Waterfire Saga, Book Three: Dark Tide: A Deep Blue Novel (4 page)

“He is, isn’t he,” Lucia purred.

She was seated in the center of the Grand Hall, at the Royal Table. The lightworks show had just ended and Mahdi had swum over to the lightcasters to tell them how pleased he was.

“You should have seen how he was looking at you during the show!” Bianca said. “Then again,
everyone’s
looking at you tonight.”

Of course they are,
Lucia thought.

She was wearing a spectacular gown made of thousands of tiny overlapping disks of polished abalone. The shells caught the light as she moved, casting an iridescent shimmer. She wore her long,
blue-black hair down. A stunning sapphire, set in a platinum headband, rested just above her widow’s peak. It sparkled darkly, like her eyes.

Lucia’s gown, her sapphire, her beautiful face—they turned all heads, but she hardly cared. There was only one merman whose gaze she craved—Mahdi’s.

She’d wanted him for her own ever since he’d come to Miromara for Serafina’s Dokimí. With his long dark hair, his chiseled features and soulful eyes, he was the most
handsome merman she’d ever seen.
And
he was the Emperor of Matali, a large and powerful realm. She deserved no less.

Her eyes sought him out now. He was floating by the throne, laughing with the lightcasters. He was beautifully dressed and so good-looking it made her ache. Watching him, she recalled that he
had not looked so good after the fall of Cerulea, when she’d found him in a prison cage.

Captain Markus Traho, commander of the death riders and a merman who served both Vallerio and the terragogg Rafe Mfeme, had killed Mahdi’s parents—on her father’s
orders—and had imprisoned Mahdi. Her father hadn’t trusted him. Mahdi’s parents had been staunchly loyal to Isabella, and Mahdi himself was rumored to be a serious partyboy and
loyal to no one. Vallerio wanted someone better for his daughter. But Lucia, besotted, had begged for his life and her father had relented.

“I can’t say no to you, Lucia,” Vallerio had said. “I’ll spare his life, but before any Promising ceremony occurs, Mahdi must prove his loyalty.”

And he had. By raiding rebel safe houses. By rounding up those unloyal to her. By finding an invaluable object for Traho—a necklace with a blue, tear-shaped diamond in it that Traho had
immediately delivered to Mfeme. Why Mfeme wanted it, Lucia didn’t know. Nor did she care. All that mattered to her was that Mahdi convinced her father. And eventually, he had.

“I was wrong, Lucia. And, for once, I’m glad about it,” Vallerio had said a few weeks ago. “My opinion of the boy has changed considerably.”

Lucia had been pleased to hear that—she’d needed her father’s consent for the Promising—but even with it, and even with the Promising behind her, there was still an
obstacle to her happiness. There was one whose opinion was far more important to her than her father’s, her mother’s, or any friend’s. This one had helped her snare
Mahdi—with songspells, potions, and enchantments. And this one was still skeptical.

“Be careful, child,” she’d warned. “The boy professed to be in love with the last principessa, and now he says he’s in love with you. It seems he sells his heart to
the highest bidder. You may have to pay a very high price for it.”

Those words had tortured Lucia. She told herself they weren’t true. They
couldn’t
be. Mahdi had Promised himself to her, hadn’t he? He gave her expensive gifts. He
threw parties celebrating their betrothal. His whispered words made her catch her breath—and his kisses took it away completely.

And yet, she was never entirely sure.

Is he only pretending?
she wondered now, her eyes darkening as quickly as her mood had.
Or does he really love me?

“Mahdi…” she said as he returned to their table and sat down next to her.

“What is it, Luce? You look upset. Didn’t you like the lightworks?”

“I loved them. I really did.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he asked, taking her hand.

“Let’s move our wedding day up. I don’t want to wait anymore,” Lucia said in a rush.

Mahdi looked surprised. “There’s nothing I’d like more, but we can’t.”

Lucia’s eyes flashed. “Why not?” she demanded.

Mahdi cupped her face with his hands. “I don’t want to begin our life together until our realms are secure. It’s too dangerous. You remember the invasion of Cerulea, and how
its people suffered. We all do.”

Lucia nodded. She remembered it well. Her father had ordered his assassins to kill Regina Isabella, Principe Bastiaan, and many more. But that was a secret, and it had to stay that way.

“Isabella was killed because she was Miromara’s regina. Now
you’re
the regina, and it would kill
me
if anything ever happened to you. You know that,
don’t you?” Mahdi asked, his beautiful brown eyes searching hers.

Lucia’s angry expression softened.
He’s always so protective of me,
she thought.
Like a true love would be.

“Our day will come. Soon,” he said, his hands still cradling her face. “Your father, Traho, me…we’re getting closer to the Black Fins all the time. We’ll find
them soon and put them down like the dogfish they are.
Then
we’ll be married, Luce, and no one will be happier or prouder on that day than me.”

He kissed her then, and the words that the other one had spoken, the words that tormented Lucia, faded from her mind. Mahdi was hers and hers alone. She saw that in his eyes, heard it in his
words, and felt it in his touch.

“Excuse me, Your Graces,” a voice said, low and harsh.

Lucia knew who it belonged to—Traho. She turned away from Mahdi and saw that he was at her father’s side. He’d swum into the Grand Hall quietly. A compactly built merman with
closely cropped brown hair and a cruel face, he was not known for attending parties. Lucia sensed that his sudden appearance at this one did not bode well.

“What is it?” Vallerio asked tersely.

“There’s been a break-in. The treasury vaults were breached,” Traho replied, bending low so that only Vallerio, Portia, Lucia, and Mahdi could hear him.

