“Mahdi has an earring?” Serafina exclaimed, forgetting for a moment that she wasn’t supposed to be interested. “That’s ridiculous. Next you’ll tell me he’s dyed his hair pink and pierced his tail fin. The last time I saw him he was skinny and goofy. A total goby, just like my brother. All he and Desiderio wanted to do was play Galleons and Gorgons.”
“Principessa!” Tavia scolded. “Crown Prince Mahdi is heir to the Matali kingdom, and Principe Desiderio is a commander of this one, and neither would appreciate being called a goby! I should think you would at least be relieved to know that your future husband has grown into a handsome merman!”
Serafina shrugged. “I suppose so,” she said.
“You suppose so?”
“It makes no difference if he’s handsome or not,” Serafina said. “The crown prince will be my husband even if he looks like a sea slug.”
“Yes, but it’s easier to fall in love with a good-looking merman than a sea slug!”
“Love has nothing to do with it, Tavia, and you know it. My marriage is a matter of state, not a matter of the heart. Royal alliances are made to strengthen bonds between realms and advance common interests.”
“Fine words coming from one who’s never actually been in love,” Tavia sniffed. “You’re your mother’s daughter, that’s for certain. Duty above all.” She scuttled off to chide a chambermaid.
Serafina smiled, pleased she’d thrown Tavia off the scent. If she only knew.
But she didn’t. And she wouldn’t. Serafina had kept her secret, and she wasn’t about to reveal it now.
She took a deep breath again and tried once more to practice her songspell.
“Coco, stop pestering Baronessa Agneta, and try on your gown!” a voice scolded. This time it was Lady Elettra, Cosima’s older sister, who interrupted her.
“Gowns are boring,” Cosima said, darting off.
And then Serafina heard another voice, secretive and hushed. “Is that what you’re wearing to the procession? You shouldn’t try so hard to outshine the princess.”
There was laughter, throaty and low, and then a voice, beautiful and beguiling: “I don’t have to try. It’s no contest. He’s only going through with the betrothal because he has to. Everyone knows that. He couldn’t care less about it. Or her.”
The words cut like shark’s teeth. Serafina dropped a note and bungled the measure. She looked straight ahead, into the mica panel. In it she saw Lucia Volnero and Bianca di Remora, two of her ladies-in-waiting. They were at the far end of the chamber, holding up a spectacular gown and whispering. They didn’t know it, but the room’s vaulted ceiling channeled sound. Words spoken on one side of the chamber could be heard on the other, just as the ones speaking them could be seen in the mica panels.
Bianca continued the conversation. “What everyone knows, mia amica, is that you want him for yourself,” she said. “Better give up that idea!”
“Why should I?” Lucia said. “A duchessa’s daughter is a catch, too, don’t you think? Especially this duchessa’s daughter. He certainly seems to think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“A clutch of us snuck out last night. We went to the Lagoon.”
Serafina couldn’t believe it. The Lagoon, the waters off the human city of Venice, was not far from Miromara, but it was forbidden to merfolk. It was a treacherous place—labyrinthine, dark, and full of dangerous creatures. It was also full of humans—the most dangerous creatures of all.
“You did not!” Bianca said.
“Oh, yes we did. It was totally riptide. We were shoaling all night. The Matalis, me, and a few other merls. It was wild,” Lucia said.
“Did anything happen? With you and the prince?”
Lucia smiled wickedly. “Well, he really knows how to shoal. He has some fierce moves and…”
Bianca giggled. “And? And what?”
Lucia’s reply was drowned out by a group of chattery maids bustling in with gowns.
Serafina’s cheeks burned; she looked at the floor. She was hurt and furious. She wanted to tell Lucia that she’d heard every rotten word she’d said—but she didn’t. She was royalty, and royalty did not shout. Royalty did not slap their tails. Royalty did not lose control. Ever. Those who would command others must first command themselves, her mother often told her. Usually when she complained about sitting next to a dull ambassador at a state dinner. Or got caught fencing in the Grand Hall with Desiderio.
She glanced at Lucia again. She’s always causing trouble. Why does she even have to be here? she wondered, but she knew the answer: Lucia was a member of the Volnero—a noble family as old, and nearly as powerful, as her own. The Volnero duchessas had the right to be at court and their daughters had the hereditary privilege of waiting upon the realm’s principessas.