Page 30 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Arick nodded, pretending not to notice as Thomas turned away with his handkerchief to his face. “They all said the same thing — the storm came out of nowhere. A few injuries, but no one was lost.”
“I’m incredibly relieved to hear that, but doesn’t it seem a bit odd to you?” The king strode closer to the fire, his unlit pipe clamped in his teeth.
“It does, sir.” He paused, wondering whether the king was aware of the rumors that swirled among the townsfolk. “Do you know the last time someone was lost in the Iskarraig Harbor prior to these storms?”
“I do.” The king gave him a hard look.
“Ten years. Except for…” His throat closed, and he couldn’t say it.
The king took the pipe from his mouth to speak, his voice quiet. “Except for the ship your brother was on.”
“Yes sir.”
“Why do you think that is? We’ve had storms, the passage is treacherous, yet all are saved from the depths.” He made large circles in the air with his pipe as he talked.
“The sailors have theories.” Theories that some part of him believed to be true — the part that vaguely remembered the figure that had appeared in the water as the sea had threatened to swallow him.
“What are they?”
He opted for the more believable answer. “Dolphins, sir.”
“Dolphins?” The king let out a bark of laughter. “Have you spoken with anyone who claims to have been rescued by one?”
“There’s one woman I want to visit. She was injured, and something pulled her from the water, but…”
“But what? Spit it out, lad.”
Arick plunged ahead. The king had the right to know what the people believed. “The scuttlebutt says that it wasn’t a dolphin that saved her.”
“Well, is it dolphins, or isn’t it?”
“I don’t know, sir.” The voice he had heard belonged to no sea creature he had ever seen.
The king stopped his pacing and studied Arick’s face. “There’s something you need to see.” He raised his voice. “Hughan!”
The door opened to admit the captain of the king’s guard. His face was passive, yet his eyes darted around the room and his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword until he ascertained that no danger threatened his king. He gave a slight bow. “Sire.”
“Hughan, I want you to take Sir Arick” — the king glanced at his son — “and Thomas to see our…guests.”
Something flickered over the man’s face, but he made no sign of protest. “Yes, sir.”
“Go along with the captain, lads. I’d best return to the council.”
With that, he left, leaving Arick even more unsure of what was expected of him.
Whenthepaindidcome, it was so subtle at first she didn’t notice it. She’d been dozing to the sound of the voices below as the exhaustion of the day caught up with her. The drowsiness shifted as she found herself needing deeper breaths. Then the invisible bands tightened around her chest, and breathing took great concentration.
Sorcha pulled herself to her feet, grasping the edge of the balcony that overlooked the room below. Arick had told her to stay out of sight from the group of arguing people, but the panic that came with the pain drove all thought from her. She had to find him, that was all that mattered.
The room below was empty. No, no, no. How did she miss them leaving?
She stumbled to the door and tripped into the hallway. Daggers bit at her feet with every step, but she had to find Arick. The pull in her chest guided her along the deserted hall. She hesitated at the door to the uneven floor. Without Arick’s help to climb down the steps, she’d surely fall to her death.
No one was around to watch her limping progress, but with each agonizing step, she grew to wish someone would appear to help her. Someone who could find Arick for her.
Did Arick not know that being apart from him was slowly killing her?
The hall ended ahead, and she bit back a sob. The thread kept tugging her forward, and she couldn’t bear the thought of turning back. She staggered against the end of the wall, grasping a knobby bit for support.