“What?” Vallerio said, crashing his fist down on the table. “How did this happen?”

“An old valve was opened. Lava was released. It destroyed one of the vault’s walls. We’re trying to contain the intruders right now, but they’re fighting hard.”

“How much treasure was taken?” Portia demanded.

“A substantial amount.”

Vallerio cursed. “Black Fins?” he asked.

“We think so, sir.”

“It’s her, damn her. Serafina,” Vallerio growled.

Lucia’s eyes widened. “
Serafina?
But how?”

“Yes, Vallerio, how?” Portia asked, her voice a cool contrast to her husband’s angry one. “Serafina’s dead. She fled the palace after Cerulea was invaded and
hasn’t been seen since. There’s no way she could have survived in the open waters for this long.”

“Of course she’s dead,” Vallerio said quickly. “I misspoke in my anger. Traho, follow me to the vaults. Portia, Lucia, Mahdi…stay here. Smile. Dance. Act as if
nothing’s happened. I don’t want the guests to find out about this. If word spreads, the Black Fins will use it to their advantage.”

Lucia barely heard her father’s instructions. Doubt had crept into her mind, as chilling as a sea fog. Her parents always maintained that Serafina was killed in the attack on Cerulea.
Neither had ever publicly voiced any suspicion that she might still be alive. Had they been lying to her? The mere thought made her furious.

If it were true, if Sera
was
alive and leading the resistance, she was a threat. The mer had loved her. They would fight to the death for her. Lucia had everything she ever wanted now,
but Serafina could take it all—Mahdi, her crown, her life.

It can’t be true,
she quickly told herself. Sera
had
to be dead. There had been no word of her for months. She was weak. She had no survival skills—not a guppy like
her, always swimming around with a conch glued to her ear, listening to some dull account of this battle or that treaty.

Lucia took a deep breath. She tried to calm down. Instinctively, she glanced at Mahdi for reassurance.

But Mahdi didn’t offer any. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes followed Vallerio and Traho as they disappeared through a stone archway. There was a look in them that Lucia had
never seen before. Raw, naked fear.

Then Bianca called Mahdi’s name and started fawning over him, and he was laughing and the look was gone.

But Lucia knew she would always remember it.

Who is he afraid for?
she wondered.
Is it me?

Or Serafina?

T
HE STEEL SPEAR hit the wall only inches above Yazeed’s head.

Shrapnel sprayed through the water. One piece tore a gash in Yaz’s cheek; another clipped a Black Fin named Sophia, carving a stripe across her forearm.

“Time to make wake, Sera!” Yaz yelled. “Can’t hold them much longer!”

He and Sophia were still inside the Traitors’ Gate tunnel. They were shooting at the death riders who were trying to storm through it as Sera attached a huge sailcloth sack filled with
treasure to a giant manta ray.

“Sargo’s Canyon,” she told the manta in RaySay, as she cinched the sack. “Hurry!”

This was the last load. The sack was heavy with gold and jewels, but the ray was young and strong. Sera was thankful for that. He would have to swim fast to avoid capture. The creature flapped
his huge wings, picked up speed, and veered north. He swam low, blending in with the seafloor, invisible to anything swimming above him. Fifty more of his kind were already on their way. Neela was
leading them.

“Get out of here,” Sera ordered the six remaining Black Fins fanned out above her. “Cast your pebbles and haul tail.”

The transparensea pebbles she’d issued to her fighters were poor quality—weak and unreliable—but they were better than nothing. The fighters cast them, shimmered, and
disappeared. They would follow the ray to Sargo’s Canyon, where the treasure would be safely stashed in an abandoned farm house. Sera prayed to the gods that they’d make it.

The heist had been a success. The Black Fins had hauled out twice as much treasure as they’d expected. But they’d been discovered just as the last loads were being carried out
through the lava chamber.

A battle had ensued, and three Black Fins had died, including Luca and Franco, along with at least ten enemies. Yaz and Sophia had been able to hold the death riders back at a bend in the
tunnel, about ten yards from the Traitors’ Gate, while the rest of the Black Fins escaped. Sera didn’t allow herself to think about the fighters they’d lost. She would mourn them
later, when the mission was over.

“You ready, Sera?” Yaz shouted now.

“All set!” Sera yelled back.

A few seconds later she heard an explosion, and she knew that Yaz and Sophia had set off an ink bomb—a large conch shell packed with squid ink and explosives. It would turn the water in
the tunnel as black as night and keep it that way for a good thirty seconds.

“I’ll cover you both.
Go!
” Yazeed shouted at Serafina as he and Sophia came hurtling toward her.

As Yaz flattened himself on the seafloor, Sera grabbed her crossbow and streaked away, with Sophia hot on her tail. She put distance between herself and the Traitors’ Gate, then pulled her
transparensea pebble out of her pocket, ready to cast it. But as she did, a pain—white and blinding—tore through her body. She screamed as she went tumbling through the water. She
dropped her bow. The pebble fell out of her hand.

Sera slammed into the seafloor face-first. She righted herself, dazed, and spit out silt. Blood swirled around her. She frantically searched to see where she’d been hit.

Her eyes widened when they found the wound.

“No!”
she cried.

A spear was buried in her tail.

T
ERROR FLOODED THROUGH SERA.

It wasn’t the sight of her own blood that scared her, or the cruel silver spear sunk into her flesh. It was the thin white line trailing from the spear—and the death rider at the
other end of it. He grinned evilly, then began to reel in the line.