Page 15 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Thomas pulled himself upright. “I can be a good king, Da. I’ve learned from you since I was little. I want to help the people and do what’s right.”

“I know you do, my boy. But that tender heart of yours may just get you into trouble. Being king means making difficult decisions sometimes, and I fear that would cause you undue stress in trying to determine what was right for your people.”

“But isn’t that why you have the council? To help you make the decisions?”

“Yes, it is. But did we not just discuss listening to them even when we don’t agree?”

Thomas nodded, his head down. “Yes, sir.”

The king clasped his shoulder a minute before turning to Arick. “You spoke to the harbormaster and the captains who were on the water last evening?”

Arick nodded, pretending not to notice as Thomas turned away with his handkerchief to his face. “They all said the same thing — the storm came out of nowhere. A few injuries, but no one was lost.”

“I’m incredibly relieved to hear that, but doesn’t it seem a bit odd to you?” The king strode closer to the fire, his unlit pipe clamped in his teeth.

“It does, sir.” He paused, wondering whether the king was aware of the rumors that swirled among the townsfolk. “Do you know the last time someone was lost in the Iskarraig Harbor prior to these storms?”

“I do.” The king gave him a hard look.

“Ten years. Except for…” His throat closed, and he couldn’t say it.

The king took the pipe from his mouth to speak, his voice quiet. “Except for the ship your brother was on.”

“Yes sir.”

“Why do you think that is? We’ve had storms, the passage is treacherous, yet all are saved from the depths.” He made large circles in the air with his pipe as he talked.

“The sailors have theories.” Theories that some part of him believed to be true — the part that vaguely remembered the figure that had appeared in the water as the sea had threatened to swallow him.

“What are they?”

He opted for the more believable answer. “Dolphins, sir.”

“Dolphins?” The king let out a bark of laughter. “Have you spoken with anyone who claims to have been rescued by one?”

“There’s one woman I want to visit. She was injured, and something pulled her from the water, but…”

“But what? Spit it out, lad.”

Arick plunged ahead. The king had the right to know what the people believed. “The scuttlebutt says that it wasn’t a dolphin that saved her.”

“Well, is it dolphins, or isn’t it?”

“I don’t know, sir.” The voice he had heard belonged to no sea creature he had ever seen.

The king stopped his pacing and studied Arick’s face. “There’s something you need to see.” He raised his voice. “Hughan!”

The door opened to admit the captain of the king’s guard. His face was passive, yet his eyes darted around the room and his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword until he ascertained that no danger threatened his king. He gave a slight bow. “Sire.”

“Hughan, I want you to take Sir Arick” — the king glanced at his son — “and Thomas to see our…guests.”

Something flickered over the man’s face, but he made no sign of protest. “Yes, sir.”

“Go along with the captain, lads. I’d best return to the council.”

With that, he left, leaving Arick even more unsure of what was expected of him.

W hen the pain did come, it was so subtle at first she didn’t notice it.

She’d been dozing to the sound of the voices below as the exhaustion of the day caught up with her.

The drowsiness shifted as she found herself needing deeper breaths.

Then the invisible bands tightened around her chest, and breathing took great concentration.

Sorcha pulled herself to her feet, grasping the edge of the balcony that overlooked the room below. Arick had told her to stay out of sight from the group of arguing people, but the panic that came with the pain drove all thought from her. She had to find him, that was all that mattered.

The room below was empty. No, no, no. How did she miss them leaving?

She stumbled to the door and tripped into the hallway.

Daggers bit at her feet with every step, but she had to find Arick.

The pull in her chest guided her along the deserted hall.

She hesitated at the door to the uneven floor.

Without Arick’s help to climb down the steps, she’d surely fall to her death.

No one was around to watch her limping progress, but with each agonizing step, she grew to wish someone would appear to help her. Someone who could find Arick for her.

Did Arick not know that being apart from him was slowly killing her?

The hall ended ahead, and she bit back a sob. The thread kept tugging her forward, and she couldn’t bear the thought of turning back. She staggered against the end of the wall, grasping a knobby bit for support.

The knob turned under her hand, and the wall opened, depositing her on the floor.

Cool, salty breeze caressed her teary cheeks.

