“Aren’t you done yet?” Sera asked, huffing with impatience. “It’s only a uniform.”
She’d been floating in the same place for over an hour now in the headquarters cave, while Neela fitted a new jacket and a long, flowing skirt on her, endlessly nipping, tucking, and pinning the fabric.
Neela took the pins out of her mouth. “It’s not only a uniform; it’s your uniform. Need I remind you that you’re the leader of the Black Fin resistance, and that you need to inspire twenty thousand troops tomorrow morning? It would help if you didn’t look like a skavvener.”
Desiderio, seated at the big stone table cleaning his crossbow, snorted with laughter.
Sera scowled, not at all happy to be compared to the ragged, bony sea elves.
“Thanks a lot, Neels,” she said. “I didn’t realize I did look like a skavvener.”
“You’ve been wearing a borrowed jacket ever since your own disappeared. The cuffs are frayed. The collar, too.” She swam back a few strokes. “Turn, please,” she said.
Sera did as she was told.
Hands on her hips, Neela appraised her work, then gave a nod. “Totally invincible. If I do say so myself.”
“Done?” Sera asked.
“Done,” Neela said, helping her out of the garments.
“I can’t believe it’s tomorrow,” Sera said, putting the borrowed jacket back on over her tunic. “We’re heading for the Southern Sea tomorrow.”
The soldiers had all been provided with uniforms and weapons. Wagons carrying ammunition, food, and medicine had been packed. The refugees who were too young, too old, or too frail to fight would stay safely behind. The forge was silent now. Those who could sleep were doing so. Those who couldn’t were gathered around waterfires, cleaning weapons or polishing helmets.
Tomorrow morning, Sera would tell them the truth—that they were going to the Southern Sea, not Cerulea, and why. It was finally happening. She was heading off to fulfill the quest Vr?ja had given her. She was about to launch the endgame in her bid to destroy Abbadon.
Sera thought back to the days before the river witch had come to her in her dreams, before her uncle had attacked Cerulea, before her world had been torn apart. It seemed as if a thousand years had passed since then. She was a different person now. Older. Wiser. Harder.
A hundred worries ran through her head now. A hundred details. A hundred questions.
“Are you sure we have enough bandages?” she asked.
“Becca packed an entire wagonful,” Neela replied.
“Tents?”
“Loaded and ready to go,” said Des.
Her deeper worries were written on her face. Des saw them. He stopped cleaning his weapon and said, “What’s really bothering you?”
“Mahdi,” Sera admitted. He was still in Cerulea, still in the palace.
“We’re pulling him out soon,” Des said. “He’ll be safe and sound, and waiting for us at the Straits of Gibraltar, just as we planned.”
Sera nodded and tried to smile, but her gestures didn’t convince her brother.
“What else?” he asked.
“Ava,” Sera said. “Astrid.”
“We would have heard something if Ava had been captured,” Neela assured her. “Vallerio’s thugs would have brought her back to Cerulea. Mahdi would’ve found out and gotten word to us.”
“What if something else happened?” Sera said anxiously. “What if the Okwa Naholo got her? What if she’s…she’s—”
“Dead?” Neela finished. “We’d know. We’re bloodbound. We’d feel it. Same goes for Astrid.”
“You’re right,” Sera said, her worst fears allayed. For now.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Neela suggested.
“Good idea,” Sera said. “But what about you?”
“I’ll come in a bit. I’ve still got a little sewing to do.”
Sera swam to her friend and kissed her good night. “Thank you, by the way,” she said. “I love my new uniform. I really do.” She smiled mischievously and said, “You can give my old one to the skavveners.”
“Even they wouldn’t touch it,” Neela said.
“I’ll swim you to the barracks, Sera,” Desiderio said. “I need some shut-eye myself.” He put his cleaning materials back into their seagrass pouch and hoisted his weapon. “Let’s go,” he said.
Brother and sister swam side by side through the camp, just the two of them. With the spy finally caught, Sera had dismissed her bodyguards. She hated being followed around, and she felt they’d be far more useful by helping with preparations for the journey to the Southern Sea.
“I know you’re worried about Mahdi, but if he survived this long around Vallerio and Lucia, he can last for a few more days.”
“You’re right, Des. It’s just that I can’t stop worrying. I can’t shake this feeling that something’s going to happen. It’s like a shadow I can’t get out from under.”