Waterfire Saga, Book Four: Sea Spell: Deep Blue Novel, A (42 page)

Sera wasn’t wearing a fine gown, or any sumptuous garments of state today. Instead she was dressed in plain robes of black sea silk—scholar’s robes. This morning, for a few hours, she could forget that she was the regina and be just another seventeen-year-old mermaid who was about to be a proud graduate, along with the hundred-odd other students in her class.

Sera’s schooling had been interrupted by an invasion of her realm, and by bloody battles against Vallerio, Orfeo, and Abbadon, but ever since she’d returned home from the Southern Sea, she’d made her studies a priority.

Mahdi swam with her to the front rows of the school’s auditorium.

“I’m so proud of you, and I’ll be clapping the loudest when your name’s called,” he said, kissing her cheek. Then he went to sit with Thalassa, Fossegrim, Desiderio, and Astrid.

Serafina found her seat between two of her classmates. The ceremony started. Music was played, speeches were given, and then the diplomas were handed out.

“Serafina di Merrovingia!” the dean called. “Summa cum laude, with Distinction in History!”

Sera swam up to the dais, shook the dean’s hand, and accepted her diploma. It was written on kelp parchment and signed with squid ink. As she swam back to her seat, she hugged it to her chest.

Summa cum laude
. Latin for
with highest honors
.

She’d worked her tail fins off to get good grades. In a few months, she would enter the kolegio, and begin her undergraduate degree. If all went well, she would defend her doctoral dissertation in ancient Atlantean history in six years. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to rule her realm and pursue her degree at the same time, but she’d faced harder things.

They all had.

A stab of longing pierced her heart. She wished that Neela, Ling, Becca, and Ava could be here with her today. They’d all returned to Cerulea with her to recover from their ordeal in the Southern Sea, but all of them except Astrid had gone their ways a few weeks later. Sera missed them terribly, but understood they had their own obligations.

Ling had been made an international ambassador by the Elder of Qin. She spent all her time traveling between the mer realms and addressing any disputes or conflicts between them. Her father had survived the terrible labor camp where he and Ling had been imprisoned. He’d been weak and sick when troops liberated the camp, but he’d made it home, where he was recovering. Ling’s mother and brothers had been overjoyed to see him.

Becca had decided to hand in her resignation at Baudel’s, and go to college to study political science. She’d applied to a school in the Lagoon, off the city of Venice. She was spending the summer there with Marco, trying to figure things out.

Astrid was living in Cerulea. Ragnar Kolfinnsson, Ondalina’s admiral, and Serafina had abolished the permutavi—an ancient decree between Miromara and Ondalina that stipulated the exchange of a Miromaran royal child for an Ondalinian one. If they hadn’t, Desiderio would have been required to go to Ondalina, and Astrid to Cerulea, and they never would have been allowed to be together. Astrid had chosen to come to the city because of her own free will. And because of her heart. She’d fallen in love with Des, and he with her. In another year, they’d be Promised to one another.

Ava was back in Macapá, in the Amazon River, with her parents. She’d found a job working with visually impaired children and loved it. The other mermaids had bought her a present before she’d left Cerulea—a new seeing-eye piranha named Sweetie. When they let him out of the little bamboo cage he’d arrived in, he’d promptly bitten Sera, barked at Neela and Ling, ripped a hole in Becca’s skirt, and growled at Astrid. Ava adored him, though she knew she would never forget Baby.

Neela had returned home to Matali, where she had been reunited with her pet blowfish, Ooda, and had opened up the hottest clothing boutique in Matali City. It featured her own designs, plus the edgiest creations from a cadre of international designers. She was never again seen wearing pink.

Yazeed had been appointed head of the Praedatori by Duca Marco and was currently in an undisclosed location, working with his fellow fighters and the Wave Warriors to try to clean up the catastrophic garbage island in the Pacific.

Thalassa had been rescued from Shadow Manse and had returned to Cerulea. She gave Serafina songcasting lessons three times a week. Fossegrim was happily ensconced in his beloved Ostrokon, overseeing plans to repair the damage that had been inflicted upon it. Manon Laveau, together with her ghosts and her alligators, had returned to the Mississippi. She’d enjoyed her sojourn in Miromara, she’d told Sera, but it wasn’t wise to leave the swamp mer unsupervised for too long.

