Page 49 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Yes, she was ready to go home, just not the one he meant. But the inn was better than this tucked-away corner of the castle. She ignored his help and stood on her own, determined not to show him any further weakness.
He hovered by her side as they walked through the castle. She stepped deliberately, clenching her jaw to hide the pain. The little cart was drawn up to the door, and as much as she wanted to pet the pony as usual, she couldn’t bear the thought of the extra steps.
Arick drew closer as she reached the side of the cart, but she refused to glance his way as she pulled herself up, keeping her face turned to hide her sigh of relief as she sat on the bench.
“Sorcha?” he asked, and she shoved aside the thrill that ran through her at the way he said her name. He stepped to the corner of the cart, where she could see him. He said something else, then lifted his fist to his chest and rubbed it in a circle. “I’m sorry.”
Fire rippled through her. How dare he be sorry yet continue to keep the merfolk imprisoned? She lifted her chin and stared straight ahead.
After a moment, he walked around the cart and climbed up beside her. As they drove through the cobblestone streets in silence, he tried to speak to her more than once, but each time, she turned away, refusing to look at him.
As soon as he pulled up by the inn’s door, she stood to get down on her own, but she couldn’t figure out how to do it. It was too far to step, and when she tried to lower herself, her foot tangled in her skirt.
Then Arick was there, his warm hands wrapping around her waist as always. From her first morning on land, he had been there to help her, to show her kindness, to guide her. An ache filled her. Would he be the same if he knew what she was? She turned away as tears filled her eyes.
His hands on her shoulders stopped her. “Sorcha, please.”
She waited, not daring to meet his eyes. He held out his hands, wrists pressed together. Then he crossed his forearms, pulling them apart as he firmly said, “No.” More words followed that she didn’t understand, but the earnest look on his face gave her hope, until she heard the word “storms.”
She turned away from him and limped into the inn. Ignoring Elsbeth, she made her way to the little room and curled up on the bed. Guilt flooded her as she thought about the merfolk held captive, some unable to breathe as the chains kept them out of the water.
How could the humans be so cruel?
What had Arick been trying to say? What did the merfolk have to do with the storms? She sat up abruptly. Surely they didn’t think the merfolk were the cause of the storms, did they? She had seen no evidence of magic among the humans. Did they believe merfolk were powerful enough to control the weather?
She snorted. Her mother was the most powerful of the merfolk, and even she couldn’t do something like that.
Her hand brushed her throat again, searching for her necklace. Despite it being a human trinket, it reminded her of home. Of showing her discoveries to her aunt, something she’d done since she was a child.
A frown crossed her face. What had Aunt Maeve told her? That humans long ago had hidden magic in the precious stones because they couldn’t contain it themselves?
Had Aunt Maeve found such an object? What would human magic combined with a merfolk’s power be like? Would it be enough to control a storm?
Sorcha tried to push the thought aside, but more crowded in. Her aunt being on the surface during the most recent storm. Maeve being late to the infirmary. Not joining the others in the cavern while waiting for the Watchers.
No. Her aunt wouldn’t do such a thing, she was sure of it. No mer would.
But that didn’t change the fact that humans held merfolk captive, and that they would die if not able to breathe underwater.
And as the only merfolk on land, it was her responsibility to save them. Which meant facing Arick once more.
“Elsbeth,whatdoyouknow of magic?” Arick asked as he plunged his hands into the dishwater.
“Magic?” She gave him an odd look as she set a stack of dirty plates on the cupboard beside him. “Magic hasn’t been around for a hundred years, lad.”
“I know, and I’ve only heard the legends. I was just wondering if you remembered something more.”
“I’m not as old as all that, young man.”
“You’re not a day over thirty, and you look even younger,” he declared gallantly. “And I’ve no doubt you’ll live long past the time I’ve taken my final voyage. But…”
“But you still want to know about magic,” she finished for him, a fond smile on her face. “Very well; your flattery has won you points with this old lady.” She dug a clean cloth out of a drawer and began to dry the dishes he’d already washed.
“These days, magic is spoken of with wonder, like it’s beautiful and good. But when I was a child, there were many who refused to hear even the word itself. The stories were told in fear. Those who controlled the magic in the end used it for evil and not good.”
“Do you think all magic is bad, then?”
She nodded at the knife in his hand. “Does the knife control whether you use it to chop a carrot or to harm someone?”
