Page 64 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Rona ignored her, continuing to repeat the rising litany of words, until the light narrowed its glow into a beam that pinned the lighthouse in its path. The wind keened in answer, almost harmonizing. The hair on her arms lifted.
“Rona!” Sorcha called again, forcing the words past her aching lungs. What was this?
“This is beyond you, little sister,” Rona said, voice sharp with contempt. “Stay in your tide pool, where it’s safe.”
Sorcha climbed closer so she wouldn’t have to shout over the storm. “We freed everyone. The storms can stop.”
“Oh, you innocent little guppy. This was never just about them being captured. The humans need to pay.” Rona raised her hand, and the yellow light pulsed as though trying to escape.
“You have to stop this. Fath—” She choked. “Father’s been killed. The storm… More people are going to be hurt.”
Rona sent her a hard look. “The humans killed Father when they took him. Just let me finish this, and I promise they’ll get what they deserve.”
Sorcha flinched like she’d been slapped. “No,” she breathed. “You can’t.”
Arick. He was still out there —one of them, in her sister’s eyes.
Lightning sparked overhead, spearing toward the lighthouse. Thunder cracked. The cliff groaned. Glass exploded as the beam of hope snapped out.
Sorcha staggered, her foot slipping on the slick rocks.
The ground vanished beneath her.
She hit something hard as the world tilted around her and breath jolted from her lungs.
A wall of water crashed down, swallowing her whole.
She clamped her mouth shut, seeking the oxygen from the water as she always had done.
But she had no gills now.
The swells spun her around, pulling her from shore. Her skirts, so warm and fitting as a human, entangled her legs so she couldn’t kick. Up. Where was up? The sea pressed from every side, turning the world inside out.
Her chest burned. She thrashed in the darkness that should have felt like home, but the sea treated her like an outsider. Unable to breathe, unable to swim, she flailed, sinking deeper to where the storm didn’t reach.
Every sound was muffled, warped. The roar of the waves became a low, pulsing thrum in her ears. Her hair tangled in her face. Her skirts twisted tighter. Salt stung her eyes.
Then a pale shape appeared out of the gloom. She blinked, unsure whether she should trust whatever it was. Struggling to stay upright, she waited as the shape became a mer. The Watcher she had rescued swam near, holding out a bundle of algae. She took the rubbery bladderwrack, pressing the bulbous end to her mouth and sucking the precious air.
Using his hands, he framed the question: “Human or mer?”
“Mer. But human bound,” she signed back.
He nodded slowly, then reached for the end of the strands of algae. She held on tightly as he swam toward the surface. Even though she couldn’t kick, she moved her hips just like she had as a mer and helped propel herself.
The Watcher stayed close until she pulled herself up onto the pillars of stone, gasping. Her limbs trembled as she rolled free of the water.
Then he crossed his fist over his heart, nodded once, and slipped back into the dark.
She pushed herself up on one elbow to scan the vacant shore. Rona had vanished, and her father lay still on the rocks above the lapping waves. Sorcha collapsed to the ground, barely noting that the moon once more lit the shore.
And Arick was still beyond the magic’s reach.
Arickhauledhimselfintothe rowboat as the mermaid held it steady. There was something familiar about her, though he knew they had never met. A fire in her eyes reminded him of Sorcha. She gave him a slight nod, then sank beneath the surf.
The oars were still stowed in the hull, and he lifted them into the oarlocks. His muscles ached as he rowed; he struggled for breath with every stroke.
But the pain drove him onward. He wasn’t a fool. As much as she tried to hide it, any time he and Sorcha were separated and the pain arrived, it was much worse for her than him.
