Page 14 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Even though she couldn’t understand him, he chatted away as they made their way across the courtyard and through the castle. He was pleased that walking didn’t pain her as much as before, but he still kept his arm firmly around her.

A short man who looked as though something had died in his shoe cut off their progress through the great hall. Arick kicked himself. Councilman Murray was known for being close with MacIsaac, and even more unpleasant.

“Who’s this?” he snapped.

“Murray, this is Lady Sorcha.” He bowed, just enough to be polite. The councilman had forgone the preliminaries of polite society, so he could too.

Murray sniffed. “Never heard of her. Who’s her father?”

Oh, right. He should have remembered that giving her a title would mean she’d be tied to one of the landed families. But she carried herself with such grace he could only assume she was part of the nobility. “She’s from Edeland,” he replied, pulling himself to his full height.

“Hmm,” Murray sneered. “Does Princess Aisla know about your lady ?”

Arick bit his tongue. Responding to the man’s insinuations as to who Sorcha was would only confirm the man’s beliefs, and he was all too aware of the guards, servants, and other nobles who wandered the hall. “We were just on our way to meet her. Do you know whether she’s with the king?”

There. Any within hearing would know that Sorcha was someone worthy of meeting the king.

“You dare to introduce her to your betrothed?”

Arick had a sudden desire to not have to support Sorcha. If his hands had been free, then he could have demonstrated just what he thought of this man. As it was, he bit back his anger and focused on getting out of the situation without causing further damage.

“The princess is my cousin, and a child. I would thank you to remember that, Councilman Murray.”

It was a low blow, but reminding the man that he held no title beyond that which the king allowed him to use was necessary to put him in his place. Not wanting to give the man a chance to respond, he led Sorcha away, hoping Ailsa would forgive him for calling her a child.

Beside him, Sorcha shuddered. He glanced at her, and she gave him a look with her nose scrunched up. He couldn’t help the laugh that spilled forth. She had perfectly captured how it felt to be stuck talking to Murray.

T he castle was far grander than the grotto, but oh, so harsh.

The ubiquitous gray of the stone walls was impressive in its uniformity, yet the sameness reminded her of the moody ocean on a cloudy day.

Where was the color? The delightful outcropping of coral that revealed a new nook full of surprises or the kelp that waved to her each morning?

Even the humans that stood outside were dressed the same, albeit in greens and blues woven together.

Inside there were even more people. She was grateful for Arick.

He was so tall that if she hadn’t needed his help walking, she could have hidden behind him.

Most of the people nodded politely, but that one man was odious.

The sneer on his face made her glad she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

Arick led her away, his arm tight and rigid under her hand.

“He looks like a blobfish,” she told him. She made sure her voice held laughter so he knew she was teasing. Maybe she could draw him a picture later, if they went back to the sandy beach.

Arick guided her down a long hallway, then through a heavy wooden door to where the floor rose in increments, merging with the wall.

Arick walked straight to it and put his foot on the first step.

She followed suit, but her foot banged into the riser.

He bent to pick her up, but she pushed him away.

Although it was nice that he was willing to do so, she wanted to learn how to do human things.

And this odd floor wasn’t about to defeat her.

She ignored Arick’s confused looks as she struggled to lift her foot up to place it on the next step. Pushing him, she motioned upward. He caught on, walking up a few steps before pausing.

She concentrated on how he did it.

Lift one foot, then slide it forward onto the higher part of the floor.

She tried it, and nearly fell over backward.

Arick caught her hands and tugged her forward.

After a couple of steps, he resumed his position beside her, and they went up in unison.

He talked as they went, naming the various things around them, but she was so busy not wanting to fall back down that she didn’t pay much attention.

At the top, he grinned at her, and she couldn’t resist a little hop of joy for her achievement.

Pain shot through her feet, and she collapsed against him.

He steadied her with the most adorable look of concern mingled with confusion. Her cheeks warmed, and she pulled away, shuffling her feet to avoid the daggers again.

She could see he wanted to question her, but what could she say that he would understand? Even if they spoke the same language, she wasn’t sure she could explain this to him. She could barely understand it herself.

