Waterfire Saga, Book One: Deep Blue (A Waterfire Saga Novel) (5 page)

T
halassa pressed
a
hand to her chest. “What
is
this outburst?” she asked. “This isn’t like you, child. You know the songspell inside and out. All you have to do is cast it!”

“Yes. Right. That’s all,” Serafina said hotly. “Just cast it. In front of the entire court. And the Matalis. And oh, I don’t know, ten thousand Miromarans! It’s too hard. I won’t be able to pull it off. I’ll bungle that trill. My voice isn’t strong enough. It’s not as
beautiful
as other voices are. It’s not as beautiful as…as…”

Thalassa raised an eyebrow. “As Lucia’s?”

Serafina nodded unhappily. To her surprise, Thalassa didn’t lecture or scold. Instead, she laughed.

“Tell me, where does the voice come from?” she asked.

Serafina rolled her eyes. “From the throat. Obviously,” she said.

“That’s true for many,” Thalassa said. “And it’s certainly true for Lucia. But it’s
not
true for you. Your voice comes from here.” She touched the place over Serafina’s heart. “It’s a beautiful voice. I know. I’ve heard it. All you have to do is let it out. Show me your heart, Serafina. That’s where the truest magic comes from.”

Serafina laughed bitterly. “Show my heart? Here at court? Why? So Lucia Volnero can stick a knife in it?”

“I heard what Lucia said. Ignore her. She wishes she were principessa. She wants the power, the palace, and the handsome crown prince,” Thalassa said.

Worry darkened Serafina’s eyes at the words
crown prince
. She blinked it away so quickly that anyone else would have missed it. But Thalassa was not anyone else.

“Ah,” she said sagely. “So
that’s
what’s behind all this.” She sat down on a settee and patted the place next to her. “Tell me, does he love you?”

“Yes. No. Oh, I don’t
know
, Magistra!” Serafina said tearfully. “I think so. I
thought
so. But now I’m not sure. Not after what Lucia said.” She sat down next to her teacher.

“Oh, Serafina,” Thalassa said, putting an arm around her. “Have you told anyone how you feel? Your mother? Tavia? What do they say?”

Serafina shook her head. “I haven’t told them. I haven’t told
anyone
. I
won’t
.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll get out somehow. The courtiers will find out and then it won’t be mine anymore. It’ll be theirs. You don’t
understand
, Magistra. My whole life is public. I can’t go anywhere alone. I can’t do anything by myself. Every movement, every word, every look is talked about and picked apart. I wanted this, this
one
thing, for myself alone.”

Thalassa took Serafina’s hand. “You’re wrong, you know. I
do
understand. I know something of a life lived in public. I
am
the canta magus, after all.”

Serafina looked at her questioningly.

“My talent was recognized when I was a small child,” Thalassa said. “A voice like mine, my teacher said, came along once in a millennia. I could fold water, throw light, and whirl wind by the time I was four. I was taken from my parents and given over to the Kolegio at six. By eight I was songcasting for your grandmother Artemesia and her court.”

“How did
you
cope with it all, Magistra?” Serafina asked.

Thalassa laughed. “Poorly. When I was little, I took joy in my music. I cast my songspells simply because I loved to do so. But as I grew older and started songcasting for the court, I began to listen to what others said. I heard their remarks—some spiteful and cruel—and I believed them. I let their voices get inside of me, into my heart.”

Thalassa released Serafina’s hand. She touched her fingers to her chest, to the place over her heart, then pulled them away, wincing as they drew fine skeins of blood. The crimson swirled through the water like smoke in the air, then coalesced into images. As it did, Serafina saw the bloodsong—the memories that lived in her teacher’s heart. She saw nobles from her grandmother’s court whispering to each other behind their hands.

She’ll never become a mage…Her voice isn’t strong enough…It’s too low…It’s too high…Her trills are muddy…She’s too fat…She’s too thin…She’s not pretty…

Thalassa waved the memories away. “I tried to please the voices. I started making music for them, not me, and my songspells suffered,” she said. “Luckily, I saw what the voices were doing to me and I vowed never to let them in again. I guarded my heart fiercely. I closed it off. I allowed no one inside, nothing but my music.”

“I’ll do the same,” Serafina said resolutely.

