Page 33 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
“I…yes.” He nodded, but he was far from well. He took a shuddering breath, winching as his lungs protested.
Thomas grabbed his arm, pointing. The younger man’s lips were pressed together to keep words from escaping, but his meaning was clear.
Another mer was shackled to the wall, half out of the water. His pale face held a sheen, and Arick recognized the shallow breaths. He walked closer to the water’s edge. Agony and defiance warred for dominance in the merman’s expression.
“Release him,” Arick hissed. The king must have had his reasons for holding the merfolk prisoner, but torture wasn’t necessary. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees.
“My lord, he tried to escape.” The captain broke his own rule of speaking aloud. The other merfolk that had been watching them dove beneath the water.
“Can he get out?” Arick waved at the cave opening. The shackled merman writhed against his bonds, his fin splashing feebly.
“No, my lord, but…”
“Release him,” Arick panted, dizziness washing over him. His lungs were being ripped from his body, and he felt as though he would be sick.
Beside him, Thomas’s voice cracked as he repeated the order. “Release the merman. He doesn’t need to be in chains!”
Thrashing in the water and strange shouts from the merfolk blocked out all other sound. Arick stumbled toward the door, clutching his side. Guards rushed past as the chaos and cries from the merfolk continued. He fell through the opening and collided with the stone wall. A groan escaped him.
Thomas appeared, his face lined with worry. “A-Arick…can…w-what?” He stumbled over the question.
Arick tossed his arm over Thomas’s shoulder before he fell face-first onto the stairs. “Sorcha,” he managed to say.
He didn’t know why, but everything in him said to return to her.
Each step was agony. His muscles screamed for the oxygen his lungs couldn’t provide. Thomas was a rock, supporting him. Slowly, slowly, the waves of nausea subsided. By the time they reached the passage to the barracks, the pain had dissipated enough for him to start thinking clearly. But the pull in his chest said to keep going up.
Arick glared at the steep stairs, wondering if his legs would even carry him further. Thomas turned to the door.
“No. Up,” Arick told him. Speaking still required more breath than he had to spare.
“But that’s the lighthouse.” Thomas said in confusion.
“Yes.”
Thankfully, Thomas didn’t argue, and they continued their climb. Soon, the ache in his legs exceeded the tightness at his chest.
Light from the tower windows fell across their path, and he breathed in the ocean air, hope filling him. Soon he would see Sorcha, and all would be okay.
Thomas groaned. “Too many stairs.”
With an apology, Arick removed his arm from Thomas’s shoulders, finding he could walk on his own. The curving stairs were easier to traverse single file, and the dizziness faded completely when he moved to the outer wall.
Finally, Arick stepped out of the darkness and onto the edge of the mosaic. His sigh of relief froze in his throat.
“Sorcha!” he cried, stumbling to where she lay prone on the tile floor.
She stirred as he gathered her in his arms.
“Please be okay,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her damp face. Her startling blue eyes blinked up at him.
“Arick,” she whispered.
Chapter nine
“Hadabitofa hurkle-durkle this morning, did you?”
Arick blinked the lingering sleep from his eyes as he emerged from the stairs into the mostly deserted dining room. Elsbeth shook her head at him from a table by the fireplace. Across from her sat Sorcha, who hid a laugh behind her hands. His worry for her, which had plagued him half the night, drifted away at the sight.
