“Why?” Cosima asked.
“Quia Merrow decrevit,” the Baronessa replied. She paused to put her cup down. “The second test is the casting. It consists of a diabolically difficult songspell. A strong ruler must have a strong voice, for, as you know, a mermaid’s magic is in her voice.”
“Why is that?” Cosima asked. “I’ve always wondered. Why can’t we just wave a wand? It would be sooo much easier.”
“Because the goddess Neria, who gave us our magic, knew that songspells carry better in water than wandspells. Danger is everywhere in the sea, child. Death swims on a fast fin.”
“But why do we sing our spells, Baronessa? Why can’t we just speak them?”
The baronessa sighed. “Do they actually teach you anything in school nowadays?” she asked. “We sing because song enhances magic. Why, song is magic! Cantare. More Latin. It means…”
“…to sing.”
“Yes. And from cantare come both chant and enchantment, canto and incantation, music and magic. Think of the sounds of the sea, child…whalesong, the cries of gulls, the whispering of the waves. They are so beautiful and so powerful that all the creatures in the world hear the magic in them, even the tone-deaf terragoggs.”
The baronessa picked up a sea urchin from a plate, cracked its shell with her teeth, and slurped it down. “If, and only if, the principessa passes both tests,” she said, “she will then undertake the last part of the Dokimí—the promising. This is where she makes her betrothal vows and promises her people that she will marry the merman chosen for her and give the realm a daughter of the blood, just as her mother did. And her grandmother. And so on, all the way back to Merrow.”
“But why, Baronessa?” Cosima asked.
“Good gods! Another why? Quia Merrow decrevit! That’s why!” the baronessa said impatiently.
“But what if Serafina doesn’t want to marry and rule Miromara and give the realm a daughter? What if she wants to, like, open a café and sell bubble tea?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she wants to rule Miromara. The things you come up with!”
Agneta reached for another urchin. Cosima frowned. And Serafina smiled ruefully. For as long as she could remember, she’d been asking the same questions, and had been given the same answer: Quia Merrow decrevit. Like many rules of the adult world, a lot of Merrow’s inscrutable decrees made no sense to her. They still had to be followed, though, whether she liked it or not.
Of course she wants to rule Miromara! the baronessa had said. But the truth was, sometimes she didn’t. She wondered, for a few rebellious seconds, what would happen if she refused to sing her songspell tonight and swam off to sell bubble tea instead?
Then Tavia arrived with her breakfast and started to chatter, and all such foolish thoughts disappeared.
“Here you are, my darling,” she said, setting a silver tray down on a table. “Water apples, eel berries, pickled sponge…your favorites.” She slapped a green tentacle away. “Sylvestre, keep out of it!”
“Thank you, Tavia,” Serafina said, ignoring the tray. She wasn’t hungry. She took a deep breath, preparing to practice her songspell again, but Tavia wasn’t finished.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you this yet,” she said, pressing a blue pincer to her chest, “but Empress Ahadi’s personal maid was in the kitchens this morning, getting tea for her mistress. I happen to know that she’s very fond of Corsican keel worms, so I made sure she got plenty. After her second bowl, she told me that the emperor is in good health and the empress is as bossy as ever.”
“Did she?” Serafina asked lightly. She knew she must not betray too much eagerness for news of the Matalis, especially the crown prince. Her slightest reaction to any news of him would be noted and commented upon. “And the Princess Neela, how is she? When is she coming to my rooms? I’m dying to see her.”
“I don’t know, child, but Ahadi’s maid—the one in the kitchens—she told me more things…things about the crown prince,” Tavia said conspiratorially.
“Isn’t that nice?” Serafina said. She knew that Tavia—a terrible gossip—desperately wanted her to ask what the things about the crown prince were, but she didn’t. Instead, she practiced a trill.
Tavia waited as long as she possibly could, then the words burst out of her. “Oh, Serafina! Don’t you want to know what else the maid said? She told me that the crown prince’s scales are the deepest shade of blue, and he has an earring, and he wears his hair pulled back in a hippokamp’s tail!”