“No, child. I am telling you these things to convince you
not
to close your heart.”

“But you just said—”

“What I
didn’t
say, yet, is this: If you let no one into your heart, you keep out pain, yes, but also love. When I was sixteen, I wanted to be a canta magus. Music and magic were all that mattered to me.
You
, however, will become a ruler, and a ruler’s greatest power comes from her heart—from the love she bears her subjects, and the love they bear her.”

Serafina thought about Thalassa’s words. She’d longed to share her feelings for Mahdi with someone. She’d longed to open her heart, but she’d been too afraid. Impulsively, she touched her fingers to her chest now and drew a bloodsong. She gasped as she did, for she was much younger than Thalassa and her memories were sharper. It hurt to pull them.

“I’m touched by your trust, child,” Thalassa said. “Are you certain you wish to show this to me?”

Serafina nodded and Thalassa watched as the blood swirled through the water, taking on shape and color, making memory visible. Serafina watched too. It had happened two years ago, but for her it felt like yesterday. It had happened before the raids and disappearances. Before the tensions with Ondalina. Before the waters had grown so treacherous.

It had happened in the ruins of Merrow’s ancient palace.

S
ERAFINA WAS HIDING.

From her mother, ministers, minions, and Mahdi.

She had stolen away. It drove everyone wild with worry, but she needed a few minutes a day, every day, to be free from the eyes and ears of the court. And she especially needed it today. The match had been decided. The announcement had been made. Serafina had met her future husband—and she didn’t want any part of him.

Mahdi had arrived in Miromara a week earlier, with his parents, the emperor and empress; his cousins, Neela and Yazeed; and their royal entourage, to meet his future wife as custom demanded. He was sixteen—serious, smart, and shy. He didn’t ride. He didn’t fence. He preferred the company of Desiderio—Serafina’s brother, a merboy his own age—and Yazeed to anyone else’s. He barely spoke to Serafina, who was two years younger. He was courteous to her, as he was to everyone, but that was all.

“He’s a goby. I’d rather marry Palomon,” she told Tavia, referring to her mother’s bad-tempered hippokamp.

Their first real conversation came about only by accident. Serafina had been sitting in the gardens of the South Court, listening to a conch shell, when Mahdi and his chaperone, Ambassador Akmal, happened to swim by. They didn’t see her. She’d hidden herself on a coral shelf above them, behind a giant sea fan.

“What do you think of the princess, Your Grace?” she heard the ambassador ask. “She is very lovely, no?”

Serafina knew she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she couldn’t help herself. Curious, she leaned against the sea fan.

“Does it matter what I think?” he’d said. “She’s
their
choice—my parents’, their advisers’—not mine. I have no choice.”

At that very second, the sea fan—old and brittle—cracked under Serafina’s weight. It fell from the coral shelf and toppled heavily to the seafloor, sending up a cloud of silt. When the cloud finally settled, Sera peered over the shelf. Mahdi looked up and saw her.

“Wow. This is awkward,” she said.

“You heard us,” he said.

“I didn’t
mean
to,” said Serafina. “I was sitting here listening to a conch and then you swam by and…well, I couldn’t help it. Look, I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“No, don’t go. Please,” Mahdi said. He turned to his ambassador. “Leave us,” he ordered.

“Your Grace, is that wise? There will be talk.”

“Leave us,”
Mahdi repeated through gritted teeth.

The ambassador bowed and left. As soon as he was gone, Mahdi swam up to Sera and helped her over the jagged edges of the broken sea fan. They sat down together on a nearby rock.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I know how you feel.”

He turned to look at her. “But I thought—”

Serafina laughed. “You thought what? That because I’m a merl, it’s all just fine with me? Getting betrothed at sixteen and married at twenty? To someone chosen for me, not by me? How very enlightened of you, Your Grace. It’s the forty-first century, you know, not the tenth. And to be perfectly honest, I’d much rather pursue a doctorate in ancient Atlantean history than marry you.”

After that, she often felt Mahdi’s eyes on her. They were beautiful eyes—dark, expressive, and fringed with long black lashes. She would look up at a dinner or during a pageant and catch him watching her. He would always look away.

