“We’ll think of something,” Yaz said. “We have few weapons, little food, and no medicine. We can’t keep fighting without any gold.”
“We need the ochi now,” said Luca. “It’s gotta be close to showtime in the Grand Hall. You ready?”
Sera nodded. An ochi, or spying songspell, was fiendishly difficult to cast and needed all the energy the caster could summon. It required that a gandac, or bug, usually a shell of some sort, be placed near the mer to be spied upon.
It would have been tough to get into the palace to place a gandac, and even if Sera could manage it, Portia had the rooms swept for them regularly. But what Portia didn’t know was that a gandac was already in place. It was one of Sera’s favorite shells—a large, beautiful nautilus.
When her beloved grandmother died, a heartbroken Sera had placed the shell, her most prized possession, in the cupped hands of a statue of her grandmother that stood in the Grand Hall. The nautilus had been there so long, everyone thought it was part of the statue.
Sera closed her eyes now and cast the ochi. As soon as an image of the hall formed in her mind, she launched straight into a convoca spell, so that Yaz, Luca, and Franco could see it, too.
“Got it?” she asked, her voice straining with effort.
The mermen said they did, and Sera focused even harder. A rough eddy of emotion swirled through her heart as the image sharpened. Her mother, Regina Isabella, had died in the Grand Hall, at the foot of her throne, protecting Serafina. It was hallowed ground to Sera, and Lucia had turned it into a nightclub.
Above the guests, jellyfish with huge diaphanous bells and long ruffled tentacles pulsed to the music, turning different colors with every beat. Bright sea lilies decorated the tables. Banded kraits twined in the arms of the huge chandeliers and neon anemones bloomed on the walls.
Lucia was dancing with Mahdi. He had his arm around her waist. She was laughing, her head thrown back, her black hair fanning out in the water like a swath of midnight.
Sera’s heart leapt at the sight of the merman she loved. She hadn’t so much as glimpsed him since that day in the kolisseo when she’d watched as he “promised” himself to Lucia. Yazeed had forbidden convocas between them. The spells were to be used only when absolutely necessary. Powerful songcasters could break them and listen in. Mahdi sometimes managed to get a conch to the Black Fins’ headquarters, but even that was risky. He and Yaz had planned tonight’s raid with the help of a palace groom who couriered conchs while exercising hippokamps in the waters outside Cerulea.
The partiers at the palace tonight included Lucia’s parents and some of their friends, but they were mostly members of her court—young, gorgeous mermaids and mermen all dressed as colorfully as parrot fish. Lucia didn’t tolerate anyone plain or dull.
Breathless and laughing, Mahdi dipped Lucia at the end of the song, and kissed her.
Jealousy seared Serafina’s heart. She quickly doused it. Hard lessons had taught her to control her emotions. Mahdi’s life depended upon his ability to keep Lucia convinced that he loved her. All their lives did.
As the guests hooted and clapped, Mahdi straightened, grinning, then held up a hand for silence.
Sera drank in every detail of his appearance—his ebony hair, tied back; his white sea-silk shirt and emerald jacket; his shimmering blue tail; his dark, expressive eyes. She longed to touch him, to be with him. To hear him say that he still loved her. Her left hand instinctively went to the ring she wore on her right. The ring Mahdi had given her, carved from a shell.
“I have a little surprise…” he began.
Oohs and ahhs went up.
“I’ve brought the best lightworkers from Matali here to dazzle you with their art. Lightworks, with their rare and sparkling beauty, remind me of the light of my life…my future wife, Lucia.”
Franco rolled his eyes. Luca acted like he was going to hurl. Yaz smiled grimly and Sera tried to.
Mahdi’s performance was a lie. He was hers, not Lucia’s. Sera and Mahdi had exchanged their own vows months ago in a secret Promising ceremony. He wanted to defeat Vallerio as much as she did.
As a thumping Matali beat began, lightworkers in bright silks and glittering jewels, their faces painted with swirls of color, danced into the Grand Hall. Some threw handfuls of pearls high up to the ceiling, where they exploded into shimmering clouds of pink and yellow. Others trailed ribbons of silver and gold waterfire behind them. As they warmed up the guests, six master lightworkers prepared to cast.
“The lights, bro, the lights,” Yaz whispered to himself.
As if on cue, Mahdi signaled for the chandeliers to be dimmed. Most of the lighting in the Grand Hall ran directly off the lava lines. A few wall sconces did not; their globes, self-contained and full of bubbling lava, continued to glow faintly.