Page 39 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea (Avalore Chronicles #1)

Chapter twenty-four

T he beach was nearly deserted, save for a few gulls wheeling above the foam-streaked shore.

In the distance, the broken lighthouse pierced the frothy clouds that dotted the bright-blue sky.

Waves lapped against the rocks with a steady rhythm, and the scent of salt and sun-warmed stone hung in the air.

Sorcha stepped behind the rocks, her bare feet splashing through the cool shallows. She untied her outer dress and draped it carefully over one of the guarding stones to keep it dry, her hand lingering on the tartan waist.

She sat on a low rock where the tide crept in, waves lapping over her calves.

Clutching the sapphire pendant at her throat, she pictured her underwater home — the coral grotto lit with filtered light, her sisters’ songs weaving through the currents, chasing Ciara past blooming anemones as their fins flashed like sunlight.

The ripple of transformation came, a twist of pain that she braced for. This time, it didn’t overwhelm her. A gasp of breath, a flinch, then it was gone.

Her legs had fused once more into a shimmering sapphire tail, bright and strong beneath the sun-dappled waves.

For a moment, she simply floated, letting the saltwater cradle her. Her tail flicked gently, adjusting to the shift, her gills fluttering open as the sea welcomed her.

She unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it over the rock with the dress. It felt strange to be without clothes again, but she wasn’t cold. Her scales shimmered in the sun, cloaking her in more than enough modesty.

“Are you decent?” called the voice that she loved most.

Slipping fully into the water, she pushed out until she could float freely, her fin stirring the surf. “I am,” she called back.

Arick stepped from rock to rock until he was level with her, balanced with the quiet confidence she adored.

“You’re not sea-foam.” His smile twinkled, relief clear in every line of his face.

“I’m not. You’re stuck with me on land.”

He looked out to the open harbor, the calm waves belying the civilization that lay beneath. “Just for the day, right?”

She smiled at his anxiousness. “I’ll be back by sundown,” she reassured him.

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised in return.

She gazed up at him, memorizing the curve of his smile, the way the sun gilded his ruddy curls, the hazel eyes that always made her feel seen.

She drifted back into deeper water, resisting the tug to swim closer. To kiss him. To stay.

But first, she needed to go home.

He stood tall on the uneven stones, legs braced wide for balance, watching her with a look that warmed her even through the chill of the tide.

She struck out for the open harbor, her body remembering the rhythm of the sea, the effortless grace of swimming with the current. Each movement came naturally, as if she’d never left.

She turned for one last glimpse of Arick. He stood on the rocks, still watching. She lifted a hand in farewell. He waved back.

Then she dove beneath the surface.

The cliff by the castle would have been a shorter route to the grotto, but she couldn’t bear to return there, not after all that had happened. Besides, the king’s guards were crawling over the wreckage, investigating the events of the night and inspecting the foundation for cracks.

Instead, she’d chosen the beach where her legs had first taken shape, where her life had first split in two.

Where Arick had found her.

Her journey this time was far different than the one she’d made that stormy night. The sea was calm, the sky above bright with morning. No shipwreck, no howling winds, no people in the water.

She slowed as she neared the grotto entrance. She’d left in anger, tired of chasing expectations she could never meet.

Rescuing Arick had more than proven that she was capable of so much more. And though she regretted the anger, she couldn’t imagine what would have happened to Arick had she not been on the surface in that storm, if Thomas and the cooky hadn’t pointed her to him.

With a deep breath, she crossed one arm over her chest and nodded to the Watcher at the gate. Strands of black seaweed hung from his spear in solemn respect for her father, the fallen leader of the Watchers.

The grotto was hushed, the usual choral of voices subdued. Merfolk went about their business, their movements restrained.

Then came a cry of welcome, and Sorcha was swept into Ciara’s embrace. “You came back!”

“Just for a visit,” Sorcha said, the hug grounding her more than she expected. “I have a message for Mother from the human king.”

Ciara pulled back, blinking at her. “But you’re a mer again.”

Sorcha straightened the tartan ribbon around her neck. “Somehow, I’m able to change.” She paused, giving her sister a deep look. “How are you? Tell me everything that’s happened.”

Ciara hesitated, glancing around at the other merfolk weaving through the grotto. “Let’s swim a little. It’s quieter near the kelp beds.”

Sorcha nodded, and the two of them slipped through the water together, gliding past coral shelves and waving kelp.

