Page 40 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
He shook off the thought and pulled a chair out from the table. Elsbeth gave him a knowing look, but he pretended not to see it. Sorcha was there, safe, and it was only his foolish brain thinking such outrageous thoughts. He sneaked a glance at her. Her hands were wrapped around the teacup, but the laughter that had lit up her face moments ago was gone. Now she looked sad, alone. He flexed his hand, restraining himself from reaching out to her.
He stood abruptly.
“Alright there, lad?” Elsbeth asked, the creaking of her rocking chair keeping time with her clacking needles.
“Aye. But these storms… I don’t know what I’m going to do about them.” He set his tea down, then picked it up again.
“Are you the Creator, then?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then there’s not much you can do, is there?”
He blinked at her. She was right, of course, but…
“The king has asked me to find out what’s causing them.” He lowered his voice, even though Sorcha couldn’t understand them.
“Ah, so he’s finally realized there’s something unnatural about the storms.”
Arick took a slow drink as he tried to decipher the contradiction in Elsbeth’s words.
“The Creator might be allowing the anomaly, but that still doesn’t make it your fault, lad,” she explained. “Unless you’re the one causing the storms?”
He let the smile she was angling for quirk the side of his mouth. “I am thankful no more have been lost recently.”
“Do you think that will last?”
“No. It’s a blessing, but the storms are getting worse.”
Elsbeth nodded. “Then I suggest you go get some rest and figure out what you need to do tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure what else I can do,” he admitted.
“Maybe you need to start at the beginning and look harder.”
They lapsed into a shared silence for a time as the fire crackled in determined defiance of the storm raging outside.
Sorcha was asleep, her cheek propped up on her hand. After a whispered word from Elsbeth, he gathered her in his arms, careful not to wake her. He carried her to her room behind the kitchen, amazed at how holding her had become so natural over the past short days. Glancing down, he could see her damp lashes resting on her pale cheeks. Had she been crying? He was a cad for not noticing.
He set her down gently on the bed and tucked a blanket over her.
“Good night, Sorcha,” he whispered, her name a caress on his lips. Climbing the stairs to his own room, he couldn’t shake the cold that replaced her warmth.
Chapter eleven
Arickawokewiththedawn, the soft gray light creeping around his curtains. Worry about what might have happened overnight drove him as he hurried into his breeches and laced up his shirt before slipping down the back stairs. Outside, fog drifted over the water, curling around him. The water was still. Waves lapped against the pier as if apologizing for making a disturbance. He sighed, letting his concerns slip from his shoulders.
He didn’t go far; the pain that came when he was too far from Sorcha would surely wake her up. Small bits of debris littered the docks, but he could see no sign of damage to any of the ships.
The world around him was coming to life with the sounds of fishermen readying their ships for the day. Someone whistled a jaunty tune, and a dog barked in the distance.
A normal day.
He heaved a sigh and turned back to the inn. Elsbeth’s words from the night before clung to him like the mist beading on his jacket. He needed to go back to the beginning and find out when the unnatural storms had started.
The inn came into view as he rounded the corner, and he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. Peering around the corner as though waiting for him was Sorcha. No pain drew shadows over her blue eyes, and he didn’t think it was wishful thinking on his part that she looked pleased to see him.
“Good morning,” he said, offering his arm.
