Page 19 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Chapter ten

B y the time Sorcha and Arick had returned to the inn, the skies had opened. She climbed out of the cart and raced to the shelter of the building as he guided the pony back to the stables. She couldn’t bring herself to go inside, instead pressing against the rough walls.

Lightning flashed, and she gaped at the brightness, the vibrant white overpowering what little light was able to penetrate the clouds from the sun.

Arick ran through the rain, joining her in the narrow space under the eaves. “— help. — here, safe,” he said, his hands moving as he spoke. His signs were jerky, but the more he used them, the more amazed she was at how similar they were to the ones the merfolk used.

She shook her head, and started signing. “No, I’m coming with you.” Anything to avoid the pain of separation.

And she couldn’t deny the hope of seeing her family.

Seeing her resolution, Arick nodded. “Wait —” He hurried inside, and returned a few minutes later wearing a heavy coat with a hood drawn low over his head.

He handed her a similar one and helped her into it.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and she shivered.

Everything was so much louder on land, the sounds sharper without the muffling effect of the water.

Thunder was not just louder; it was oppressive.

His hands settled on her shoulders, and he leaned down. Worry lines drew his hazel eyes together as he studied her face. Even through the heavy cloak, she could feel the warmth of his hands.

“— close. — water —”

She gave him a reassuring smile. He didn’t need to be worried about her. He couldn’t know, but she could swim far better than she could walk.

Except —

She couldn’t. Heat flooded her face as she remembered him pulling her from the water right after she’d gotten her legs.

She couldn’t swim as a human. Couldn’t breathe underwater as a human.

She was useless as a human.

Not that she’d been much more useful as a mermaid.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she tossed her head and forced a smile. “I’ll be careful.”

He grabbed her hand and hurried toward the harbor front. The rain grew heavier, and she gratefully tugged her hood lower. She bit her lip against the pain that came with each step. It was easier to run, springing away from the daggers, than to step carefully, and she kept pace with Arick.

Along the fingerlike piers, ships were tossing in the choppy water. Only a few smaller vessels had been out that day, and all around, sailors lent their hands to help secure them as they raced for safety.

Arick guided her to stand under the eaves of the building they’d visited a few days before. He leaned close to shout over the rain.

“Stay — help.”

She nodded her understanding and watched as he dashed through the rain to give what aid he could. The all-too-familiar feeling of waiting by the sidelines settled on her as she stood there. She couldn’t help here any more than she could underwater.

Waiting. Always waiting.

A sound broke through her thoughts, one that was both above the storm and part of it. All around was chaos. The men shouted as they worked to tie off a ship that threatened to buck the crew off her deck. The sound came again, from the opposite direction, wrapping around her.

Tears pricked her eyes as she recognized it.

Another glance at Arick. He had a rope wound around his arms, and he braced himself as another man attempted to tie off the line. He wouldn’t miss her if she left for just a minute.

The sound continued as the song grew stronger. Sorcha ran to the far pier, past the abandoned ships that groaned against their restraints.

She dropped to her knees at the end of the dock. “Ciara!” she called out, a smile splitting her face.

Her sister rose with the waves, a matching smile forming.

“You’re okay.” She reached a hand up to clasp Sorcha’s.

“Auntie said you were, but I had to see for myself. I thought… I turned around and you were gone.” She looked at Sorcha’s dress, the boots that replaced her once-shimmering fin. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Sorcha shook her head, her own tears mingling with the rain. “Not your fault. The storm was awful, and I couldn’t just let him drown.”

Ciara’s face turned dark. “You should have.”

Sorcha pulled back. “What? Just because I’m not a Watcher doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

“No, you don’t get it. Another Watcher went missing after the storm. The humans lured him away.”

Bands tightened around her chest, but this time it wasn’t due to Arick’s absence. Why would the humans want a merman?

“They don’t even think we’re real,” she whispered.

“Some of them do,” a third voice interrupted.

“Aunt Maeve!” Sorcha couldn’t help the surge of joy that filled her despite everything. “What are you doing on the surface?”

“I had to check on this one,” her aunt replied, nodding her head at Ciara.

Ciara rolled her eyes in the gray light. “I’m a Watcher. I’m supposed to be up here.”

Something felt off, but she couldn’t place it. Maybe it was her… She had changed.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” Maeve continued as though Ciara hadn’t spoken. “I found some old texts. There might be a way to break your curse.”

Sorcha startled, nearly falling in the water in her eagerness. “There is? How?”

“You took the curse of being human by rescuing one. Magic has a give and take. In order to undo the curse, an opposite action must be performed.”

Thunder clapped, covering her gasp. “I have to kill a human?”

“No, my little guppy. A human must do something of equal sacrifice to you. Specifically, your man must perform an act of selfless love. Only then will you return to your true form.”

Sorcha stared at her, a million questions swirling through her head. She opened her mouth to ask, then closed it again, unsure of where to start. Arick was kind, but he wouldn’t risk his life for her. He barely knew her.

“We have to go — humans are coming,” Ciara cut her off. “Take care, cuttlefish. I’ll try to come back in the next storm.”

Maeve and Ciara vanished beneath the waves.

“No!” she cried. “Come back!”

She had more questions. More things she wanted to say to them. But the waves hid all trace of the mermaids as it had for centuries, keeping their secrets.

Alone, she shivered in the cold rain. Wind buffeted her, threatening to hand her over to the reaching waves.

“Sorcha!” Arick’s voice pulled her back from the temptation to follow her family into the depths.

With a last look at the tossing waves, she hurried to join him. Lightning flashed, showing him in stark relief against the dark town beyond. He stood with his head tossed back, one hand reaching for her.

