Page 2 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Sorcha, the youngest of those gathered, flinched with every flash.
“Please, Mother,” her raven-haired eldest sister begged as she swam tight circles around the others. “Let me go help Father.”
The largest of the caverns that opened off the grotto belonged to the mermaids. Those who didn’t have jobs or family to look after gathered here to wait out the storms. Tonight, there were seven of them, all anxiously looking for the return of those who had gone with the king.
Their mother shook her head, not lifting her hands from her ears. She lounged on a divan draped with seaweed. Even here, it was higher than the others, denoting her status as queen. “It’s too dangerous, Ciara. Put your shells back.”
Sorcha huddled in the sand with the other mermaids, each of them holding conch shells over their ears. The shells did little more than muffle the sounds, but the echo of the ocean within them disrupted the sonic waves of the human voices. They were uncomfortable, but Sorcha pressed them tightly to her head.
Ciara floated to a stop near her, her expression stubborn. She cast glances at the cave entrance where their father and the others had disappeared when the storm had first started.
“Ciara! Your shells!” Mother snapped.
Reluctantly, Ciara complied, flicking her purple fin.
Sorcha shuddered as her red locks fanned out around her shoulders. She couldn’t imagine taking the risks Ciara did. The older girl had finally convinced their father to let her train with the Watchers, but he had refused to let her help this time.
“It’s too dangerous. If there’s a woman on board, we’ll send for you, but for now, you’ll stay put,” he had told her.
None of the mermaids voiced what they were thinking — that if there was a woman on the ship, by the time one of the Watchers swam back to fetch Ciara and her dolphin, it would be too late.
But going to the surface was far riskier for merfolk. On the surface, there was no ocean to cut through the luring tones of human voices. Nothing to stop a mer from following a man to shore and dying on the beach like a washed-up fish. Or worse.
Father knew the dangers, as did the rest of the Watchers. They wore starfish over their ears and used hand signals to communicate. And they never got too close, using their trained dolphins to nudge bits of the shipwreck to the humans. Occasionally one would drag a human to the shore while the mermen stayed out of sight.
Better for tales of benevolent dolphins to fill their evenings of song than for rumors of merfolk to start up again.
But the storms had arrived early this year, and the humans would insist on sailing anyway. And unless the merfolk wanted their lifeless bodies filling the underwater city, luring sharks to their home, Father and the Watchers would venture out to save the lives of as many as they could.
Another boom echoed through the water. Sorcha couldn’t stop the cry bursting from her, her cousins also crying out at the sound. Ciara pulled her close. Rona, the second oldest, began humming a melody. She raised her pointed nose, so like Mother’s. And like Mother, she was the only one with her hair pinned up.
“Hush, little mermaid, close your eyes,” she sang, motioning for Sorcha to join her.
Mother and some of the others took up the next line, eager for something to do to distract them from the storm. “Let ocean’s whispers lull your sighs.” The melody flowed around them like the silky water of a sun-kissed day.
“Rest in the embrace of the starlit sea.” Ciara’s rich soprano carried through the cavern.
Not content, Rona glared at Sorcha. “Sing!” she signed, her hands twisting around each other with her two fingers extended.
With a sigh, Sorcha began to sing on the last line. “Where dreams and peace forever shall be.”
As they began the next verse, Sorcha let her voice blend with those around her, the tune familiar and comforting. For a moment, the seven voices rose in perfect harmony. She leaned her head against Ciara’s, their air bubbles tumbling together as the song rose and fell. Her eyes drifted shut as she let the song carry away the fear that had gathered around her heart.
A hand grabbed her arm, and she shrieked, a discordant sound that shattered the music.
“You’re not singing properly,” Rona hissed in her ear.
Sorcha pulled her arm free. “Yes, I am,” she insisted. With the spell of the music broken, she could hear the storm again.
“You’re not. Look around.”
Sorcha looked at the others. Despite the calming music, worry still adorned the faces of the women around her, two of her cousins clinging to each other with white-knuckled hands.
“Sing,” Rona told her.
“I can’t,” Sorcha retorted. She knew what Rona wanted, but stubbornness held her back. Why was it always up to her to solve everything?
“Yes, you can. Use your magic.”
