Page 3 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Sorcha started to protest again, but the pleading look in her sister’s eyes stopped her.

Ever since Ciara’s fiancé, Ewan, had vanished at the end of the last storm season, she’d become increasingly chaotic.

At first, she’d spent days scouring the ocean for him, but after weeks of no trace, she’d changed her focus.

Their father had given into her pleading and allowed her to join the Watchers.

If she hadn’t been the oldest, she would have joined when she was eighteen, as her song magic aligned with that of the undersea mammals, like many of the other Watchers.

She and her dolphin had been training all winter to be ready to help this season.

No one wanted to give voice to their fears, but only one cause for his disappearance made sense. Humans.

Ewan and Ciara made a good pair, both of them being impulsive and longing for adventure. Mother had only approved the match because she had hoped marriage would encourage them to settle down. Sorcha had her doubts on that.

But would Ewan’s impulsivity have caused him to help a human directly? Would he have taken off his starfish ear protection and allowed himself to be lured to his death on dry land?

Sorcha shivered again at the thought. Surely not — he was a trained Watcher after all, and safety was drilled into them. Save the humans, but not at the risk of a mer life.

With a forced smile, Sorcha tapped her sister on the shoulder and swam away as fast as she could. “If you want fun,” she called back, “you’ll have to catch me first!”

“Tag? Isn’t that a little childish?” Ciara retorted, giving chase.

The sisters raced through the grotto, sending fish and merfolk fleeing.

The massive underwater grotto was the perfect shelter for the merfolk home, providing the center for their aquatic life.

Smaller caverns, tunnels, and caves opened off of it, forming homes for many of the citizens of Muirin.

Sorcha’s own tiny cave, where she kept her treasures, was too small for anything else, and no one wanted to be tucked up against the cavern ceiling anyway.

“Caught you,” Ciara panted, brushing her hand against Sorcha’s shimmering blue scales.

Sorcha twisted away, zipping around a group of mermaids discussing hairstyles and the best pronglesnaffers to use for untangling knots. They tsked in annoyance.

“Stop acting like guppies!” one of them shouted.

Too late, Sorcha realized Rona was among them. No chance Mother wouldn’t hear about it now. Oh, well.

Ciara grabbed Sorcha’s hand. “Come on.”

Together, they swam past the palace — a towering structure of rock and coral in the center of the grotto.

Along the base of the palace, nestled within small caves and gentle openings, lay the offices of the various guilds and ministers, where the wheels of governance turned with an undercurrent of efficiency and harmony.

Ascending the levels of the palace, Sorcha's eyes were drawn to the regal quarters of the royal family, her own among them.

A sense of grace and elegance permeated these private sanctuaries, where the blend of comfort and opulence painted a picture of a cherished retreat.

Beyond the royal chambers, the infirmary and apothecary offered healing and solace, attending to the well-being of the merfolk community.

At the pinnacle of the palace, Queen Brigid’s throne stood as a testament to the bond between ruler and people.

Its intricate patterns and ethereal glow mesmerized Sorcha, drawing her in with their captivating beauty.

As a child, she would insist on going up with her mother, then promptly abandon her to play amid the vibrant palette of the coral formations.

It was said that with each new reign, the colors and designs would shift, a reflection of the ever-changing tide of leadership.

Although Sorcha was too young to recall her grandfather's reign, Ciara said she remembered it being more green than the current yellow tones that matched Mother’s tail.

In this wondrous underwater realm, where living organisms melded with the magnificence of nature, Sorcha reveled in the kaleidoscope of colors that embraced her.

The grotto's curved ceiling, a tribute to the awe-inspiring craftsmanship of the ocean itself, served as a natural amphitheater, carrying the soothing melodies of Mother's voice to all who gathered.

It was a place of unity, where the enchanting beauty of the surroundings mirrored the harmony and solidarity of the merfolk community, bound together by their shared love for this iridescent underwater haven.

No matter how often she saw it, Sorcha never failed to find something new and marvelous in the grotto.

Father waved to them, a smile on his tired face as they swam through the grotto’s opening. His own domain lay just outside. There, the Watchers trained and lived in smaller caves or on shelves of coral.

“Any sharks, Father?” Ciara asked.

“Not today, thankfully. You girls are free to explore; just don’t stay out too long.”