Only when the sounds of the main grotto faded did Ciara speak again, her voice low and tight with emotion.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Ciara said softly. “A number of us were on the surface last night as the storm started, ensuring there were no humans or other dangers. As it worsened, we were ordered to fall back. But that’s when…”

She paused, her voice catching. Her gaze found Sorcha’s, pleading for confirmation. “It was them, wasn’t it?”

Sorcha nodded, unable to voice the truth any more than Ciara could.

“I saw Rona and Ewan,” Ciara whispered. “They entered the cave beneath the castle. They had…magic. Human magic.” Her eyes fell to Sorcha’s pendant.

“And after?” Sorcha prompted gently.

Ciara drew a steadying breath. “After a flash of yellow light brighter than the sun, the storm just…stopped.” She blinked, remembering.

“We swam for the surface, all of us. But it was already over. Ewan found me. He tried to convince me to leave with him. He said we could start over, somewhere no one knew us.”

Her voice faltered.

“I couldn’t,” she finished quietly.

Sorcha touched her arm. “And Rona?”

Ciara shook her head. “No one’s seen her since the storm ended.”

A hush fell between them, heavy with all they hadn’t said. Together, the sisters turned toward the cavern where their mother reposed, the water cool and hushed as they glided side by side. Ahead, Maeve and a few others waited quietly at the queen’s side.

True smiles broke over the faces of the mermaids as they spotted Sorcha, and she found herself passed around until each had hugged her. Aunt Maeve squeezed her tightly, a knowing glint in her eye. “I knew he would do it,” she whispered.

Her mother held her the longest. “My dear girl,” she murmured. “You’ve returned to us.”

Sorcha pulled back, her fingers clutching her mother’s hands.

“I can’t stay, Mother. But I needed to come home.

To see you. To…say goodbye.” Her voice trembled on the final word.

She hadn’t been able to say goodbye to her father, but here, in the quiet of the sea, she felt him near.

Her mother gave her an understanding look, and they all settled down for a time of sharing their stories.

Sorcha settled into her usual spot in the sand by Ciara as Queen Cliodna returned to her seaweed-draped divan.

After a pause, Sorcha drew a deep breath. “I also bring a message from the king of Toravik.”

Her mother tilted her head, one elegant brow rising in amusement. “Do you, now?”

“He hopes to speak with you. Perhaps to renew the pact that once existed between our peoples.”

“A curious thought. Tell him I will meet him near the shore three days hence.” She paused. “I’m assuming you can get a message to him in return?”

Sorcha nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m going back, Mother.”

“But we need you here!” cried one of her younger cousins, who had until now only stared at Sorcha in silent awe. “You’re our Healer.”

Sorcha gave a soft smile. “And you’ll still have one. Maeve is here, and you’re about to start your own training, aren’t you?”

“You know you are valued here, Sorcha,” Mother said.

She shook her head. “I know you love me; all of you do. But here, my worth has always been tied to what I can do. I want to be somewhere I’m not measured by what I can do but where I’m wanted simply for who I am.”

“What will you do up there?” Aunt Maeve asked.

“I’m going to school. I want to learn, to explore. To see the world beyond the sea. And to find out who I am in it.”

“And the sailor?” her mother asked.

Sorcha couldn’t stop the warmth that rose across her cheeks.

“Ah. I understand how it is.” She gave her daughter a benevolent smile. “You will always have a place among your people, Sorcha. But your home must be where your heart lies.”

Sorcha left them then, circling the grotto one final time in quiet farewell. She passed the coral palace, pausing at her hidden nook to retrieve her old jar of trinkets. Each piece was a memory, a thread of the life she was leaving behind.

Ciara joined her as she swam through the gates. “I had to stay, you know,” she offered. “For Mother. I couldn’t leave her. Not now.”

Sorcha squeezed her sister’s arm. “Thank you. The Watchers will have the perfect leader when you’re ready.”

“You’ll visit?”

“Often,” Sorcha promised.

They said one last goodbye, then Sorcha headed for the surface, and for the sailor who waited for her there.

A rick watched the shimmer of iridescent scales vanish beneath the water until he could no longer pretend he still saw them.

Sorcha was on her way to visit her family. And though every part of him protested watching her disappear into the sea, he knew she would be safe.

He let out a long breath and turned away from the surf. The wind carried the tang of brine and seaweed, mingled now with something warmer — sunlight on drying sand, and the hush of waves no longer whipped by storm.