Serafina and Neela followed her. They passed the canal-side doors through which they had entered the duca’s home and swam down a dimly lit hallway.
The underwater walls of the ancient palazzo were shaggy with algae. Fleshy orange starfish and spiky blue urchins—their bright colors a warning—clustered on the ceiling. Tube sponges dotted the floor, their bloated fingers brushing against the mermaids’ tails. Twining ribbon worms and tiny baglike salps, frightened by the bright light of Anna’s torch, wriggled into cracks and seams. Feather stars and sea whips—things with mouths but no eyes—strained toward the mermaids as they passed, drawn by their movements.
Serafina was so desperately tired, she could’ve slept on the floor. Her stomach was full, but her mind was foggy, and her body was bruised and sore. “Is the duca right?” she asked Neela as they swam. “Do we only think we had the same dream?”
“I don’t know, Sera. I’m so exhausted I can’t think at all. We’ll figure it out later. We’re safe. We’re alive. For now, that’s enough.”
“My quarters are just down the hall, should you need anything in the night,” Anna said, as she opened the door to Serafina’s room. “The Praedatori are also nearby. Sleep well. Princess Neela, your room is here. Just across the hallway.”
Serafina thanked Anna, then hugged Neela hard. Neela hugged her back. Neither mermaid let go of the other for quite some time. “Love you, merl,” she said. “Would never have made it here without you.”
“Love you, too,” said Neela.
Serafina entered her room, then closed the door. A canopied bed, carved from yellow amber and lined with blue anemones, greeted her. It looked so lush and inviting that it was all she could do not to flop down in it right away, but she didn’t. She wanted to find the grotto first and scrub herself clean. As she crossed the room, she glimpsed walls painted with colored squid inks, a gilt bamboo desk and chair, a tall looking glass in a corner, and a blue sea-silk dress hanging from a stand. A note on a table near the dress informed her that it was for her. She couldn’t believe how thoughtful the duca was.
The doorway to the grotto was on the far side of the room. Serafina swam through it. It was tiled in shimmering, ocean-hued mosaics. An ivory robe hung from a hook. On a marble table were glass jars filled with sand for scrubbing skin and scales. Serafina saw black sand from the shores of Hawaii, white from Bora Bora, and pink from the Seychelles. It seemed almost too much to ask for after all she’d been through—a good, long scrub and a soft robe to wear.
As she was about to undress, a movement in the grotto’s mirror caught her eye. She glanced at it and saw a figure looking back at her, wraithlike and haggard. A vitrina, she thought. But no. She swam closer and realized that she was looking at herself.
The left side of her face was mottled purple and black, thanks to Traho. Her hair was a tangled mess, her skin and scales filthy. Her once-beautiful gown was torn and bloodstained. As she stared at the blood, she started to shake. The images started coming at her, one after another. The arrow piercing her mother’s side. Her father’s body falling through the water. Dragons attacking the palace. Traho. The dying guard. Thalassa singing her last songspell. The refugee mother and her children.
She pulled off her gown and threw it on the floor. Naked and shivering, she grabbed a jar of black sand. She poured some into her hand, then scrubbed herself mercilessly until her skin was pink and her scales gleaming. Next, she took the robe from its hook and wrapped it around herself. Her body was stinging from the harsh scrubbing, but she didn’t care. She welcomed the pain. It kept the images at bay.
“Take a deep breath,” she told herself, swimming into the bedchamber. “It’s going to be okay.”
But it wasn’t.
A few strokes away from the bed, Serafina crumpled. With a cry of grief, she sank to the floor.
A second later, the door opened and Blu swam inside. “Serafina, what’s wrong? I heard a cry. Are you all right? Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling by her.
“Yes,” she said through her sobs. She’d held herself together for so long, but she couldn’t do it anymore.
“Where? What happened? Show me,” Blu said, sitting her up.
“Here!” she said, pounding her hand against her heart. “Everything I loved is gone, my parents, my home, my city….” Her voice caught. The rest of her words were drowned in a torrent of tears.
Blu lifted her off the floor, pulled her to him, and held her silently. There was nothing he could say, nothing anyone could say, to make it better.
When there were no more tears left inside her, Serafina raised her head. “I’m sorry, Blu. I’m so, so sorry. Here I am crying and carrying on, and you lost your parents too.”