Page 38 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Chapter twenty-three

H er limbs trembling, Sorcha clung to a rock at the edge of the pool. There was no way to stop both Ewan and Rona. Too late, she realized the only weapon that could have worked was Arick’s voice — the human voice that could have lured them out of the water, silencing their song.

But he was gone.

No one else knew they were down here.

No help was coming.

“Stay where you are while I finish this,” Rona mocked. “Be good, and I might let you live.”

Arick’s sword lay caught among the rocks, just out of reach.

Arick, who had cared for her since they’d first met. Who had never known her as anything but herself. Who had given his life to save hers.

Who had loved her.

“At least you’re back to being a mer,” Rona said with a curl of her lip. “No more of those disgusting human legs.”

Her voice turned sharper. “Humans are weak. Selfish. Now shut up and let us finish.”

Sorcha shook her head slowly.

She had always thought she had to choose. That she had to belong to one world or the other. But she didn’t. Her heart had space for both.

Her fingers brushed the sapphire necklace Ailsa had repaired for her. “No, they aren’t,” she said slowly. “Before, I wanted only to be a mermaid. Then I came to love being a human. But the truth is — I’m both.”

Closing her eyes, she wrapped her hand fully around the pendant, clinging to the words Ailsa had told her. “Now you carry a piece of both worlds.”

She didn’t just carry a piece of both worlds. She was part of them.

She concentrated on everything it meant to be human. Every new thing, every heartbeat, every step she had learned to take. Bracing for the pain, she clenched her jaw.

It came. Sharp, but not unbearable. Not like before.

Her legs reformed beneath her, unsteady and smooth. As soon as her feet touched stone, she pushed herself out of the pool, staggering past Rona’s reach.

Arick’s sword glinted amid the rubble. She lunged for it, fingers wrapping around the hilt. It was heavy, but she had never been weak physically.

Ewan’s and Rona’s voices twisted together, the cadence of the chant changing as the gem glowed brighter. Whatever was going to happen when they finished would surely bring the tower and the cliff down on top of them.

It was now or never.

Sorcha raised the sword overhead and hurled it with all her strength.

The blade spun through the air, end over end, aimed straight for the bracer.

A crack of sound split the cavern, sharper than lightning.

Water exploded upward in a furious wave.

The stone beneath her feet shook.

Light consumed everything.

Sorcha collapsed to the ground as the blast swallowed her whole.

T he voice of an angel pulled Arick from the dark.

“Hush, little mermaid, close your eyes,” sang the voice, each word brushing against him like a wave.

The melody wrapped around him, familiar and haunting, threading through the cracks of pain like a balm. He floated in it, adrift in sound, until something warm and alive tugged him back toward himself.

The scent of salt and rain lingered in the air, cut through with a faint metallic tang. A chill clung to the damp stone beneath his back, and water lapped softly at his boots.

The burning pain in his side ebbed, replaced by a deep tingling that spread through his chest and limbs. Breathing no longer felt like being stabbed. He drew a slow, shaky breath and let it settle.

“Rest in the embrace of the starlit sea,” the song continued, each note more powerful than the last.

The words had healed him once before, when he was half dead beneath the ocean’s surface. He’d thought it a dream. A final mercy. But now it wove through the air again, real and raw and impossibly gentle.

He forced his eyes open.

Shadows danced across the stone from a flickering brazier somewhere nearby. The distant roar of the storm was gone, replaced by gentle lapping as the floodwaters receded.

And kneeling beside him, haloed by curling red hair and firelight, was Sorcha.

Not an angel. A mermaid.

Her lips moved with the lullaby, her voice trembling slightly but sure in its melody. Her soaked dress clung to her frame, the fabric torn yet glittering still.

She looked like the sea come to life. Fierce. Fragile. Unbreakable.

He lifted a hand, brushing a damp curl from her cheek. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, and he smiled faintly. Too bad more of it hadn’t fallen loose from the intricate updo she wore.

“You save me,” he whispered, voice rough with wonder.

She paused mid-note and met his eyes, her own brimming with unshed tears. She smiled, that beautiful shy lilt to her lips that made him want to kiss her.

“You saved me first,” she countered.

He gave a lopsided grin. “Well, I was trying to be a brave protector. Pretty sure I just ended up as ballast.”

She laughed softly, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

“How did you heal me?” he asked after a moment.

She shrugged, a touch of weariness behind it. “You weren’t truly dead. I can heal wounds but not bring someone back.” He could hear the ache in her voice, knew how she had longed to save her father. Her hand found his again, squeezing gently. “But you weren’t gone.”

He tightened his fingers around hers. “I couldn’t leave you alone.” He shifted slightly, glancing past her. “What happened?”

“I threw your sword at Ewan.”

He blinked. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice. She handed him Rona’s bracer, the metal twisted and the gemstone cracked and dull. “I hit the bracer. The light exploded.”

He laughed, the sound echoing around the cavern. “Remind me not to hand you sharp objects when you’re mad.”

She smiled, but the light in her eyes dimmed as he asked, “Where are Ewan and Rona now?”

“I don’t know. They were gone when I woke. And I was more worried about you.”

He brushed a stray hair from her cheek. “I’m here,” he promised her.

She gave a watery smile as she nodded.

“The bond is broken now, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

“You broke it,” she said, “when you sacrificed yourself for me.”

“I’d do it again in an instant.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “But how do we know it won’t come back?”

“We can ask Aunt Maeve,” she said. “I suspect she knows a lot more about the bonds than she’s let on.”

“Later,” he said, his voice rough with something deeper. He wasn’t ready for more answers. Not yet.

“What?” She looked at him, confused by the shift in his tone.

“Kiss me,” he said, breathless. His heart pounded as he waited for her to decide. Their last kiss had been amid chaos and fear. Would she want to again?

She chose him.

She leaned down slowly, the soft red halo of her curls framing her face. Her eyes never left his. He reached up and cupped the side of her neck, drawing her closer, her hair brushing his hand.

Her lips met his, and everything else fell away.

Warmth bloomed through him, brighter and fiercer than the bracer’s light. The cold, the ache, the fear that she might vanish all melted away. There was only her, only this. Her kiss tasted of the sea, of hope and healing and home.