Deep Blue (Waterfire Saga, #1)(15)

“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.

A split second later, Serafina and Neela dove out the palace windows and were gone.





DETERMINED TO WIN THE RACE, Neela swooped around a spire, then dove. Hurtling down through the water, she shot under an archway, startling the Matali dignitaries coming the opposite way, and made for the ruins of Merrow’s reggia. She was swimming way too fast, but she didn’t care. It felt wonderful to slice through the water, to feel powerful and free.

Serafina had zipped around a turret and under a bridge and was now gaining on her. Neela put on a burst of speed, but Serafina caught up. They touched the front wall of the old palace—as much of it as was still standing—at the same time, then collapsed on a pile of red coral weed, laughing and out of breath.

“Beat you!” Neela shouted.

“You did not! It was a tie,” Serafina said.

“Yeah, except that I won.”

“I can’t believe we dove out of windows. We’re in so much trouble.”

Neela knew as well as Serafina did that swimming out of windows was bad form. Civilized mer came and went through doors. Aunt Ahadi would not be pleased.

“Yeah, we probably are, but it was worth it,” she said, pulling two sweets from her pocket. “Here—purple sponge with pickled urchin. So good, you have no idea. Better than boys.”

“That good?” Serafina said, taking the sweet.

“Mmm-hmm,” Neela said, biting into hers. She was eating too many sweets. She did that when she was nervous. Like now. Sera was going to ask about him. That was a given. What on earth would she tell her?

Neela stretched out on the soft coral weed and stared up at the sun-dappled waters. “It’s so good to finally be here,” she said. “The trip was totally nerve-racking. The dragons we rode spooked at every guppy. The sea elephants carrying our trunks bolted twice. I couldn’t sleep, because I was having bad dreams the whole time.”

“Really? What kind of dreams?” Serafina asked.

“I can’t even remember now,” Neela said. She did remember, but she didn’t want to talk about them. They were silly. “And Uncle Bilaal was seriously freaking out about Praedatori. He expected Kharkarias, their leader, to jump out at every turn. Even though he doesn’t even know what Kharkarias looks like, since no one’s ever seen him.”

“You weren’t attacked, were you?” Serafina asked.

“No, we were fine. We had lots of guards with us. But I was so glad to see the spires of Cerulea last night, I can’t even tell you.”

“I’m really happy you’re here, Neela,” Serafina said. “I can’t imagine going through the Dokimí without you.”

Sera hadn’t asked about him yet. Good. Maybe she could keep it that way. “How’s the songspell? Are you nervous? What are you wearing?” Neela asked.

“Not great. Very. I don’t know,” Serafina said.

Neela sat up, startling some curious needlefish who’d come close. “You don’t know what you’re wearing? How can you not know? Hasn’t the Dokimí been planned for years?”

“My dress is a gift from Miromara. The best craftsmer in the realm work on it. Only my mother sees it in advance. And anyway, it’s not about the dress,” Serafina said.

“It’s always about the dress.”

“I’m casting a songspell, not competing in a beauty contest. This is serious, you know.”

“Merlfriend, nothing is more serious than a beauty contest. Life is beauty contest. At least that’s what my mother always says,” Neela said. “I can’t wait for you to see what I’m wearing. It’s totally invincible. It’s a dark pink sari—the wrap is sea silk, but the top and skirt are made of thousands of tiny Anomia shells stitched onto tulle. I wanted it to be royal blue, but my aunt insisted on pink. I made it myself.”

“You did not.”

“I did. I swear it. But shh, don’t tell anyone. You know how it is in Matali. Gods forbid a royal should actually work at anything,” Neela said unhappily.