Page 46 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
“Making a weather report can happen any time. We have less than a week until the prince’s coronation, and we all know what needs to be done before that date.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled around the room.
“Well, I don’t, so why don’t you make it plain to me?”
MacIsaac looked around the room, as if someone else would step up, but the others avoided eye contact. “Very well. I’ll be frank. Thomas is not fit to rule the kingdom.”
“PrinceThomas,” Arick bit out, “is as capable as any other to rule.”
“I know how you feel. It pains me to say it, but it is true. Thom— the prince is…simple-minded. He doesn’t understand enough to make the difficult decisions required of a monarch.” MacIsaac looked anything but pained as he spread his hands as if to say,What else could we do?
A barrel-shaped man leveraged himself out of a chair and approached. Lord Beattie smirked. “There’s also the fact that the crown will inevitably fall to you anyway. We’re just skipping a step.”
Arick looked back and forth between them, baffled by what he was hearing. “Why is that?”
“Well, it’s unlikely he will find someone to marry him, and even if he could, do we think him capable of siring children?”
The fire that had been smoldering in his belly since he’d discovered the truth about Sorcha spilled forth.
“How dare you?” Arick’s hands tightened into fists that he barely kept by his sides. “How dare you speak of your prince like that? And to be such cowards? To wait until your king was out of the castle to hold this inhishouse?”
“Now, lad, calm down,” Lord Beattie said. “Your brother —”
“My brother would never have participated in this…thistreason.”Arick spun on his heel, no longer trusting himself to stay in the room with them.
“If you won’t, we’ll find someone else,” MacIsaac called after him.
The slam of the door was Arick’s only reply.
Chapter twelve
Thecryingofgullspulled Sorcha from sleep. Shivering, she sat up, her entire body aching. Smooth pebbles shifted beneath her. Her eyes itched, and she rubbed her face, trying to remember why she was on the shore alone.
Her aunt. Arick. The merfolk.
She twisted around in search of the tunnel. The tide had come in while she slept, hiding the treacherous pathway she’d used. She rubbed her chest, the familiar ache telling her Arick wasn’t close by. She had a vague memory that he’d been there. Had he seen Maeve?
At any rate, he hadn’t pieced together yet that she was a mermaid, or else she’d be in the dungeons with the others.
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them as she stared out to sea. The gray ocean showed no sign of the intricate life that swirled beneath the waves. A steady breeze carried the spray over her, mingling with the tears that fell anew.
Her thoughts churned as she watched the uneasy ocean. Why were the humans taking merfolk prisoner? They could have easily used their siren voices to lure them onto land, but they’d had the decency not to do that. But what was the point?
Arick was convinced the storms were magical. Did he think the merfolk were behind them? She could almost understand that then.
She shifted, the hard rocks beneath her digging into her legs, but she wasn’t ready to move yet.
If someone from Muirin was causing the storms, who was it? Aunt Maeve came to mind. No, that was all wrong. Maeve only ever used her magic to heal people. She wouldn’t cause harm — would she even know how?
A cold shudder rippled through her, and she reluctantly got to her feet. As much as she didn’t want to, she needed to find Arick. Despite what she’d learned about him, he was still the only one who could break her curse and save her from inevitable death.
The uneven shore made walking difficult, and she stumbled with each step. The ever-persistent daggers added to her struggles.
“Sorcha!”
She looked up to see Thomas waving at her, his round, youthful face pinched in worry. The cooky trotted over the rocks to greet her, his tail wagging in delight. Thomas offered his arm as he joined her.
“Cold?” he asked, using a sign she was familiar with.
