Page 66 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Thesun’searlyraysdid little to disperse the fog that clung to the harbor. Gray light stole across the water, turning dark shadows to hazy shapes. The harbor rocks loomed out of the mist like grave markers. The air was thick with the damp scent of seaweed and salt. In the distance, circling gulls called to each other.
Sorcha paid little mind to the arrival of the day. Her red-rimmed eyes remained fixed on the damp rocks where her father had lain, her throat raw.
The Watchers had taken his body back to Muirin along with the freed merfolk. The king would be given the traditional parting ceremony, and she wouldn’t be there for it. She wouldn’t get to say goodbye to her father, nor apologize to her mother for not being able to save him.
“What day is it?” she asked suddenly, lifting her head from her folded arms.
Arick started a reply, but he hadn’t understood her. He’d appeared beside her sometime in the last hours, silently offering her support.
“The moon. Was it full last night?” This time, she signed as she spoke.
“No, tonight.” His hands bore the marks of the night, covered in scrapes and bruises.
She’d been wrong. Last night hadn’t been her last. The moon’s betrayal stung like saltwater in an open wound. She should have been sea-foam by now — washed away by the waves as the sun kissed the shore.
Now she had to live one more day. A day full of pain knowing her father was gone. A day knowing Arick would never be able to break the curse.
Because it was unbreakable.
She’d held out hope. As much as she’d tried not to, her traitorous heart had refused not to wish it were possible.
But he had risked himself for her. Had helped her at every turn. Had nearly died helping her.
And he’d come back to her.
Yet she was still here. On land, with two feet and no tail.
She stood, unsteady as always, as the shards of glass pierced her feet. Arick joined her, dusting the dirt from his trousers.
If she only had one day left to live, she would spend it finding a way to stop Rona. Whatever she was trying to accomplish wouldn’t save the merfolk. It would only hurt the humans.
And the humans would continue to blame the mer. They’d start a war the mer could not hope to win.
And the rest of her family would die.
Rona’s power came from that strange bracer she wore. But Sorcha couldn’t hope to get it from her — she couldn’t go in the water, and Rona would never come close enough to land to let her take it. Her best option would be to get help. But with Ewan and the other prisoners back in the grotto, Ciara and Maeve would be too busy to come to the surface.
They wouldn’t anyway. Not with Father’s funeral to prepare for. She shivered, the sea’s soft mourning echoing in each retreating wave.
A warm arm wrapped around her, and she sank against Arick’s chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm, and she clung to him lest he vanish like everything else in her life.
“My sister, Rona, is responsible for everything,” she finally confessed. She signed the words with one hand, the other buried in Arick’s shirt, stiff with the dried saltwater. Her eyes burned, her tears locked away.
“I know.” He turned them toward the cliff door, away from the tunnel.
Rona, not Maeve. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief that her aunt wasn’t the one trying to kill the humans Sorcha had grown to care for. But her stomach churned. She should have known it was Rona, with the way she despised humans and called them weak. Where had that hatred come from? The mer generally had no ill will toward the land-dwellers and preferred to keep their presence a secret. And until a few months ago, Rona had been no different.
Something had changed. Where had Rona gotten the bracer? Contained magic like that was a human creation. Had she found it on the seafloor the same way Sorcha had found many of her own treasures? Or in one of the shipwrecks? But none of her curios had ever held hidden magic.
“I’m worried she’s not going to stop,” she signed, her footsteps slowing. “I think she wants something.”
Arick nodded, his arm firm around her. She waited for him to elaborate, the deep lines between his brows indicating he was thinking of something, but he stayed silent.
Sorcha buried her head against him once more. She needed to stop Rona from starting a war with the humans. But she didn’t know how. She wasn’t a Watcher or trained in any sort of battle magic. She was only a Healer.
A poor excuse for a Healer at that. She couldn’t even heal herself from this curse.
And it had led to her father’s death.