After a moment, he gently took her arm again and opened another heavy wooden door. The hallway here was devoid of people, and the quiet was welcoming. They hurried to another door. Arick placed his finger over his mouth and made a shushing sound.

She repeated it, wondering what it was for. He made a face, shrugged, and opened the door.

The sound of voices greeted them, but she could only see Thomas and the cooky sitting on the floor beside a low wall. Arick ducked, and tugged her down with him. With great care, he pulled the door shut quietly. He shuffled over to Thomas.

Sorcha followed and sat next to the cooky. Its mouth opened in what she took to be a friendly expression, the long tail thumping on the floor.

Arick and Thomas leaned against the low wall. The voices continued, rising and falling over one another. Some spoke with urgency while others held a mocking tone. One droned on as if talking in his sleep. She sat up on her knees to peer over the wall.

A large man was sitting in a raised seat, looking out over the room. A guard stood on either side of him, and two people sat quietly at little desks below him. A man in a gray coat focused fully on making little scribbles on a white block while the woman watched the speakers.

The voices were coming from the rows of people. Two were facing her, and more voices were coming from below her.

Arick grabbed her arm and pulled her down, placing his finger over his mouth again.

Oh. They were hiding.

She grinned at the thought of these two men hiding from whoever was in the room below. She wondered what the room was for. It was large, and fashioned with greater care than the other human places she’d seen so far.

The voices pinged back and forth, rising and falling. She couldn’t make out any of the words, but at times, anger bounced around the room. A higher-pitched voice, a woman’s, spoke passionately for an extended time, but she was soon cut off by the divisive tones from several men.

Sorcha grew bored of trying to understand the conversations, and settled more comfortably near the cooky. She tapped his feet, and he’d shift them away. Any time she tapped his nose, he’d lick her chin.

Below, the voices grew more heated, and Arick and Thomas listened with great interest, their faces creased in concern.

A booming voice broke across the cacophony. “Thomas…!”

She couldn’t understand the rest, but Thomas had turned pink. Arick set a hand on his shoulder.

The cooky padded over to Thomas and pawed at him. When Thomas didn’t pet him, he let out a short bark.

The voices below stilled. Arick and Thomas exchanged a look.

The booming voice called out again. “Arick! Thomas!” followed by what sounded like a command.

Thomas hopped up and peered over the edge. With a forced smile, he waved at those below and greeted them.

Arick motioned for her to stay there. The two men walked to a door at the end of the balcony and disappeared down a spiral version of the uneven floor. The cooky went with them, hopping down.

Sorcha huddled down in the corner, and waited for the pain to come.

T he king’s favorite sitting room opened off the council chambers. He led Arick and Thomas through without even looking at them. The massive fireplace held a crackling fire, despite the summer sun outside the slit windows.

King Craig took off his cape and tossed it over a hook. His favorite chair groaned under his weight as he settled in and picked up his pipe.

“Eavesdropping, boys? You’re both welcome to attend council meetings any time you like.” He leveled a stern look at Arick and Thomas as they stood before him.

Arick held himself rigidly at attention. Being caught eavesdropping filled him with shame. As children, he, Daniel, and Thomas had often hidden up there to hear what the adults had refused to tell them.

But they were no longer children, and sneaking around was inexcusable.

“They wouldn’t have said all that stuff if they’d known we were listening,” Thomas mumbled.

“The council has a right to express concerns about the future of the kingdom. That’s their role.” The king focused on filling his pipe from a leather pouch of fragrant tobacco.

Thomas muttered something, not wanting to outrightly refute his father’s claims.

“Arick? What are your thoughts?” The king pointed with his unlit pipe.

His thoughts? He wasn’t sure his uncle was ready to hear them. “Sir?”

“You can speak freely here. I won’t throw you in the prisons for being honest, lad.”

“Yes, sir.” He took a steadying breath. “The things they were saying about Thomas were…unkind.”

“And?”

“And you didn’t defend him, sir! He’s your son, the prince. You could have told them to stop.”

“Being king is not always about hearing only what you want to hear. Sometimes you have to listen to what others say.”

“But what they said was untrue, sir.”

The king sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Thomas, do you want to rule?”