Three figures floated in the cave’s entrance. Their faces were hidden in the silt-covered folds of their hoods. They had long, powerful tails and looked like mer, but Sera knew they weren’t.
“N?kki,” she said silently, releasing her dagger. Shapeshifters. Wary and elusive, they could blend in with a crowd of mer, a school of fish, or a rock face within seconds.
A sickly sweet smell wafted from them, one that made Sera’s stomach clench—the smell of death. It took her back to the invasion of Cerulea and the rotting bodies of her merfolk lying in the ruins.
Instinctively, she touched the ring on her right hand. Mahdi had carved it from a shell for her, as an expression of his love. Thinking of him gave her courage.
“Welcome,” she said, nodding to her visitors.
The N?kki removed their hoods. Under them were mermen’s faces, handsome and fine. Their leader, dark-skinned and amber-eyed, his black hair worn long and loose, extended his hand. Sera took it. His grip was hard. His companions were amber-eyed, too. Their skin was pale. Long blond braids trailed down their backs.
“I’m Serafina, regina di Miromara. I’m grateful to you for coming. I know your journey was a dangerous one.”
“Kova,” the N?kki leader said. He nodded at the others. “Julma and Petos.”
As he spoke, Sera saw that his tongue was black and split at the tip like a snake’s. It unnerved her, but she kept her feelings hidden.
“Sit with us,” she said, gesturing toward the waterfire.
Something glinted darkly on the underside of her hand as she did. She glanced at it, and bit back a gasp. Her palm was streaked with blood. She must’ve cut herself without noticing, but how? On her dagger’s hilt? Hastily, she wiped the blood off on her jacket, hoping no one noticed, then joined the N?kki and the Black Fins around the fire.
Kova settled himself, flanked by Julma and Petos. Ling passed around a box of barnacles and a basket of keel worms. As the N?kki helped themselves, Kova brusquely asked, “What do you need?”
“Crossbows and spearguns,” Des replied.
“Quantities?”
“Five thousand of each. Plus rounds.”
“When?”
“Yesterday,” said Yazeed.
Kova nodded, frowning. “It won’t be easy, but I can do it. Give me a week.”
“Quality. No garbage,” Des said.
“The crossbows are goblin-made. The spearguns come from a gogg trader. Best in the world,” Kova said. He smiled grimly. “If there’s one thing the goggs are good at, it’s killing.”
“What about the rounds?” asked Yazeed.
“Spears are stainless steel. Gogg-made. Arrows are Kobold steel with barbed heads. Hit someone with one of those, he’s not getting up.”
“How much?” Sera asked.
“Seventy thousand trocii.”
She shook her head. “We haven’t got mer currensea, only doubloons.”
Kova chuckled. “Stolen from Vallerio’s vaults, I hear.”
“Not stolen, regained,” Sera retorted. “From my vaults.”
The Black Fins’ only form of barter was the treasure they’d taken from chambers deep inside Cerulea’s royal palace: goggish doubloons, gemstones, silver goblets, gold jewelry.
“Fifty thousand doubloons, then,” said Kova.
“Thirty.”
Kova didn’t reply. He worked a piece of food from his teeth with his thumbnail. “Forty-five,” he said at length. “Final offer.”
Sera thought about the price he was demanding. Her treasure was dwindling fast. Paying for food and weapons for her troops, purchasing thorny Devil’s Tail vines and other materials to strengthen her camps’ defenses—it all cost a great deal. So did the lava globes she had to buy, for the Kargjord didn’t appear to have a lava seam under it. And this was only the preparation stage. The battle to take back Cerulea from Vallerio, the fight against Abbadon—these were still to come.
Forty-five thousand doubloons, she finally decided, was a price she was prepared to pay. But there was another, even higher price for these weapons, one she couldn’t bear to pay: lives.
For a moment, Sera was no longer in the cave with the N?kki; she was back in Cerulea during the attack. She saw her father’s body sinking through the water. Saw the arrow go into her mother’s chest. Heard the screams of innocent mer as they were slaughtered.
“Sera…” That was Desiderio. She barely heard him.
Her gaze came to rest on Kova. His palm lay flat against a rock; a thin line of crimson oozed from it. She raised her eyes and saw smears of blood on the box of barnacles Ling had passed around, and more on the basket of worms.
I didn’t cut myself, she realized. The N?kki have blood on their hands and they leave it on everything they touch.
“Sera, we need an answer.” That was Yazeed.
But she couldn’t make the words come. She was immobilized by fear—fear for her people, for the suffering and destruction to come. How could any ruler make the decision to go to war? Even for a just cause? How could she send thousands to their deaths?