Both the burr and the anemone were found only in Miromaran waters. In the Iele’s caves, Sera had vehemently denied that her mother had had anything to do with the attempts on Kolfinn’s life. Astrid hadn’t believed her then, but she did now. Sera, she’d learned, was many things, but she wasn’t a liar. Yet someone had attempted to assassinate Kolfinn.
Was it Vallerio? Astrid wondered now. According to Sera, he’d ordered Isabella’s assassination and had decimated his city in order to place his daughter on Miromara’s throne. If he could murder his own sister in his quest for power, he’d have no qualms about poisoning a merman he barely knew.
But if Vallerio had made attempts on Kolfinn’s life, how had he done it? Security around her father was impenetrable. He was constantly surrounded by his guards. How could an assassin have slipped through them?
The answers to these questions eluded Astrid. She knew the best thing to do was to go to Kolfinn and tell him where she’d been and what she’d learned. He would know what to make of it all. Before she could tell him anything, though, she had to find him. He could be in the council chamber of the admiral’s palace, or in any number of ministry buildings. Her mother, however, was only ever in one place—the stables. A seasoned rider and celebrated hunter, Eyv?r spent a good part of each day with her hippokamps. Astrid decided to go there first. Eyv?r would know where Kolfinn was.
Astrid felt a deep relief at the thought of her father being well again and back in command. The waters were growing more dangerous, and the balance of power between the mer realms more unstable, with every passing minute. Ondalina needed a strong hand at her helm, now more than ever.
With a last glance at the sky and the snow, Astrid dove and headed for home.
Thank gods, she thought as she sped toward the Citadel, that Ondalina has Kolfinn.
THE CITADEL HAD been built thousands of years ago, using a method that was still followed today.
Carvers had selected an enormous iceberg, calculated the midpoint of its submerged section, then tunneled inside it. They’d hollowed out the ice around the center point, creating the huge public square where the admiral’s palace was located, and where he addressed his mer and paraded his troops.
The carvers then cut concentric rings in the berg, working outward from its center. Passageways were cut between the rings, allowing inhabitants to move freely throughout the berg. Dwellings were sculpted into the ice that remained—mansions and palaces that were as finely detailed as anything in the great gogg cities of Saint Petersburg, Prague, and Paris.
Though much of the Citadel was contained within the iceberg, farmhouses, stables, and the sprawling market quarter were located along the berg’s craggy bottom, allowing hunters to come and go with their hippokamps, farm animals to roam, and merchants to drive their carts into the market.
It was to the admiral’s stables that Astrid now swam. Since they’d been sculpted at the bottom of the iceberg, their roofs were attached to the berg and their lower floors, trimmed with decorative carving, hung down into the water.
Astrid swooped inside the main building. She passed hippokamp stalls, and then the tack room. The stables were illuminated by lava globes suspended from the ceiling. Lava could not be piped into an iceberg, so Ondalinians imported lava globes.
“Astrid Kolfinnsdottir? Is that you? Where have you been all this time?” a voice asked.
It belonged to Sanni, the head groom. She’d swum out of the tack room, still holding a silver bit she was polishing.
Astrid stopped and turned around. “Hi, Sanni. I’ve been hunting,” she fibbed. It was the excuse she’d come up with to explain her absence. “Where’s Eyv?r?”
Ondalinian children called their parents by their first names. Ondalinians, no matter their age, shuddered at words like Mommy and Daddy and thought mer who used them were ridiculous.
“In the ring. With Prince Ludovico,” Sanni replied.
“Kolfinn’s not with them, is he?” Astrid asked.
Sanni stopped polishing. “Kolfinn?” she said. “Astrid, you…you don’t know?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“Know what?”
“The admiral, he…he’s not here,” Sanni said, clearly uncomfortable.
“Any idea where he is?”
Sanni didn’t respond. She was polishing again, furiously.
“Sanni?” Astrid pressed, vexed by the groom’s silence. “Is something wrong?”
“Go see your mother,” Sanni said. She turned away then, but not before Astrid saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. An Ondalinian never shed tears publicly.
Fear took root in Astrid. “What is it? What’s going on?” she asked.
Sanni shook her head and swam back into the tack room.