Page 27 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
But Ciara had been. Had Ciara gone searching for her? Had she been caught up in a sinking ship? Why hadn’t Sorcha asked Aunt Maeve for more information about her?
A sob escaped, and she buried her face in her hands.
Strong arms wrapped around her, and she cried as Arick held her.
Theking’searlierrequestto look into the cause of the storms suddenly made sense. The more he spoke to people around the harbor, the more Arick understood why King Craig wanted someone outside his usual circle to investigate.
Now that he had reassured himself that Thomas was okay, with only a minor earache after his ordeal, Arick wanted to speak to everyone who had been on the water during any of the storms.
He’d taken a risk, going to the moors instead of straight to the castle in search of Thomas. But explaining Sorcha’s presence to the guards, not to mention the crowds of nobles who often hung around, would take time he was loath to waste. Thankfully Thomas had remembered their old meeting place — a hillside that could be seen from the prince’s window and easily accessed by one of the back stairs.
Thomas’s signs had come in handy too, as he was able to communicate with the woman far more than Arick had managed so far. Thomas had been born differently, and as he’d grown, some of those differences had become more evident. When he didn’t speak as early as other children, the queen had sought a way to communicate with her bright, happy baby. Arick and Daniel had learned the hand signs as well, incorporating them easily into their play with their cousins. In the years since he’d moved away, however, he’d had little use for them and had forgotten much.
He tried not to mind that her first true smile had been aimed at Thomas and not him.
Thomas had offered to take her back to the castle with him so Arick wouldn’t have to worry about her while he investigated, but a fierce protectiveness had taken over him. He had found her on the beach, and until he knew where she had come from, he would look after her. Something deep inside him compelled him to stay near her.
As he made his way along the docks, talking to all the captains and sailors who would give him the time, he watched her. More often than not, she was watching him in return. Whenever he got too far away, she would fidget and show signs of wanting to go after him.
He stopped at the far end to catch his breath. He must still be tired from the night in the water. A heavenly scent drifted past, and he followed his nose to an old woman with a basket of meat pies.
“How much for two, Mother?” he asked.
The old woman grinned up at him from under her shawl, taking in his well-cut clothing, and held up three fingers. He laughed and handed her four coins. He wrapped the hot pies in his handkerchief and hurried back to Sorcha, delighting in her enjoyment of his favorite snack.
The meeting with the harbormaster was the last on his list for the day. The man confirmed what he’d learned talking to the sailors, but with less fanciful theories than placing the blame on a mythical being.
Even having spent most of his adult life among sailors, he was still amazed at how many believed in the supernatural. As he guided the little pony back up the hill to the castle, he wondered what Sorcha believed. He wished he could communicate better with her.
Her tears, which he could only assume were of relief, had torn at his heart. Had she been on one of the ships that had gone down? Was her family washed up on another beach somewhere, equally lost and afraid?
He’d asked around about whether any foreign ships had been spotted in the harbor, but no one had heard of any, and the harbormaster had none on record.
The castle guards gave him odd looks as he handed off the reins and helped Sorcha down.
Even though she couldn’t understand him, he chatted away as they made their way across the courtyard and through the castle. He was pleased that walking didn’t pain her as much as before, but he still kept his arm firmly around her.
A short man who looked as though something had died in his shoe cut off their progress through the great hall. Arick kicked himself. Councilman Murray was known for being close with MacIsaac, and even more unpleasant.
“Who’s this?” he snapped.
“Murray, this is Lady Sorcha.” He bowed, just enough to be polite. The councilman had forgone the preliminaries of polite society, so he could too.
Murray sniffed. “Never heard of her. Who’s her father?”
Oh, right.He should have remembered that giving her a title would mean she’d be tied to one of the landed families. But she carried herself with such grace he could only assume she was part of the nobility. “She’s from Edeland,” he replied, pulling himself to his full height.
“Hmm,” Murray sneered. “Does Princess Aisla know about yourlady?”
Arick bit his tongue. Responding to the man’s insinuations as to who Sorcha was would only confirm the man’s beliefs, and he was all too aware of the guards, servants, and other nobles who wandered the hall. “We were just on our way to meet her. Do you know whether she’s with the king?”
There. Any within hearing would know that Sorcha was someone worthy of meeting the king.
“You dare to introduce her to your betrothed?”
Arick had a sudden desire to not have to support Sorcha. If his hands had been free, then he could have demonstrated just what he thought of this man. As it was, he bit back his anger and focused on getting out of the situation without causing further damage.
“The princess is my cousin, and a child. I would thank you to remember that, Councilman Murray.”
