Rogue Wave (Waterfire Saga #2)(70)

“We’ve got to get out of here first,” Neela said.

The kelp they were hiding in grew so densely that they had to float upright in it. They could not sit down and stretch their tails out.

“Who are we still missing?” Yazeed asked.

“Bartolomeo and Luca,” came the reply from farther in the kelp. It was Niccolo.

“We wait for another half hour, then we head for the safe house,” Yaz said.

Serafina felt a thump. Coco had nodded off, floating upright. The child’s heavy head had fallen on her shoulder.

“I’m going to swim a little farther into the forest,” she whispered, picking Coco up. “See if I can find a place where she can stretch out. I won’t go too far. Give a whistle when the others get here.”

Yazeed nodded and Serafina pushed her way through the tall, leafy stalks. Abelard followed her. A few minutes later she came across a small clearing—only it wasn’t empty, as she’d hoped. It contained two long earthen mounds. Each had broken bits of bronze statuary lying on top of it. She saw a torso on one. A hand. A plaque. Fins. Part of a tail.

She bent over and carefully lowered Coco to the ground. The little merl woke instantly. “What’s going on?” she asked fearfully. “Death riders?”

“Shh, Coco, it’s okay. I was just trying to find a place for you to sleep,” Serafina said.

Coco blinked at the mounds. “What are those? Graves?” she asked.

“I think so,” said Serafina.

She swam closer and saw that the broken pieces had been arranged in an orderly fashion, with the tail fins at the bottom of the mounds, and faces at the top. She leaned over to have a look at the bronze faces, and realized, with a gasp, that she knew them. They were the faces of her parents.

Fresh sorrow welled up inside Sera. She dropped to the seafloor, wondering how it was possible that her heart could break over and over again and still keep on beating.

The pieces scattered across the graves, she thought. They’re from statues that used to stand in Cerulea. She recognized one of her mother. It had stood in a square in the fabra and had been a very good likeness of her.

Hand-lettered markers at the heads of the graves proclaimed the occupants to be the Regina Isabella and her consort, Principe Bastiaan. MAY YOU REST IN STILL WATERS was written under each of their names.

As Sera traced the letters of her father’s name, she heard an agitated rustling in the kelp stalks. A few seconds later, an angry old merman with a rusty spear stormed into the clearing. He looked like a stickleback—gray on top and orange underneath, with short, spiky fins.

“What are you doing here?” he asked crossly, pointing his spear at her.

“We’re paying our respects,” Serafina said.

“Oh,” he said, lowering the spear. “Well, that’s all right, then. I was worried you was some of them filthy marauders who killed the regina and her husband.”

“No,” Serafina said. “We didn’t even know their graves were here. Who buried them?”

“I did. Name’s Frammento. I live just over there.” He hooked a thumb behind him. “I make my living picking the dump and selling what I find. Found a bit more than I bargained for one night—two bodies wrapped up in a blood-soaked carpet.”

Sera flinched at his words, but quickly masked her grief. She didn’t want the old merman to guess who she was.

“They was Isabella and Bastiaan,” Frammento continued. “Traho’s thugs must’ve wanted to get rid of ’em all quiet-like so none of their subjects would have a place to gather. I was heartbroken when I found ’em. Mad as hell, too. I carried ’em away and gave ’em a proper burial.”

“That was very good of you,” Sera said, more grateful to the merman than she’d ever be able to say.

“It’s not much. Wish I could’ve done more. I had nothing to fancy the graves up with at first, but then Traho started pulling down statues and I was able to collect some pieces and bring ’em here. No one knew about the graves at first, but then one or two people happened on ’em and word spread. More and more come to pay their respects now. I’ll leave you in peace to pay yours.” He tipped his cap and then he was gone.

Coco, who was peering closely at the graves, said, “Oh, no. Sera, look at that.” She pointed to a small pile of rubble near the top of Isabella’s grave.

It was the crown that had rested on the statue’s head. It had been made not from gold or silver, but from red coral branches—a gift from the sea.

“It must’ve cracked and fallen off when Frammento put the head here,” Coco said as Abelard nosed the pieces. “I’ll fix it. I’m really good at canta prax. I was always breaking Ellie’s stuff and I always fixed it before she found out.” She sat down on the ground and started to fit the pieces back together.

Serafina barely heard her. She was looking at her mother’s beautiful face. Strong and serene, it gazed out at her now. She touched its cold cheek.

“The resistance is so brave, but it’s weak and scattered, Mom,” she whispered. “Safe houses are being raided. There isn’t enough to eat. Some of our people are very sick. So much needs to be done. Here in Cerulea against Vallerio and Portia. Out in the seas against Abbadon. I don’t know where to start.”