The next time they were alone together, it was because Serafina had found
him
hiding. She’d had another history conch to listen to and had managed to sneak away from her court to do it. The only problem was that someone had beaten her to her new hiding place. Mahdi was sitting there, in a copse of kelp, with a knife in one hand and a small, ivory-colored object in the other. When he heard her approach, he tried to hide them.

“Can’t you give me one moment’s peace?” he’d asked wearily.

Serafina backed up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said.

Mahdi’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. “Oh,
no
,” he said. “
I’m
sorry, Serafina. I thought you were Akmal. He never leaves me alone.”

“It’s all right, Mahdi. I’ll find somewhere else to—”

“No, wait, Serafina.
Please
.” He opened his hand, showing her the object he’d tried to hide. It was a tiny octopus, about three inches long, intricately carved from a piece of bone.

“It looks just like Sylvestre!” she exclaimed, delighted.

“That was the idea,” he said.

“It’s
beautiful
, Mahdi!”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling shyly. “Nobody knows I carve. I’ve managed to keep it a secret. I don’t even know why I do it.” He looked away. “It’s just…sometimes you want one thing, just one thing—”

“—that’s for yourself alone,” she finished.

It was as if they were seeing each other for the first time.

“I have that with Clio,” she said.

“Clio?”

“My hippokamp. I’m not allowed to ride by myself, being principessa and all. If I want to go out, I have to go with guards. But I always manage to get ahead of them and for a few moments, it’s just Clio and me. All I hear is the sound of her fins beating the water. If a pod of dolphins swims by, I see it alone. If a whale passes by, I hear her song alone.” She smiled ruefully. “Of course, if I fall off Clio and break my neck, I do that alone too.”

When she finished speaking, Mahdi took her hand and placed the little octopus in her palm. “For you,” he said.

A few nights later, she felt him take her hand again—this time in the dark, during a waterlights display in his honor. He’d looked at her, asking her with his dark eyes if it was all right. She’d answered him with hers that it was. And then, one evening while they were playing hide-and-seek with Desiderio, Neela, Yazeed, and the younger members of the court in the reggia, he’d suddenly pulled her deep into the tumbled ruins.

“I found you,” he said, as they floated close together in the water.

“No, Mahdi, that’s
not
how the game works. Don’t you have hide-and-seek in Matali? It’s not your turn. Desiderio’s it,” she’d said, keeping an eye out for her brother.

“I’m not talking about the game,” he said. “I found
you
, Serafina. You’re the one thing. The one thing for myself alone.” He’d pulled her to him then and kissed her.

It was so lovely, that kiss. Slow and sweet. Serafina sighed as she relived it—then turned bright red when she remembered Thalassa was watching the bloodsong too.

There were more kisses in the days that followed. Stolen behind pillars. Or in the stables. There were long talks when they could break away, smiles and glances when they couldn’t. And then, as Mahdi was leaving Miromara to return home, he’d given Serafina a ring. It wasn’t gold or some priceless crown jewel taken from the Matalin vaults. It was a simple band with a heart in the middle, carved from a white shell. He’d made it for her, alone in his room at night. As he was saying his official good-byes in front of the court, he’d bent to kiss her hand. While he was holding it, he’d slipped the ring on her finger.

“My choice,” he’d whispered to her. “
Mine
. Not theirs. I only hope that I’m yours, Serafina.”

At that, the bloodsong spiraled into the water and faded away, and with it went the past.

Thalassa looked at Serafina. “And you
wonder
if he loves you, you silly merl?” she asked.

“I never used to, Magistra,” Serafina said. She told Thalassa about the private conchs Mahdi had sent and how they’d suddenly stopped. “I’ve had only a few official communications over the last year. Nothing else. And now…” Her voice trailed off.

Thalassa cocked her head. “And now?” she prompted.

“And now he sounds like a very different merboy from the one I fell in love with. A riptide merboy with long hair and an earring, according to Tavia. And a merlfriend, according to Lucia,” Serafina said unhappily.

“Lucia would say anything to upset you. You know that. She would love nothing more than to see you fail today, so you must triumph instead. Come, let’s work on that trill again, and on the—”

They were interrupted by the sound of a door banging open.

“Serafeeeeeeeeeena!” a voice squealed.