The remaining five talismans had been safely stowed away in a specially constructed vault. Sera looked at them sometimes to make sure she never forgot what had been sacrificed in their pursuit. Determined to preside over a more open age, she had decreed that the ruins of Atlantis must be accessible to all peoples of the sea so they might learn from past mistakes and never repeat them. She was personally overseeing the construction of a learning center there, and had negotiated a peace treaty with the Opafago. Sera believed that if she didn’t teach her people the truth about their past, she could not lead them into their future.

A chill ran through her as she remembered how close she’d come to not regaining her throne. If she hadn’t been able to convince Alítheia not to eat her, if her Black Fins hadn’t staged their attack so flawlessly…well, that wasn’t worth thinking about.

She
had
regained her throne. The Feuerkumpel had paid for their treachery. And so had Vallerio and Portia.

Lucia had escaped the city, and seemingly, the realm. She had not been seen or heard of since the night of the Black Fins’ attack on Cerulea. Sera had declared her an outlaw and had put a bounty on her head. She was optimistic that Lucia would be caught soon.

The first notes of the recessional rang out, pulling Sera out of her thoughts. She rose with the other graduates and filed out of the auditorium. Mahdi was throwing a party for all the graduates back at the palace, in the Regina’s Courtyard. As Sera swam out of the school and into the current, someone raced up and threw her arms around her waist.

“Congratulations!” Coco shouted. She handed Sera the bouquet of sea roses she was carrying, and then Coco’s parents congratulated Sera, too.

Sera had had every prison camp searched for them, and for Coco’s sister, Ellie. To her immense relief, all three were found and the family was reunited.

The graduates and their families slowly made their way up the hill to the palace. Bells were ringing through the town. Ceruleans were crowding the current and hanging out of the windows of the houses along it, throwing kisses and sea flowers, cheering and waving and wishing them well.

Mahdi leaned over to her. “I think they love you almost as much as I do,” he said.

Sera smiled and squeezed his arm. As she did, a shimmer caught her eye. It was the little shell ring he’d once carved for her. After Lucia had handed it to him as proof of Sera’s death, Mahdi had kept it. He’d given it to Sera when she returned from the Southern Sea.
Mērē dila, mērī ātmā,
he’d whispered as he put the ring on her finger once more.

They would be married, she and Mahdi. Just as it had been decided years ago. One day, but not now. They both had realms to rule and much to learn. He would have to return to Matali soon, and it would be so hard to let him go. But it wouldn’t be forever.

The happy procession came to a fork in the current. A statue of the former ruler and her husband stood there—Regina Isabella and Principe Bastiaan, Sera’s parents.

Sera swam to it and made a deep curtsey. She missed them both profoundly and wished that they were here today, to celebrate with her. Tears threatened, but she held them back. She had lost so much. Everyone had. But she was thankful, too, for all that remained.

Love lives on,
Horok had told her.

Sera swept her eyes over her people, happy and safe; she looked at her brother and her friends, and then she gazed at the merman she loved with all her heart.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It does.”

I
N A STONE CAVE, deep under the dark waters of a wild and ancient river, the witches sang.

Hand in hand, they swam in a circle, chanting their timeless spells.

The world believed they were dead, killed by a brutal merman and his soldiers. Their names were slowly fading from memory, even from the memories of the ones who’d been summoned.

Which was exactly what they wanted. Their work needed secrecy and stealth. The fewer who knew about them, the better.

The elder sat on her throne of antlers, her black eyes bright and alert, listening to the incantas, nodding at their song. On her hands, three eyes, set in three amber rings, swiveled in their settings, wary and watchful.

If anyone, mer or human, had been close enough, they might’ve heard her singing with the others.

A
BBADON
an immense monster, created by Orfeo, then defeated and caged in the Antarctic waters

A
BELARD
Coco’s sand shark

A
IRFIRE
flames created by humans outside of water

A
LÍTHEIA
a twelve-foot, venomous sea spider made out of bronze combined with drops of Merrow’s blood. Bellogrim, the blacksmith god, forged her, and the sea goddess, Neria, breathed life into her to protect the throne of Miromara from any pretenders.

A
LLEGRA
a Miromaran farmer who is a courier of secret message conchs for Mahdi

A
LMA
the woman Orfeo loved; when she died, he went mad with grief

A
MPLIO
a songspell used to amplify sound

A
NARACHNA
Miromaran for
spider

A
PĂ PIATRĂ
an old Romanian protection songspell that raises water and hardens it into a shield

A
RTEMESIA
Sera’s grandmother, a regina of Miromara who considered the Volnero family tainted and decreed that there would be no alliance with their bloodline

A
SKARI
members of Kora’s personal guard in Kandina (A
SKARA
, sing.)