Page 18 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Arick made an apology, half-standing to help her. The woman shook her head and asked him a question.

He nodded. “— storms — bad — many people. — you —?”

Sorcha struggled to follow along with his questions.

At first the woman did not want to answer, and she watched her as the conversation continued.

Despite being confined to her bed, the woman wore a pretty gown of faded flowers, with her hair in a neat bun.

Sorcha tugged at her own tangled curls. The humid day had undone whatever order she had managed to tame it into that morning.

“— dolphin?” Arick asked.

Sorcha watched the woman for signs that she was hiding anything.

The woman pursed her mouth. “No, — dolphin… Something —”

Arick glanced at Sorcha before he continued, this time speaking so quickly, Sorcha couldn’t make out any words.

“— people — water —”

Sorcha swallowed. People as in humans? Or merfolk?

Had this woman been saved directly by one of the Watchers? Was there another merfolk experiencing the torturous life on land that she was?

Nothing more was said that Sorcha understood, and after a few minutes of talking, the woman struggled to sit up and pulled the blanket from her legs.

She tugged her skirt up to show the start of a bandage wrapped around her calf.

Arick sucked in his breath and stood for a closer look.

He reached out a hand, stilling when the woman murmured a protest. Her face turned red.

Arick let his hand drop, his face full of indecision.

Sorcha stood, pushing Arick away. He wasn’t a healer, and the woman wasn’t comfortable with him looking at her leg.

She hurried him to the door. Once he was outside, she turned back to the woman, a question in her eyes.

The woman nodded. With gentle hands, Sorcha lifted the woman’s skirt, revealing the blood-soaked bandages.

Was that how humans treated their wounds? She shuddered and peeled the layers off. Once the bandage was free, she could see that the wound wasn’t bleeding as badly as she’d expected, but the edges were red, angry. The bandage, too, was stained and fraying. She tossed it into the fire.

The woman and the girl both gasped at her.

“None of that — that was horrid! You need clean ones!” she retorted, hands on her hips. They stared back. Maybe they had no others. She limped to the door to find Arick. He was moving bits of broken tree around and lining them up neatly against the house.

“Arick!” she called, pleased when he responded right away. “I need seaweed.” She bent down and picked a few blades of grass, then pointed at the water.

He fumbled over it for a minute, before understanding lit his eyes.

She tapped his coat and shook her head, then pointed back at the grass.

To make sure he understood, she found a few more brown items and shook her head no, and then pointed at green ones and nodded yes.

He hurried off, and she hoped he would find what she needed.

When she re-entered the house, the girl had a blue cloth in her hand and was about to lay it over the open cut. “No!” she cried, pushing the girl away.

How did humans ever heal if they constantly put dirty things on top? She took the cloth and used it to wipe away the crusted blood from the edges. With trembling hands, the girl offered her a bowl of steaming water, setting it on the chair. She mimed dipping the cloth in the water.

To her surprise, it worked. The blood and dirt came off more easily, but the water was soon filthy. She handed the bowl back to the girl and sank into the chair, wondering what was taking Arick so long.

The woman reached for her hand, squeezing it. Sorcha nodded, frustrated that she could do so little for this woman. If she were home, she’d have no issue healing her. Aunt Maeve would have a tonic, and she would sing.

Sing. She could sing.

She hadn’t tried since becoming a human. Everything had been so overwhelming that she hadn’t wanted to. Closing her eyes, she sought a melody.

“Hush, little mermaid, close your eyes.” Her voice faltered. The song didn’t feel right. Although her mouth was able to form the words, the sound was off. She kept going, searching for her magic.

There. A tiny spark. She pulled on it, feeding the thread of light into her song.

The music was all wrong, though, and the magic didn’t grow like it should have.

She pitched her voice differently but couldn’t find the note.

She broke off with a gasp. How did humans ever sing?

How did they pull air in yet breathe out the notes at the same time?

She opened her eyes as she caught her breath.

The woman was looking at her oddly. Her cheeks burned. Had she sounded that bad?

The wound hadn’t healed at all. All that effort for nothing.

A knock sounded at the door, and the girl jumped up.

Arick handed her a bundle of seaweed — the green kind — and backed away.

Sorcha pushed aside her despondent thoughts.

At least she could do this for the woman.

The healing properties of the seaweed would keep infection out of the wound while it healed.

As she wrapped the seaweed in strips around the woman’s leg, she caught herself humming. The familiar movements of helping someone were soothing, and she hoped her voice wasn’t displeasing to the woman.

When she was done, she put the rest of the seaweed in a bowl of water to keep it fresh, and signaled to the girl that she should change them once a day. The woman had fallen asleep, her breaths coming soft and even. Perhaps the magic had worked a little bit after all.

Exhaustion settled on her like a cloak as she limped out the door. As soon as he saw her, Arick rushed over to offer his arm. She took it gratefully, the daggers in her feet easing as she leaned her weight into him.

He pointed at the sky. “Storm —”

She looked up. The haziness from earlier was gone, replaced by heavy clouds that gathered even as they watched. White caps formed on the waves, and tiny sailors ran back and forth on the pier far below them.

Sorcha swallowed against the dread of another night of terror and devastation.

Yet she couldn’t deny the hope that filled her. Maybe in the storm she could return home. To her family. To where she belonged.