Page 20 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Chapter eleven

A rick awoke with the dawn, the soft gray light creeping around his curtains.

Worry about what might have happened overnight drove him as he hurried into his breeches and laced up his shirt before slipping down the back stairs.

Outside, fog drifted over the water, curling around him.

The water was still. Waves lapped against the pier as if apologizing for making a disturbance.

He sighed, letting his concerns slip from his shoulders.

He didn’t go far; the pain that came when he was too far from Sorcha would surely wake her up. Small bits of debris littered the docks, but he could see no sign of damage to any of the ships.

The world around him was coming to life with the sounds of fishermen readying their ships for the day. Someone whistled a jaunty tune, and a dog barked in the distance.

A normal day.

He heaved a sigh and turned back to the inn. Elsbeth’s words from the night before clung to him like the mist beading on his jacket. He needed to go back to the beginning and find out when the unnatural storms had started.

The inn came into view as he rounded the corner, and he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips.

Peering around the corner as though waiting for him was Sorcha.

No pain drew shadows over her blue eyes, and he didn’t think it was wishful thinking on his part that she looked pleased to see him.

“Good morning,” he said, offering his arm.

“Guh mooring,” she replied.

“If you’re up for it, I’d like to head to the castle and…” The blank expression on her face made him stop. Elsbeth was right; if he wanted to communicate with Sorcha, he would need to provide her context to be able to respond to him. He switched tactics and added in more hand motions.

“We go to the castle. Visit Thomas and Ailsa?”

Her face lit up as she recognized the names. “The cooky?”

He laughed. “Yes, Cookie too.”

She beamed at him.

Immediately after a breakfast of bannock cakes and bacon, they set out for the castle.

They took the cart, but he noticed that Sorcha was able to walk with greater ease than before.

He waited while she detoured to pet the little pony, something she made a point to do after every journey.

He wished he could understand what she whispered into the little velvet ears.

They slipped in a side door to avoid the central hall — and hopefully all the council members who frequented that space. A servant let him know that Thomas was in the family’s sitting room, so they made their way there.

Cookie greeted them with happy barks, his paws dancing on the stone floor as his tail fanned back and forth.

Arick guided Sorcha to the settee by Ailsa, who greeted her with a hug.

Immediately the two women began conversing, using both their voices and hands to convey their meaning.

Arick watched a moment, regretting he had let his knowledge of signs dissipate over the years.

Once Thomas had learned to speak, there had seemed little use for it. But now…

He looked up to see his cousin watching him with a huge grin on his face. He puckered his lips and brought his two hands together, making the fingertips twist against each other. Warmth flooded Arick’s cheeks as he glared at Thomas, grateful Sorcha couldn’t see the prince.

“A letter came for you,” Thomas said, moving to the narrow table along the wall. “From a girrrrrl.” He gave a pointed look at Sorcha.

Arick cuffed him lightly as he reached for the letter. “Can’t be her. We’re both staying with Elsbeth. Plus, she can’t speak our language. Stands to reason she also can’t write it.”

“Then who…” His eyes grew wide. “Are you stepping out on her?”

“What? No! Besides, we’re not… She’s…” he stammered an objection, then redirected his attention to the envelope in his hand at the sight of Thomas’s broad grin.

“Then who’s it from?” Thomas tilted his head and scrubbed at his ear.

Arick studied the handwriting. He didn’t recognize it. A thin string was knotted around it. “No idea. Do you have a knife?”

Thomas pulled open the drawer hidden in the table and rifled through the contents. Arick turned and leaned against the wall, tapping the letter on his hand.

“Thom, do you remember when the storms first started? The bad ones, I mean?”

Thomas paused his search, his face scrunched up in thought. “They’ve been getting worse the past couple of months. But…”

“But what?”

Thomas chewed on his thumb, avoiding eye contact.

“Thomas?”

“The first bad one…the first that felt…wrong…”

“Yes?” Why wouldn’t he just spit it out?

“Six months ago.”

Cold swept over Arick as the truth sank in. Daniel’s ship had vanished in an unseasonal storm. Was his brother’s demise caused by the same mess that threatened them now?