A long open-air walkway stretched out before her. Columns rose on either side, holding the roof aloft. A carved railing connected each column. She pulled herself over to the railing, her feet grateful for the respite.

But the pain in her chest only grew. Why did it feel as though Arick was getting farther and farther away?

Did he not feel the agony that ripped at her very soul? Was this curse designed only to torment her?

Far below lay her home. The ocean swirled among the rocks. Each wave crashed high on the cliffs as though trying to reach her.

She shuffled along the low railing, trying to save her feet. The columns were too wide to reach around, so she hugged them for support.

Beside her, a soft voice asked a question.

Sorcha turned to see a girl with large eyes and hair like Thomas’s.

“I...” Talking was a wasted effort when the girl wouldn’t be able to understand her. Sorcha pointed toward the end of the walkway.

The girl slipped her arm around Sorcha’s waist and pulled Sorcha’s over her shoulders. Despite being shorter than Sorcha, she took her weight without faltering. She spoke gently, slow words that Sorcha didn’t recognize until the end. “...Arick?”

“Arick. Yes, Arick!” She lifted her hand and made a knocking motion with it.

Ahead, the walkway opened up into a large circle. To distract herself from the pain, she counted the columns.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight more to go.

The floor of the circle shone different colors, a design she couldn’t make out.

Almost there; only three left.

The girl kept up a soothing monologue, her voice rising and falling with the sea.

Sorcha could bear it no longer and collapsed onto the mosaic floor, the tiles cool against her flushed skin. Her necklace tinked as it struck the floor, a sharp sound amid the hum that filled her ears. She lay in a stupor, needing to move but unable to get up.

The girl kneeled beside her, a warm hand on her arm. Sorcha knew she should say something, thank her, but she couldn’t. She just knew, whoever this girl was, that she had saved Sorcha.

Sunlight glinted off the center of the floor. Sorcha watched it, mesmerized.

She pulled herself across the mosaic.

The call of the light warred with the pull to find Arick.

Her fingers brushed the piece of glass. Fire ripped up her hand and her arm.

Sorcha screamed.

“W here are we headed, Captain?” Arick asked as he followed the soldier through the castle. The guest chambers filled the east wing of the castle, and even though they were following a circuitous route, Arick did not believe that was where their destination lay.

“The dungeons, sir.” The captain offered no other explanation. He was twice Arick’s age, with a lean, muscular build.

“But the dungeons are back that way.” Thomas pointed to the hall they had just passed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why aren’t we going that way?”

“We’re going to the other section.”

Thomas stopped. “There’s only one dungeon in this castle. And it’s empty. There’s no ‘guests.’”

“Your Highness is correct,” the guard said, his expression blank, yet he made no move to return to the hall Thomas had mentioned.

Arick tossed his hands in the air with a sigh. “Captain, I appreciate the king did not expressly order you to tell us everything, but you might as well explain some of it and stop being so cryptic.”

The soldier blinked, his gaze flicking from Arick to Thomas.

Thomas crossed his arms, his chin raised. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell us.”

“If my prince so commands.”

“I do.”

Captain Hughan relented, his shoulders softening ever so slightly.

“The lower level of the castle was damaged in the storms at the end of last summer, splitting off access to the dungeons. Thankfully, we have little need for using them. With the cold of winter and constant storms, the flooded portion has yet to be repaired.” He paused.

“Which section are we going to?” Arick asked.

“The flooded section, sir.”

“But if it’s flooded, why would we have prisoners there? That’s horrible!” Thomas protested.

“I think it best if I just show you,” Hughan said.

They continued on their way, Hughan politely refusing to answer any more of their questions, insisting they would understand when they arrived.

They stopped in the soldiers’ wing as Hughan fetched torches for each of them.

Beyond the barracks, they entered a passageway that had been hewn from the cliffs.

Arick and Thomas had explored it as children, often using it to escape to the lighthouse, where their tutors wouldn’t follow.

This time, when they reached the curving stone stairs, they went down rather than up. Several years had passed since Arick had last been here, but he couldn’t remember whether the stairs had gone down before. Surely they would have explored it if that had been the case.

The further they descended, the mustier the air smelled, and the steps grew damp under their feet. Arick was soon panting.

Hughan stopped before a heavy oak door. “When you enter, you have to stay quiet. No talking at all, unless you are in danger. Is that clear?”