Page 22 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Chapter twelve

T he crying of gulls pulled Sorcha from sleep. Shivering, she sat up, her entire body aching. Smooth pebbles shifted beneath her. Her eyes itched, and she rubbed her face, trying to remember why she was on the shore alone.

Her aunt. Arick. The merfolk.

She twisted around in search of the tunnel. The tide had come in while she slept, hiding the treacherous pathway she’d used. She rubbed her chest, the familiar ache telling her Arick wasn’t close by. She had a vague memory that he’d been there. Had he seen Maeve?

At any rate, he hadn’t pieced together yet that she was a mermaid, or else she’d be in the dungeons with the others.

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them as she stared out to sea. The gray ocean showed no sign of the intricate life that swirled beneath the waves. A steady breeze carried the spray over her, mingling with the tears that fell anew.

Her thoughts churned as she watched the uneasy ocean. Why were the humans taking merfolk prisoner? They could have easily used their siren voices to lure them onto land, but they’d had the decency not to do that. But what was the point?

Arick was convinced the storms were magical. Did he think the merfolk were behind them? She could almost understand that then.

She shifted, the hard rocks beneath her digging into her legs, but she wasn’t ready to move yet.

If someone from Muirin was causing the storms, who was it? Aunt Maeve came to mind. No, that was all wrong. Maeve only ever used her magic to heal people. She wouldn’t cause harm — would she even know how?

A cold shudder rippled through her, and she reluctantly got to her feet. As much as she didn’t want to, she needed to find Arick. Despite what she’d learned about him, he was still the only one who could break her curse and save her from inevitable death.

The uneven shore made walking difficult, and she stumbled with each step. The ever-persistent daggers added to her struggles.

“Sorcha!”

She looked up to see Thomas waving at her, his round, youthful face pinched in worry. The cooky trotted over the rocks to greet her, his tail wagging in delight. Thomas offered his arm as he joined her.

“Cold?” he asked, using a sign she was familiar with.

She hesitated before replying “yes . ”

He rubbed her arm and guided her to a door in the side of the cliff.

She hadn’t noticed before, but the castle wall extended down to the shore.

They slipped inside, and Sorcha blinked against the sudden gloom.

Thomas whispered something to the guard, then led her to a small comfortable room.

A fire danced cheerily, filling the air with the rich scent of burning heath.

Thomas directed her to a chair and pushed a footstool over for her. He scampered around the room, moving tables and tugging another chair closer. The cooky leaned against her legs, lifting one paw to beg for pets. She obliged while waiting for Thomas to finish whatever it was he was doing.

He dropped a blanket in her lap. “Sorry,” he signed. “I should have brought that first.”

The door opened, and a young woman in a gray dress backed in, pushing the door open to not spill the tray of tea she carried.

When she turned and saw Thomas, she blushed pink and gave a little bob.

Thomas’s ears flushed red, and he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room until she’d set the tray down and left.

With deliberate movements, Thomas poured two cups of tea and added generous amounts of milk and sugar to both. He carried over one cup in both hands, mincing his steps to avoid spills. His hand jarred it as he set the cup down, sloshing tea into the saucer. He let out a deep sigh.

“Sorry. Too clumsy.”

Sorcha helped him mop it up and took the second cup from him so he didn’t have to lower it to the small table. She took a sip, expecting the same earthy flavors as the tea Elsbeth served. To her surprise, this one tasted of fruit and was much sweeter.

The ache in her limbs faded as the warmth from the tea and the fire soothed her, but the burning one in her chest lingered. She didn’t know whether it was caused by her separation from Arick or the deeper rift he’d torn between them.

After some time, she gave in and asked where he was, using slow hand motions to ensure Thomas understood her meaning.

He fidgeted, then shuffled his seat over so they could see each other’s hands easily. “He’s with the councilmen. They wanted to talk to him…about me.”

“You? Why?”

Thomas squirmed again, looking down at his hands. “They don’t think I’m a fit prince. They want Arick to have the crown.”

