over in her hands.

  Sera watched her go, worry etched on her face. She needs time to put her plan into play, she thought. And we don’t have any.

  Eyes still glued to the puzzle ball, Ling bumped—literally—into a merman and a goblin on patrol. Ling excused herself, and the two soldiers asked her what she was doing. They were close enough that Sera could hear their conversation.

  “We have a spy in our midst,” Ling solemnly told them.

  The merman gripped his crossbow tightly. The goblin swore.

  “Serafina’s so desperate to find him,” Ling continued, “that she gave me this….” She held up the puzzle ball.

  “What is it?” the goblin asked, peering at the object.

  “It’s a powerful, priceless talisman, given to Sycorax, a mage of Atlantis, by the gods,” Ling explained.