Page 67 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Arickwantednothingmorethan to scoop Sorcha into his arms and carry her over the rocks, to protect her from pain, to shield her from all he could. But though she leaned into him, frail and trembling, he sensed a deep brittleness in her. One wrong word, one wrong move, and she’d shatter like glass.
And so he supported her quietly, swallowing the words he longed to shout from the foremast. Telling her how much he loved her would have to wait. First, he would have to face the fallout from releasing the merfolk. And tonight was Thomas’s coronation ball. He would be there for his cousin.
And after the ball, before the moon set, he would bring Sorcha back to the water and hold her until the tide took her from his arms.
He hadn’t found a way to break her curse. The knowledge of his failure was a knife through his heart. He couldn’t lose her. He’d already lost Daniel, and this would be so much worse.
Tucking her closer under his arm, he lifted her other hand with his free one, clinging to whatever part of her he could. She glanced up at him, her sapphire-blue eyes wide and shimmering in the early summer sun. How had she claimed his heart so completely in only a few short weeks?
No, he corrected himself. His heart had been hers from the moment she’d first looked at him and trusted him.
They drew near the castle entrance, and he took a steadying breath. As much as he wanted to, they couldn’t hide on the shore all day. Time to face up to what he had done.
The guard nodded to them as she let them pass, and they were immediately enveloped in the bustle of the castle. Despite the early hour, the staff were alight with the preparations for the evening’s festivities. They dodged past a pair of servants juggling a ladder and several table-lengths of fabric, maids scrubbing the floors, and a harried footman struggling to balance a tray of goblets. The sharp scent of vinegar warred with the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchens.
They found no sign of Thomas or his father in the small sitting room nor in the family’s dining room, so they continued toward the bedchambers. Sorcha leaned more heavily on him as they went, and if it weren’t for his own exhaustion, he would have carried her up the steps, but he feared dropping her. The stairs led to a quieter hall, with only a few maids slipping in and out of the guest rooms. A door creaked open behind them, and Arick barely had time to turn before Ailsa descended upon them.
“There you are!” She squeezed Arick before turning to Sorcha, her hands flying as she spoke. “I was so worried about you both! After I convinced the guard to leave his post, he was so concerned about me, he followed me all the way back here, but Mother was waiting and I couldn’t get back.” She swatted Arick’s arm. “Where were you? I expected you to send word hours ago!”
She paused long enough to take in their appearance, her eyes narrowing as she noted their torn and filthy clothing, the dried blood on Arick’s hand, the weariness etched on them both. “What happened? Were you harmed?”
Arick shook his head, his tongue heavy as he sought how to tell her. “We weren’t anticipating the storm to be as bad as it was. Sorcha’s…one of the merfolk was killed.”
Ailsa froze, her hands stilling for once. “Oh.” Her hands moved first, a fist circling tightly against her chest. “I’m so sorry.”
She took a deep breath, meeting Arick’s gaze once more.
“You must both be exhausted. Arick, your room by Thomas’s is still free, and Sorcha can come with me. I’ll order a bath, and you can rest.” With that, she whisked Sorcha back through the door whence she had appeared, supporting the red-haired woman despite being several inches shorter.
They were gone before he could say anything, and his side was suddenly cold where Sorcha had stood for so long. Funny how perfectly she fit against him.
A yawn cracked Arick’s jaw as he contemplated Ailsa’s offer. A bath and a nap would both be sorely welcome, but he ought to first find the king and speak to him. He swayed, undecided, as another door opened, and a noble he recognized from the Edelish court passed by, wrinkling his nose. Although such an expression wasn’t uncommon for the Edelish, Arick surmised his own appearance had much to do with the current derision.
Perhaps today was not the day to look like he’d been pulled out of the sea in a fisher’s net.
He hurried down the hall, passing his room long enough to rap an almost-forgotten rhythm on Thomas’s door, before returning to the bedchamber Ailsa had said was free. If Thomas were there, he’d come.
Arick stumbled through the door and collapsed in a chair, where he forced his boots off. The scent of the sea mingled with his own sweat.
Yes. A bath, then he would tackle the consequences of doing what was right.
Sorchasatonalow stool while Ailsa flitted about the room, gathering items. Servants hurried in and out, lugging buckets of steaming water behind a screen. Sorcha watched it all through a fog, barely responding as Ailsa and a maid with a pleasantly lined face helped Sorcha out of her damp clothing, peeling off her boots and soggy stockings to reveal her pale toes, the skin wrinkly and sore. They gave her privacy to remove her underclothes and climb into the little pool. She sank into the steaming water, which wrapped around her like a hug. The chill clung to her until the heat sank into her bones.
The woman approached and, with gentle hands, massaged flakes into her hair that turned into a sea-foam, fragrant with the scent of the heather-strewn moors. Sorcha rubbed the bubbles between her fingers, wondering distantly if she would vanish as easily as this foam did.
Would Arick try to hold on to her the way she held the foam in her palm? Or would he walk away, leaving her to disappear on the waves with the rising of the sun?
She pressed a hand to her sternum, where the ache so often marked their separation. No, she knew better. He would wait. His own kindness wouldn’t let him walk away. But even more so…the magic had been trying to tell her something for a while, and though she wasn’t sure he even knew, she was sure of it — he cared for her as much as she cared for him.
Strange how comforting that was — to know that she mattered to someone. That someone would miss her. Not just as an extra Healer or as an annoying little sister wanting to tag along, but as her.
Yet…there was no point. In less than a day, she’d be gone. Washed away as though she’d never existed.
Her mind refused to go near that thought. Ailsa and the woman spoke around her, sometimes asking questions, their voices drifting in and out like the waves on the sandy shore. She lifted her arms when prompted, though the movement didn’t feel like hers. The woman scrubbed her skin, but the pressure barely registered. She rose when beckoned to do so, and they wrapped her in a robe as soft as the cooky’s fur, then they tucked her into the bed, where she lay in silence, eyes dry and burning.
She avoided thoughts of Arick, as though they were guarded by a ring of electric eels, poised to sting her if she drifted too close. Instead, she thought of her father. Of her mother and sisters. Of Rona. Of anyone other than Arick.
And then she couldn’t stop thinking of him. The memories came unbidden, precious and sharp. She gathered them jealously, pouring over each one like a pearl.