Sorcha frowned as she followed his hands. So many of their signs were the same, but some were different, so she wasn’t sure whether she understood correctly. “But you’re the king’s son.”

He nodded, rubbing a hand across his face. “I am. But I’m…different. I know I’m not as smart as Arick. He’d make a good king.”

“What do you want?”

Thomas looked surprised at the question, then nodded. “I want my people to be happy. To be protected.” He paused, his hands starting to form words, then stopping. “I believe I could be a good king. But if Arick would do a better job, then maybe I should step down.”

The dejection on his face made her heart ache.

She leaned forward to touch his hand. When he finally met her gaze, she gave him an encouraging smile.

“I think…if you’re willing to do that for your people — to step aside to let someone else rule for the good of your country — then you’re just the sort of king they need. ”

He dashed a hand across his eyes and smiled at her in return. “Thanks, Sorcha. You’re pretty smart yourself.”

They sat quietly until a servant summoned him away, leaving Sorcha alone.

The warmth made her drowsy, but she couldn’t help thinking of what she and Thomas had talked of.

As much as she wanted nothing more to do with Arick, maybe she needed to put her feelings aside and do what was right for everyone — merfolk and humans alike.

A rick stormed through the castle, seeking an escape, but no matter which way he turned, there was always someone lingering. He didn’t want even a servant to see how angry he was.

How dare those fools use his brother’s death to manipulate him?

And how dare Sorcha not tell him she was a mermaid?

“Maybe because she knew you wouldn’t have been able to understand her?”

He jumped. His wanderings had taken him into the long gallery that he hadn’t realized was occupied. Or that he’d spoken aloud.

Aisla set her book aside and stood to join him.

“Still,” he grumbled, “she could have found a way to tell me.”

“Oh, sure, that would have gone well,” his cousin replied. “‘Hi there, human man who has never seen a mermaid. I am one, and I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d help me get back home.’” She crossed her arms. “And you’d have believed her, then?”

“I…yes.”

Ailsa quirked an eyebrow at him. “Right. Because when you did learn about mermaids being real, the first thing you did was…?”

“Blame them for the storms.” His shoulders drooped.

“Right.”

He dropped into a chair beside the one she’d abandoned and held his head. “What am I going to do, Ailsa? Everyone has all these expectations of me.”

“Who?” She didn’t seem surprised at his abrupt change of topic.

“The council just cornered me,” he admitted. “They want me to become the heir instead of Thomas. What’s worse, they said Daniel would have done it.”

Ailsa snorted. “Daniel was ambitious, but he was never that ambitious.”

He ignored the twinge of guilt that she had known his brother better than he did. “If I don’t agree, they’ll just find someone else.”

“Not if you and I stand up for Thomas. He deserves the chance to rule. If he steps down, it should be his own decision, not one that was forced on him.” The heat in her words reminded him of the tiny fireball who had defended her big brother even when they were all small children.

“Even so — Daniel was the one who liked all this political stuff. And I can’t help feeling that I owe it to him to continue.” He stood and moved to study a painting on the wall, that of their shared great-grandfather.

“What do you mean?”

“What if the mermaids are causing the storms? What if they’re the reason Daniel died?” he whispered.

After a minute of following his convoluted logic, understanding dawned on her face. “And by being friends with a mermaid, you feel you’re betraying Daniel?”

He could only nod.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Arick tried to deny it, but the ache in his heart refused to let him. “What does this mean?” He showed her the sign that he’d seen the other mermaid use when she was talking to Sorcha.

Ailsa copied his movements, her brows furrowed. “Oh! Was it more like this?” She changed her hand placement and made the motion more crisp.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“It means…bound, or to bind. Why?”

The frown returned to his face. “The other mermaid said Sorcha and I were bound together. I don’t understand what she meant though.”

Ailsa shook her head at him. “You’re going to have to talk to Sorcha about that.”

Right. The exact thing he did not want to do.