The ten mermen had lowered their spearguns. Some were busily examining the triggers now, others were looking at the ceiling.
“Um, sorry,” Marco said sheepishly. “I got carried away. I can’t believe it’s you, Becca. I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I guess that explains the warm mako-shark welcome,” Becca said, arching an eyebrow.
“Sorry about that, too. We saw you on a hidden camera, but we couldn’t see your face under that hood. One of the Praedatori grabbed you and pushed you inside. We had to make sure you weren’t a death rider. No one knows we’re here and we want to keep it that way. How did you know?”
“I didn’t know. I hoped,” Becca admitted. “Big-time.”
“I see you met Opie,” Marco said, nodding at the orange octopus, who had now made a bracelet of herself on Becca’s wrist.
“I have,” Becca said, smiling. Opie smiled back.
“She’s a new breed. Opisthotheusis adorabilis. New to humans, at least. She was injured when we found her. A storm had pulled her away from her nest and really tossed her around. I brought her aboard our boat to treat her and tried to put her back when she was better, but she wouldn’t go. Would you, Opie?”
Opie shook her head.
“You’re going to have to go back home one day, though.”
Opie turned red. She shot a jet of water at his face.
“Hey!” Marco said sternly, wiping his eyes. “I thought we had a talk about manners!”
Opie turned blue. Ashamed, she scuttled up Becca’s arm to her shoulder, then buried her face in Becca’s neck.
Marco rolled his eyes. His suddenly dipped under the water, then surfaced again. “This stuff’s too heavy,” he said. “I can’t stay afloat.”
As he swam to the edge of the pool and boosted himself up, Becca realized he was wearing a shirt, tie, jacket, trousers, shoes, and socks.
“You dove into the pool in your clothes?” she asked.
Marco nodded. He glanced at his wrist and grimaced. “And a really nice watch,” he said. He took it off and laid it aside. “You must’ve come a long way. Are you hungry?”
Becca shook her head. “I don’t have time to eat. We’re in trouble, Marco. Serious trouble.”
Marco paused in the midst of removing one of his shoes. His eyes darkened. “What kind of trouble? What happened?”
“Sera was taken. By Vallerio, we think.”
Marco’s expression darkened as Becca told him exactly what had transpired. “We want to attack Cerulea and take her back. I came here to ask you to help us.”
“Anything, Becca,” he said. “What do you need?”
Becca took a deep breath. This was it. Her plan. It would live or die now, depending on Marco.
“I need a super trawler,” she said. “Actually, I need fifty. Can you get them for me?”
JUST FIVE DAYS TO GO, and I’m out, Mahdi thought.
It was less than a week, but it seemed like an eternity. Five days of enduring Lucia’s smile, her touch, her kisses. Of listening to the boring gossip and cruel jokes of her friends. Five days of dancing attendance on Portia. Of listening to Vallerio’s plans to raid more villages, enslave more citizens. Of hauling Black Fin sympathizers out of their hiding places while on patrol. Five days of enduring Traho’s suspicious glances. Of trying to keep up the pretense of being loyal to a pack of murderers.
He was with them now, some of the very mer he despised. He, Lucia, and their court were swimming through the palace gardens. Some courtiers were talking about the wedding, others about the party he was going to throw the night before. Lucia was bragging about wedding presents they’d received.
Hang on, he told himself. Smile and nod. You’ve done it for months; you can do it for a few more days.
His escape had been planned weeks ago. Currensea and clothing, as well as the location of his first safe house, had been hidden in a sunken yacht east of the city. When Mahdi got there, he would learn the location of the second one. He would move from one to the next until he’d made it all the way to the Straits of Gibraltar, where he’d rendezvous with Sera and the other Black Fins.
“…and my cousins sent the most incredible set of goblets you’ve ever seen! There are ten of them, pure silver and studded with amethysts. An aunt sent a solid gold lavalabra that’s nearly as tall as I am….”
Lucia droned on, bragging about the tribute she’d received, as her lackeys oohed and aahed. When she finished, she pulled Mahdi away from the rest of the court, until they were out of earshot. Then she turned to face him, biting her lower lip. Her eyes sparkled darkly.
“I have a gift for you, Mahdi,” she declared. “An early wedding present. I wanted to wait until after we were married to give it to you, but I just can’t! You’re going to love it!”
Mahdi set his thoughts aside and smoothly slipped back into the role of besotted husband-to-be. He’d recently doubled down on the compliments and public displays of affection.