“Here.” Thomas held out a thin knife. Arick stared at it a moment before remembering the letter in his hand. He cut the knot and unfolded the page. The page was covered in a tight hand, as though the author was unsure about writing at all.

Arick frowned at the message as he read, then read it again.

Sir Arick,

I should have told you this when you stopped by, but I could hardly believe it myself. However, I wish to repay the kindness that you and your nurse friend showed me. Thanks to her administrations, my leg has already begun to heal, allowing me to return to my duties as a governess in a few days.

You were asking how I came to survive the storm despite being tossed from my ship into the raging sea. You were right to question my story; I was hardly forthright with my tale. But allow me to correct that now.

When the storm blew in and the waves washed over my ship, I believed my life to be forfeit.

But I was rescued. There was something — someone — under the water with me.

Not a dolphin as you believed; a man. Or something like a man.

He appeared afraid to come too near to me, yet he ensured I had something to cling to and guided me to safety.

Please, sir. I know how this sounds. I read the fairy tales to my charges.

But I know what I saw. Not once did he need to break the surface for air.

And he had no legs but rather a tail like a fish.

He sang as we moved through the water, a beautiful melody I couldn’t understand.

His hair was of copper, his alabaster skin faded to scales of the same color on his torso.

I include these details only so you know I am being truthful.

I know I have no position to ask of you anything, yet I find myself unable to conclude this letter without one humble plea: If you find that such beings do exist within our waters, I beg you not to harm them.

He had no reason to save my life, yet he was resolute in doing so.

Such altruism deserves to be repaid in kind.

Your humble servant,

Miss Nicol Greene

S orcha slid off the settee to sit on the floor. The cooky danced around her, sniffing and nudging her face until he was satisfied with her greeting. He lay down beside her, his head and one paw on her leg.

Ailsa laughed and switched seats so she was facing Sorcha. She asked something, her hands moving in unison to make the signs “dancing” and “enjoy.”

Sorcha nodded eagerly. Dancing was a release, a way to express music through movement.

Ailsa clapped her hands in delight, then signed her response. Sorcha listened and watched, piecing together the words. “I’m glad. Ball for Thomas soon. Celebrate being crowned.”

“He’ll be king?” Sorcha asked.

“Well, no. Officially the next king.”

The cooky pawed for more pets, and Sorcha obliged as she pondered the human government.

She supposed it mattered little to her as she’d be returning to the ocean as soon as she could figure out how.

But a dance might be nice. Moving through the water, weightless…

No. Humans didn’t dance under water, and air didn’t have the same properties. Her shoulders slumped.

“I can’t dance,” she signed.

“I’ll teach you,” Ailsa reassured her.

“No…my feet hurt.” Tears prickled at the backs of her eyes. Not from the pain. She was surprised to find it was the thought of not feeling the escape dancing always brought that had her growing misty-eyed.

A look of mischief crossed Ailsa’s face. “We could find you help.” She glanced pointedly over her shoulder.

Sorcha followed her gaze. Arick.

Oh.

Her ears burned, and she ducked her head, certain that the cooky needed lots of attention immediately. What would dancing with Arick be like? Would he hold her in his arms like she’d seen humans do?

Ailsa’s giggles made her look up again in time to see Arick and Thomas leave the room. She waited for the tightness to form in her chest, but it didn’t come.

Still. It was unlikely to lay dormant the entire time he was gone.

“Where?” she signed, needing to know where the men were going.

Ailsa shrugged and stood. “Follow.”

Sorcha scrambled up, to the delight of the cooky, who scampered to the door and down the hall. She limped after him. Ailsa intertwined their arms, and they stepped out of the room. The two men disappeared into a door at the far end of the hall.

Despite their efforts to keep up, the girls fell behind, but Ailsa knew the castle well enough to not lose them entirely.

It reminded Sorcha of the first time she’d met the princess, and she sought for a way to ask Ailsa about her missing necklace.

They wound through long halls and twisting stairs, until they reached a flight of stairs that trailed down below the castle.

“Dungeons.” Ailsa signed, but her voice was uncertain. “Damaged, in a storm last year. Flooded. Not used.” After a moment’s hesitation, she led the way down into the darkness.

Sorcha nodded, her lips pressed together to hold back the whimpers of pain each step caused.