But his eyes were watching the water, not her.

No. He wouldn’t sacrifice himself for her. She was nothing, and he would protect his own.

T he shock of pain that ripped through him when Arick realized Sorcha wasn’t at the harbormaster’s wasn’t caused by their separation.

It was fear.

The storm was getting worse, and she still couldn’t walk that well. What if she were injured somewhere? He raced along the harbor front, searching for her.

A shout in an unfamiliar tongue drew him to the far pier. A forlorn figure huddled at the very end. Visions of her falling in tore her name from him.

“Sorcha!”

He froze as she stood lest he startle her more.

Her gaze lingered on the water. What was she looking for?

Lightning blinded him, and then she was there, a welcome shape among the spots that danced in his vision.

“We need to go,” he said, taking her hand. “The storm’s getting worse.”

She nodded and followed him away from the water’s edge. He drew her arm through his, telling himself it was to help her walk.

Definitely not his own need to know she was safe.

He led her back to the inn. The harbormaster had assured him all the ships were secured and the crews safely ashore.

If any inbound ships were outside the harbor, then there was little they could do to help.

Extra lookouts had been sent to the lighthouse, but no rescues would be mounted until the storm faded in the morning.

They ducked their heads and ran through the pouring rain.

The short reprieve seemed only designed to allow the storm to gather strength.

Arick held tight to Sorcha lest she be blown away by the gusts of wind.

Their boots slid on the slick boards, sending them sprawling into the muck at the edge of the pier.

He pulled them up, ignoring the mud splattered over them.

At least the wind was behind them, and they didn’t have to fight it.

They tumbled through the kitchen door in a whirl of wind and rain.

Arick hauled the door shut and leaned against it, panting.

Sorcha looked up at him from where she’d collapsed on the floor.

Mud smeared across her cheek, and she looked like a half-drowned waif. She blinked at him, her lips trembling.

“Please don’t cr—” His blurted words were cut off by a giggle.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Sorcha stared at him, her eyes round. A glob of mud slid from his hair and plopped onto the floor. He stared back before his own laughter broke out. She giggled again, letting it ring forth.

She leaned against the bench, holding her sides. Her laugh was like dolphins dancing through the surf, and he found himself unable to resist laughing in response. He sank onto the bench beside her, his legs weak.

Tears were streaming down both their cheeks by the time they caught their breath.

“Don’t you be bringing mud into my kitchen now,” Elsbeth, unfazed, scolded from where she was standing by the hearth.

She pointed at the boot rack, and Arick dutifully hauled Sorcha up to sit on the bench to remove her footwear.

A puddle on the floor marked where she’d been sitting.

He hung up their drenched coats. The heavy fabric would need to hang by the fire to properly dry out, but best to let as much water as possible drip out of them in the entry and not in Elsbeth’s spotless kitchen.

She’d been busy while they took off their wet things, and when he helped Sorcha limp over to the fire, Elsbeth handed them both a steaming cup of fragrant tea.

“ Tapadh leat ,” Sorcha said.

“You’re very welcome, my dear,” Elsbeth told her as she settled into the second rocking chair.

“Wait, you can understand her?” His heart leapt at the thought that maybe they could finally learn more about where Sorcha was from.

Elsbeth snorted, her eyes on her knitting. “Context helps a lot, lad.”

Of course. He tapped down his disappointment, wondering at it. When had understanding Sorcha gone from being helpful to something he desperately wanted?

The image of her reaching toward the waves was seared into his mind. For a moment, he had thought she was about to jump into the raging sea.

He shook off the thought and pulled a chair out from the table.

Elsbeth gave him a knowing look, but he pretended not to see it.

Sorcha was there, safe, and it was only his foolish brain thinking such outrageous thoughts.

He sneaked a glance at her. Her hands were wrapped around the teacup, but the laughter that had lit up her face moments ago was gone.

Now she looked sad, alone. He flexed his hand, restraining himself from reaching out to her.

He stood abruptly.

“Alright there, lad?” Elsbeth asked, the creaking of her rocking chair keeping time with her clacking needles.

“Aye. But these storms… I don’t know what I’m going to do about them.” He set his tea down, then picked it up again.

“Are you the Creator, then?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then there’s not much you can do, is there?”

He blinked at her. She was right, of course, but…

“The king has asked me to find out what’s causing them.” He lowered his voice, even though Sorcha couldn’t understand them.

“Ah, so he’s finally realized there’s something unnatural about the storms.”

Arick took a slow drink as he tried to decipher the contradiction in Elsbeth’s words.

“The Creator might be allowing the anomaly, but that still doesn’t make it your fault, lad,” she explained. “Unless you’re the one causing the storms?”

He let the smile she was angling for quirk the side of his mouth. “I am thankful no more have been lost recently.”

“Do you think that will last?”

“No. It’s a blessing, but the storms are getting worse.”

Elsbeth nodded. “Then I suggest you go get some rest and figure out what you need to do tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure what else I can do,” he admitted.

“Maybe you need to start at the beginning and look harder.”

They lapsed into a shared silence for a time as the fire crackled in determined defiance of the storm raging outside.

Sorcha was asleep, her cheek propped up on her hand.

After a whispered word from Elsbeth, he gathered her in his arms, careful not to wake her.

He carried her to her room behind the kitchen, amazed at how holding her had become so natural over the past short days.

Glancing down, he could see her damp lashes resting on her pale cheeks.

Had she been crying? He was a cad for not noticing.

He set her down gently on the bed and tucked a blanket over her.

“Good night, Sorcha,” he whispered, her name a caress on his lips. Climbing the stairs to his own room, he couldn’t shake the cold that replaced her warmth.