Grigio appeared. “Trouble. Big-time,” he said.
Blu swam back outside. Serafina and Neela followed him. On the flats below were mermen on hippokamps, carrying torches. In their light, Serafina could see huge gray fish—hound sharks—circling. One of the riders moved forward. He was dragging something behind him. As he swam out in front of the others, Serafina could see what it was. Or rather, who: the merman who’d swum off earlier to lure the hound sharks away.
“Praedatori!” their leader called out. “Bring me the mermaids or I’ll kill the boy!”
Serafina started for the flats. Blu grabbed her arm.
“Let me go! I won’t be the cause of anyone else’s death!” she said.
“Don’t be stupid. He’s already dead,” Verde said.
“No, he’s not! He’s alive! He’s right down there!”
“The minute I hand you over, the riders will kill him, me, and all my men.”
“Why is he bargaining with us?” Neela asked. “Why hasn’t he attacked? They totally outnumber us.”
“Because he’s afraid. As well he should be. He knows I no longer have an iron collar around my neck.”
It was Thalassa, slowly making her way toward them.
“Magistra!” Serafina exclaimed. “Oh, thank gods! Traho’s soldiers are below. We have to go. Can you swim?”
Thalassa shook her head. “I am the canta magus of Miromara, not some sneak thief scuttling off into the night. It’s high time the sea scum chasing us learned that.”
She and Verde looked at each other. Something passed between them. An understanding.
“You could put a giant vortex behind us,” he said. “Or a silt storm.”
“Child’s play.” Thalassa sniffed. “I’ll do better.”
“A vortex would hold them off,” Serafina said excitedly. “We’re not far from the Lagoon, Magistra. We can make it now that you’ve caught your breath.”
“I can give you thirty minutes, possibly a bit longer,” Thalassa said, still talking to Verde. “Swear to me you’ll get them to safety.”
Verde nodded. “On my life,” he said.
And then Serafina understood. They were leaving, but Thalassa was not.
“No, Magistra,” she said frantically. “No!”
“Serafina…” Thalassa said.
“You can’t stay behind. You can’t!” said Serafina, choking back a sob. “You’re all I have left of Miromara.”
Thalassa cupped Serafina’s cheek with her good hand. “And you, child, are all Miromara has left,” she said.
Thalassa’s words hit her hard. She hadn’t had much time to think about what was going to happen, only what had happened already. But what Thalassa said was true: the city of Cerulea had fallen, her mother was a prisoner—if she was even still alive. Her father was dead. She had no idea what had happened to her uncle. Or if her brother was still at the western borders. That meant that she was her realm’s only hope.
“I can’t do this, Magistra. I don’t know how.”
“Never forget what I told you. Show what’s in your heart and all hearts will be with you,” Thalassa said. She hugged Serafina tightly, and then let her go.
Serafina would go to the Lagoon. Because she had to. She had to stay alive. She couldn’t help her people if she was taken. And Thalassa would stay here. Because she had to. She would rather die protecting Serafina than be the reason she was captured.
“We have to go,” Verde said.
Serafina shook her head, her eyes still on Thalassa.
“Not yet. Please.”
Thalassa swam out of the cave. She looked down at the riders for a few seconds, as if taking their measure, then she lifted her head and started to sing. Everyone stopped still, spellbound. Serafina, Neela, Blu, even Verde. No one said a word. Thalassa was battered and bloodied, she was facing certain death, and yet she had never sounded more magnificent. Her voice was the sound of the sea itself—the whirl and crash of breakers, the howl of a gale, the roar of a tsunami.
She pulled wind down into the water and spiraled giant vortexes one after another, until she’d raised a wall of spinning typhoons. She was no longer a mere mermaid. She was a storm system, a category five. And she was bearing down on the enemy.
“Serafina,” Blu said gently.
Sera nodded. She would leave now. She would swim away hard and fast. With the sound of Thalassa’s voice forever in her head. Forever in her heart.
FACES LOOMED OUT of the gray murk of the Lagoon. Voices, broken and desperate, begged for help.
“Please, can you spare some currensea?”
“My son is injured. He needs a doctor!”
“My husband is missing. His name is Livio. He’s tall with black hair. Have you seen him?”
The Lagoon was only four leagues north of Cerulea, just over ten nautical miles. Refugees from the city, wounded and dazed, swam through its narrow currents. They huddled in doorways and slept in alleys.
“My children are hungry, do you have any food?” a mermaid begged. She had two little ones clutching her tail and a baby in her arms.