The first night of their journey, they’d sheltered in a sea cave. There, Yazeed had told Neela why he and Mahdi had joined the Praedatori, and she had told him about her nightmare, where it had led her, and what she’d learned.
“Yaz? I think we should get going now,” Neela said, rising. “Yaz? Yaz!” She snapped her fingers in his face.
“Sorry. You ready to go?” he asked, getting up. He still wore a dark expression.
“What is it?” Neela asked, not used to this serious, somber new brother. “Where were you?”
“Back at the palace. Watching Portia Volnero send our grand vizier to his death.”
“We can’t think about that now. Or Mata-ji and Pita-ji. We have to keep going. Find Mahdi. Warn Sera. Get help.”
“She’s going to pay for what she did, Neela. Khelefu was an innocent merman. He didn’t deserve to die.”
“Portia’s completely insane,” Neela said. “Her plan can’t work. How can she have Lucia crowned regina? Only a mermaid with Merrovingian blood in her veins can sit on the throne of Miromara. There’s only one of those, and it’s not Lucia. Alítheia is going to rip her head off.”
“I guess that’s some consolation,” Yazeed said.
“But how can Portia do it? That’s what I don’t get. She knows what will happen. How can she sit by and watch her only daughter be killed by a bloodthirsty monster?” Neela shook her head. “All this time, Sera and I were sure that Traho had been sent by Admiral Kolfinn, but it turns out Portia’s the one behind all of it.”
“She must’ve been collaborating with Traho from the beginning,” Yaz said.
“She helped him take Cerulea so he could have access to Miromaran waters to search for a talisman—the same one Sera’s searching for right now,” said Neela.
“And in return, Traho’s allowing her to make her daughter the ruler of Miromara, and to betroth her to Mahdi, the future ruler of Matali—a ruler Traho already controls. Or thinks he does.”
“In a realm he already controls. And whose waters—and people—he’s using to try to find Navi’s moonstone. My gods, Yaz, where is it all going to end?” Neela asked.
“Hopefully in Cerulea,” Yaz said.
“What do you mean?”
He told her that the Praedatori had credible information that Miromara’s high commander, Vallerio, had been successful in his bid to align with the Kobold goblins.
“If the info I have is good, Vallerio’s approaching the city as we speak,” Yaz said.
“Is he strong enough to stop Traho?” Neela asked.
“We don’t know. It depends on how many troops the Kobold gave him. And it depends on the dragons. Do the Kobold have any? Because we know the death riders do,” Yazeed replied.
“Where are we, anyway? Are we any closer to Cerulea?” asked Neela, worry in her voice.
“We’re in Miromara. Specifically, we’re in what the goggs call the Mediterranean. Just like the last time you asked.”
“Still? When are we going to hit the Adriatic?”
“By tomorrow morning, if we can keep up a fast pace.”
“We’ve got to get there in time to warn Sera about the Volneros. Portia’s way ahead of us.”
“Yeah, that happens when your ride is a chariot drawn by twelve hammerheads. Best we’ve been able to do is hitch on the back of a whale shark. When did you learn to speak Whalish, anyway?”
“I didn’t. It’s the bloodbind,” Neela said. “At least I still have those powers.”
Yaz looked up. “I see a giant manta above us,” he said. “Lay some RaySay on him, will you, Neels? See if we can catch a ride. And catch up to Portia.”
SERAFINA HEARD the Kobold army before she saw it.
Unlike the mer, goblins had feet, and the seafloor shook violently beneath them as they marched.
“Do you hear that, Sera? There must be a million of them!” Coco whispered. “Just look at that silt cloud rising! I’m heading down to the Corrente with the others. I want to see them up close.”
Serafina grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you don’t, Coco. You wait right here. Traho’s death riders might be waiting to ambush them.”
Serafina and Coco had hidden themselves behind an outcropping of rock above the Grande Corrente, the main route into Cerulea. From their high vantage point, they would be able to see Vallerio and his troops as they neared the city.
Thousands of mer had gathered at the edges of the Corrente, to watch and wait.
Sera was worried for them. If Traho attacked, they’d be caught right in the middle of the fighting.
“Sera, look!” Coco said, pointing.
The first of the fighters crested a ridge. Broad-backed and muscular, with thick, powerful limbs, they carried a lethal assortment of weapons—double-bladed axes, long swords, halberds, and flails—all cast from Kobold steel. They had the facial features of the Feuerkumpel tribe: two nostrils but no nose, transparent eyes, lipless mouths full of sharp teeth, and ears that were mangled or torn off from fighting.
Sera’s uneasiness grew as she remembered the vision she’d had back in the Iele’s caves of a goblin attacking her.
“Where’s my uncle?” she asked, straining to pick him out.