Serafina spun around, startled. A mermaid floated in the doorway to the antechamber. She was wearing a yellow sari. Her glossy jet-black hair hung down to her tail fin. Her skin was glowing a pretty pale blue. She was flanked by servants, who were buckling under the weight of the gilded boxes, beribboned clamshells, and gossamer sacks they were carrying.

“Great Neria, who on earth—” Thalassa started to say.

But Serafina recognized the mermaid instantly. “Neeeeela!”
she shouted, forgetting all her worries in the joy of seeing her best friend.

“Spongecake! There. You.
Are!
” Neela said. “I brought you soooooo many presents!”

The two mermaids swam to each other and embraced, whirling around and around in the water, laughing. Neela was bright blue now. She was a bioluminescent, like a lantern fish or a bobtail squid. A bewitching light emanated from her skin when her emotions ran high, or when other bioluminescents were near.

“Princess Neela, you’re
not
supposed to be here,” Thalassa scolded. “We’re right in the middle of songspell practice! How did you get in?”

“Tavia!” Neela said, grinning.

Thalassa frowned. “How many bags of bing-bangs did it take to bribe her
this
time?”

“Two,” Neela replied. “Plus a box of zee-zees.” She released Serafina, plucked a pretty pink box from a teetering pile, and swam to Thalassa. “I’m
so
sorry to interrupt, Magistra, really. May I offer
you
a zee-zee?” she asked, opening the box.

“You may not,” Thalassa said sternly. “I know what you’re up to. You can’t bribe
me
with sweets.”

“A chillawonda, then? How about a kanjaywoohoo? You
can’t
say no to a kanjaywoohoo. And these are the very best. They take the palace chefs three full days to make. They have eight layers and five different enchantments,” Neela said, popping one of the sweets into her mouth. “Mmm! Krill with a caramalgae filling…
sooo
good! See?”

“What I see is that our minds are elsewhere at the moment.” Thalassa sniffed, taking a sweet from the box. “You cannot stay long, you know, Princess Neela. Only a minute or two. We really
do
have to practice.”

“Of course, Magistra. Only a minute or two,” Neela said.

Thalassa, mollified, sampled the sweet. “Oh. Oh,
my
. Is that curried kelp?”

Neela nodded. She handed her another. “Beach plum with comb jellies and salted crab eggs. It’s
invincible
.”

Thalassa bit into it. “Oh, that
is
good,” she said. “I suppose, perhaps half an hour’s break might be in order,” she said, her fingers hovering over the box.

Neela gave it to her. As Thalassa called to her cuttlefish servants to bring her a pot of tea, Neela grabbed Serafina’s hand, pulling her out of the antechamber and into a wide hallway with windows on both sides, all of which were open to let in fresh water.

“Tail slap, merl!” she whispered, closing the doors behind them. “My evil plan succeeded. I thought you could use a break from practice.”

“You thought right,” Serafina said, grinning.

“Uh-oh. Opafago at twelve o’clock,” Neela said.

It was no Opafago, but a palace guard swimming toward them.

“Your Grace? Is there something wrong? You shouldn’t be in the hallways unescorted,” the guard said.

Serafina groaned. Privacy, solitude, time alone with a friend. She dearly craved these things, but they were nearly impossible to find at the palace.

“Great whites at nine,” Neela whispered, nodding at the group of maids advancing with mops and buckets.

“Good morning, Your Graces, good morning,” the maids said, curtseying.

“A giant squid at six.”

That was Tavia. “Serafina? Princess Neela? Why are you floating around in the hallway like common groupers?” She bustled toward them, glowering.

“We’re surrounded, captain. I’m afraid there’s only one way out of here,” Neela said under her breath.

Serafina giggled. “You
cannot
be serious. We haven’t done that since we were eight years old. And even then we got into trouble for it.”

“I call Jacquotte Delahaye,” Neela said.

“You
always
call Jacquotte!” Serafina protested. “She’s the
best
pirate!”

“Don’t be such a baby. You can be Sayyida al Hurra.”

Neela swam to a window on the north side of the hallway. She narrowed her eyes at Serafina and said, “Abandon ship, chumbucket! Last one to the ruins is a landlubber!”

These were the exact words she’d said to Serafina when they were little, pretending to be pirate queens, and challenging each other to a race.

Serafina swam to a window on the south side. “Eat my wake, bilge rat!”

“One…two…
three
!” the mermaids shouted together.