Sea Spell (Waterfire Saga #4)(37)

But then, as Sera was about to return to the goblins, Becca reached out and touched her arm. “Listen, Sera…there’s something else I need to apologize for. My, um, bossiness. I know it’s been over-the-top. I’ll try to take it down a notch.”

Sera decided to try one last time. “Becca, whatever’s going on with you, it’s about more than bossiness. Talk to me. Please.”

Becca backed away. “I—I can’t, Sera. I just can’t,” she said helplessly. “And you don’t want me to, trust me. Because it’s bad. Really bad.”

A cold dread seized Sera. For an instant, she wondered if Ling was right. Could Becca be the spy? But she quickly pushed that thought from her mind.

“Becca, we’re dealing with a spy, food shortages, and a coming war,” she said. “Oh, and an unstoppable monster, too. Almost forgot about him. Is your thing really worse than all of that?”

Becca hesitated. In her eyes, Sera could see fear warring with trust. She hoped with all her heart that trust would win.

Becca clenched her fists. All in a rush, she said, “I’m in love with Marco. And he’s in love with me.”

Sera blinked, barely able to believe what she’d just heard. “Is that what all this is about?” she asked. “Marco from the infirmary? The cute doctor? Why would that upset you so much? He’s wonderful!”

Becca pressed her palms to her eyes. “Um, no, Sera. Not that Marco.”

“Hmm,” Sera said, puzzled. “I don’t know any other Marco.”

“Actually, you do.”

“No, I really don’t, Becs. I mean, there’s Marco the duca’s son….” She laughed. Marco was a human. One of the good ones. He’d saved Becca from the Williwaw. “But of course it’s not him,” she added. “Because you wouldn’t…he wouldn’t…” She stopped talking. Her smile faded. “Oh, no. Holy silt, Becca.”

“Exactly,” Becca said miserably. “It’s a total disaster. He’s the most wonderful boy I’ve ever met. He’s good and decent and kind, and it’s all wrong. No one in my world would accept him, and no one in his world is even supposed to know I exist.”

“Hold on a minute,” Sera said. “It’s not wrong to love someone who’s good and decent and kind just because someone else disapproves.”

Becca raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why did you say ‘Oh, no’?”

“Because it’s also not easy. If you and Marco are serious about each other, you’re both going to face some pretty rough waters.” Sera put an arm around her. “But you don’t have to face them alone. You have me and the others. We’ll help you figure it out. That’s what friends are for.”

“Really?” Becca asked. The look on her face was heartbreakingly vulnerable.

“Really,” Sera replied. “Talk to them. You’ll see.”

Becca nodded tentatively. Sera could tell she was still worried. “I hope they understand, Sera. Compared to me, everyone else has normal relationships.”

Sera laughed. “Right. Especially me. I’m the queen of normal relationships. The merman I love is about to marry someone else. We have to pretend to hate each other. And his future wife is trying to kill me. Totally normal.”

Becca burst out laughing. For the first time since she’d arrived in the camp, the worry lines that constantly creased her forehead disappeared.

“Hey, Serafina, Becca…want some snask?” Garstig shouted. “You better hurry up if you do, before Mulmig scarfs it all.” He waved them over. The goblins made space for them around the lava.

“Come on,” Sera said, “let’s join them. I’m developing quite a taste for goblin treats.”

As Sera and Becca sat down, plans for building a forge and melting down shipwreck hulls were being eagerly discussed. The bag of snask was passed around, and Sera helped herself to a piece. She heard Vr?ja’s voice in her head, and in her heart. Help Becca see that the warmest fire is the one that’s shared, the river witch had said.

As Sera watched Becca gamely pop a pickled eyeball into her mouth, she silently thanked Vr?ja, then she watched the warmth of friendship work its own magic.





MANON LAVEAU’S black eyes glittered. From within the roots of the giant cypress where she was hiding, in the waters off Robichaux’s Swamp, she could spy the death riders’ camp. At its edge was a cage with iron bars. In that cage was a mermaid, lying motionless, her face turned away.

“I see two guards,” Manon said quietly. “Louis, Antoine, you take the one in the front. Rene, Gervais, you’ve got the back. Quick and quiet now, and don’t swallow the keys. You hear me?”

Four enormous bull alligators nodded in unison; then, with thrusts of their powerful tails, they swam off.

As Manon watched them go, a shiver ran through her. She pulled her shawl up around her neck. “I hope those boys listened. Gods help us if they make a racket.”

“The gods help those who help themselves,” Esmé said primly, waving away silt that the alligators had raised.

Manon snorted. “Says who? The gods, that’s who. I do all the work, and they take all the credit. Laziest bunch of good-for-nothings I ever came across.”