“More storms?” Sorcha frowned.

Father shook his head. “It doesn’t look like it, but the weather above has been…unpredictable of late.” A Watcher swam to a stop beside them, his fist over his heart in a salute. Father waved the girls off and turned to take the report.

“I still don’t want to go to the wreck,” Sorcha said. Even without sharks — or the drowned humans who drew them there — the newly sunken ship would be too eerie to explore.

Ciara shook her head, studying her sister’s face. “No, not today. Today is for sunshine and gentle breezes.”

Sorcha rolled her eyes at her sister again, turning to hide the dark shadows under her eyes. “You know we don’t need sunlight the way humans do.”

“I disagree. Look at your tail – it’s looking so drab lately. The sun will brighten that up.”

With a laugh, they shot upward and broke through the surface, where the warmth of the sun beckoned them to play amid the waves.

Sorcha had to admit that her scales shimmered a brighter blue in the light, and she enjoyed racing her sister, who swam just below the sea foam that collected on top of the water.

A rick turned toward the voices and noticed two sailors passing outside the door, carrying something between them.

“Oh, ’scuse us, sirs,” the first man said. “We’ve been told to bring this settee down here to the sitting room.”

The men were looking to him for an answer, but Arick deferred to Thomas with a pointed glance.

“Uh, go ahead,” Thomas told them. As the men proceeded to find a spot for the settee, he leaned close to Arick. “Do you think mermaids are real?”

Arick laughed. “The stories of merfolk are more than a hundred years old. If they ever did exist, they’ve died out by now.”

“That’s just what I said, sir,” the gruff one said. “Cliodna don’t work with mermaids.”

Councilman MacIsaac and the captain chose that moment to join them. MacIsaac glared at the men. “Back to work. And enough of this fanciful talk of mermaids and sea witches. No need to frighten the prince.”

Thomas blinked. “I’m not frightened. I’d love to meet a mermaid.”

“Be that as it may, there are none to meet,” MacIsaac replied dryly.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Blair said, his eyes twinkling.

“You’ve seen one!” Thomas turned to the captain.

MacIsaac sneered. “Surely you don’t believe such tales.”

“I’m not saying I do or I don’t — but you see some strange things at night when you’re out on the water, far from land.

” He turned to Arick. “But enough of that. We’re about to let go the lines, if you’d care to join me on the bridge?

” He looked to Thomas as well, making sure to include him in the invitation.

The four of them returned to the top deck and climbed the steps to the bridge. Unlike the near vertical stairs on most ships, these were wide and sweeping, so any ladies who might be onboard would be able to visit the bridge without fear of tripping over their skirts.

The next hour passed pleasantly as the captain put the ship through her paces, calling commands to the sailors who swung from the masts.

At last, they slowed as they approached the center of the harbor.

No ships were scheduled to be arriving, and any departing would wait for the ebbing tide later to guide them past the rock formations at the entrance, so they could take their time.

MacIsaac’s continued displeasure with everything nearly drove Arick mad, and he made every effort to shield Thomas from the man’s barbed comments. Guessing MacIsaac would shy away from heavy work, he volunteered to lower the anchor.

Together, he and Thomas worked the windlass and let the anchor go. Even though it would spend a good portion of its life on the ocean floor, the anchor displayed skilled craftsmanship and the ornate emblem of the crown.

With the ship rocking gently in place, there was little else for Arick and Thomas to do. Any time Arick tried to speak to the captain, MacIsaac was there, pestering Blair with questions he had surely asked a hundred times before.

“Let’s go swimming!” Thomas suggested. Arick eagerly accepted the distraction.

They ran down to the sitting room and changed into bathing costumes.

Cookie trotted between their feet and promptly found a patch of sun.

He stretched with a yawn, his fluffy tail dusting the floor.

Once he had changed, Arick walked out onto the platform, feeling the slight spring beneath his feet.

Below him, the water beckoned. The sun glinted off of it.

“Chicken?” Thomas asked.

“No, just waiting for you.” Arick grinned. With a shout, he dove off the platform, feeling the sun and air embrace him in a moment of flight.

The ice-cold water wrapped around him as he crashed beneath the waves. The shock drove the air from his lungs, and his eyes popped open. As he sought the surface, he noted how clear the water was, filled with sea life.