“What the—?” one guard said. He turned around, saw Sera, and rushed toward her.
She fired the crossbow. Her aim was true. The guard never knew what hit him.
“On the ground, I said! Hands on top of your heads!”
The remaining two guards quickly complied.
“Fossegrim, open that door,” Sera said, nodding to the cell on the merman’s left. She tossed him the ring of keys. He caught them with his gnarled hands, and a few seconds later, he was pushing on the door.
“Take your key rings off your belts, thrown them down, and swim into the cell,” Sera ordered.
The guards did as they were told. Fossegrim quickly pulled the door closed and, with some difficulty, locked it. He picked up the key rings.
The prisoners were more frightened than ever now. Their frantic calls echoed down the corridors.
“Prisoners, listen to me! This is Serafina di Merrovingia, your rightful regina!”
The shouting stopped.
“The noises you hear are the sounds of battle!” Sera shouted. “The Black Fins, my troops, are here. They’re fighting for the city! Join us!”
“No! Don’t go! Stay in your cells!” a frightened voice called out. “It’s a trick!”
“Vallerio wants to find out who’s loyal and who isn’t!” another yelled.
“Please don’t hurt us,” begged a third, miserably.
Sera pressed her hands to her cheeks. She was devastated. She’d expected a joyous reaction to the offer of freedom, to the chance to fight those who’d imprisoned them. But these merfolk had been so badly brutalized, they believed this was just another cruel ploy on her uncle’s part to extract information.
Summoning all her magic, Sera songcast the brightest, most beautiful illuminata she ever had. Its glow reached the dungeon’s darkest corners.
“Good people of Miromara, come to your doors!”
Sera heard groaning, shuffling, the sound of chains dragging over stone. Fingers, their nails black with grime, curled around bars. Frightened faces appeared.
“I am Serafina, your regina! This isn’t a trick!”
“Serafina! It’s Serafina! It’s her!” voices called out excitedly.
A few prisoners reached for her through the bars, but others shied away, pointing at her.
“Weapon…a death rider…kill us…” they whispered.
Sera realized she was still carrying a loaded crossbow. It was scaring some of the prisoners. She quickly put it on the floor.
“Sera…child, don’t!” Fossegrim warned. “They’re angry and afraid. They could lash out. Protect yourself!”
Sera shook her head, determined. “Citizens of Cerulea, hear me! I have laid my weapon down, and I’m going to unlock your cells. Do with me what you will. I would rather die at your hands than rule without your trust!” she declared.
As her words rang out, bouncing off the hard stone walls, Sera started opening doors. Fossegrim hesitated, then followed her lead, cursing at his broken fingers. One by one, the prisoners swam out, scared, unsteady, wincing at the bright light. Some were crying, others laughing. Some regarded Sera warily, others hugged her and kissed her hands.
She kept going, opening doors, releasing her mer. Fossegrim, his maimed hands hurting, gave the extra key ring he had to a mermaid, and she started freeing prisoners, too.
When all the cell doors had been opened, Sera turned to her merfolk. Will they be with me? she wondered. After all they’d been through, she wouldn’t blame them if they swam away and hid.
“Ceruleans, I need your help. We must defeat my uncle. Tonight. Your lives, my life, and the future of Miromara hang in the balance. Will you fight with me?”
A cheer rose. It grew louder and louder.
“We are with you, Serafina! Tell us what to do!” a mermaid cried.
The mermaid was little more than a skeleton. Her eyes were sunken. Her cheeks were hollow. Yet she spared no thought for herself. Sera’s eyes filled with tears. She quickly blinked them back.
“There are weapons in the guards’ room,” she said. “Arm yourselves and follow me. I am honored to have you by my side!”
Another cheer rose, and the prisoners mobbed the guards’ room. They scrambled for crossbows, spearguns, clubs, stingers, and anything else they could find. Sera saw one emerge with a paperweight in his hand. Another was brandishing a mug.
She felt a hand on her back. “Be careful,” Fossegrim said.
She hugged him tightly. “You, too, Magister. Find a safe place to hide until this is over.”
The old merman shook his head. “No hiding, not tonight. Tonight I have a score to settle. Traho destroyed my ostrokon. It’s time he paid his fine.”
Sera nodded and turned back to her merfolk. She quickly picked out ten strong mermen. “We have one more prisoner to free,” she informed them. “One who’s served a very long sentence. Will you help me?”
The mermen nodded. “How long has he been locked up?” one asked.
“She,” Sera said. “For four thousand years.”