“You’re not angry with me, are you, Mahdi?” Lucia asked, her eyes searching his. “I told you, it’s for your own good.”
“Oh, I was for a moment,” he said, laughingly. “Because I didn’t understand, but I do now. You’re absolutely right. We can’t take any chances. Unlock it on our wedding day. Oh, hey!” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Speaking of weddings, I nearly forgot! I have a fitting for my wedding jacket in five minutes. I’ve got to make wake, but I’ll see you at dinner.”
Lucia made a disappointed face.
“It’s only a couple hours away! Don’t forget about me, okay?” He kissed her again, then said, “I love you, merl.” He was smiling at her, but the words were acid in his mouth.
He swam away fast, looking distracted, as if he’d really forgotten an appointment. He sped over the gardens, under an arched doorway, through labyrinthine hallways to the west wing of the palace. He rushed past officials, ministers, and servants, and then finally arrived at the door to his rooms.
“I’m not to be disturbed,” he barked at his guards, as they opened the door for him.
The guards nodded, then closed the door behind him. As soon as they did, Mahdi’s mask fell away, and an expression of tearing grief took its place. He would never see Sera’s beautiful face again. Never hear his name on her lips. Never gaze into her green eyes, so full of life. So full of love. He took two strokes into the room, faltered, and crumpled.
“Sera,” he wept. “Oh, gods…Sera.”
He stayed that way for a long time, eyes closed, overwhelmed by sorrow. Sera was gone. And with her, his heart and soul. He was nothing now. Just an empty shell.
Some hours later, as the waters were just starting to darken, a knock on the door tore him from his misery.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” a voice called through the door, “but it’s almost dinnertime. Do you require my help dressing?”
It was Mahdi’s valet.
“No, Emilio, I’ll do it myself tonight, thanks,” he called back, struggling to sound normal.
“Very well, Your Grace,” Emilio said.
Mahdi knew he would have to get up. Somehow, he would have to dress, go to dinner, and smile at Lucia. His thoughts returned to the plan that he’d started to shape earlier, the plan to help the Black Fins. He wasn’t the only one who had lost Sera. They had, too. So had the merfolk of her realm. It was them he had to think of now, not himself.
Through sheer force of will, Mahdi opened his eyes. As he did, something bright caught them.
His wedding jacket. Made of emerald-colored sea silk, it was hanging in a corner of his room. He’d lied about the fitting appointment. It had been tailored days ago. A servant must’ve brought it into the room earlier this afternoon. It was buttoned up, finished, all ready for him to wear.
“Five days,” he whispered, sitting up.
A grim smile played over his features as Lucia’s voice echoed in his head. You can sing your vows….
“Yes, I can. And I will,” he said quietly.
He would do what he had to do until then. He’d smile and joke and play the part of the happy bridegroom for four more days.
And then, on the night of the fifth day, when the moon had risen, he would take that jacket off its hanger, and dress for his wedding.
And his funeral.
A SOUND—A LONG, screeching scrape—woke Serafina.
Metal, she thought groggily, opening her eyes. Metal on stone. Lucia’s executioner must be sharpening his ax.
Her vision was blurry. Her body ached. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. Hours? Days? She felt weak. Her head was impossibly heavy, but she raised it nonetheless. It was over. She would die now, but she would die like the regina she was—looking death squarely in the eye.
Sera was not afraid of death, but she was crushed by the knowledge of her failure. She’d allowed herself to be captured and now she was powerless to stop Orfeo, and her uncle. She’d failed her friends and her merfolk, and she’d failed in her quest to destroy Abbadon. Would the others make it to the Southern Sea? Would they be able to destroy the monster? Sera would never know. In her struggle to stay one stroke ahead of her uncle, she’d forgotten the danger Lucia posed. Her rival hadn’t merely moved or countermoved, she’d swept the game pieces right off the board.
Sera tried to move her arms now but couldn’t; they were bound by her sides. Her tail was immobilized, too.
“Shackles,” she whispered. “Shackles and chains.”
They were all that was left to her. She had nothing. No weapon. No troops. No friends by her side.
Her vision cleared. Feeble light, shining from above, illuminated a cave shaggy with algae. Feathery tube worms clung to the walls. Long-legged brittlestars crept across the ceiling.