Page 70 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Arick accepted a goblet of cordial from a passing server out of habit, but the scent turned his stomach.
He was expected to smile. To dance. To make conversation.
But all he wanted was to find Sorcha.
And still Beattie’s words echoed:Wouldn’t it be kinder if you stepped in?
He straightened his shoulders and wove through the crowd, trying not to look like a man with a decision weighing down every step.
“That’s a long face to be wearin’ at a party, lad.”
The familiar voice cut through the din like a warm fire on a stormy night. Arick turned, his lips tugging into a smile. “Elsbeth! You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here,” she said, wrapping him in a hug that smelled of tea and cinnamon. “I might only be an innkeeper, but I still remember Craig in his nappies long before he became king.” She drew back, peering up at him. “But tell me what’s bothering you. Is it Sorcha?”
“No, no. She’s well. There was…a lot. But she’s with Ailsa now, getting ready together.” Now was not the time to explain all that had happened the previous night.
She waited for him to continue, and he took a deep breath, wondering how much to tell her. But Elsbeth had been the grandmother he’d never had, being far more approachable than his own socialite mother. As a child, he’d never been able to keep anything from her. And now, with everything weighing on him, he found himself wanting her counsel more than ever. He drew her to the side and into a concealed alcove, where they wouldn’t be overheard. “It’s Thomas…well, not him exactly. But the council.” He rubbed his neck, unsure how to say it aloud. “They want Thomas to abdicate his position as heir to me.”
Her brows rose, then drew together as her tone turned probing. “And you’re considering this?”
“No! I mean, yes. Maybe?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You’d best explain yourself, then.” Her voice held a hint of censure, softened by concern. “You know how much he looks up to you, but he’s also a good prince.”
Arick winced. “I know. The speech the other night was a disaster. Thomas did a decent job, all things considered, but the council ripped him to shreds. Then MacIsaac and his lot laughed the whole thing out of consideration.” He looked away, jaw tightening. “You should have seen Thomas.”
Elsbeth’s tone gentled. “And you think taking his place will protect him from all this?”
Why did Beattie’s argument feel like logic but Elsbeth’s make it sound like betrayal? The conflict churned in his gut. Arick groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face, caught between guilt and duty.
“If you do take this role, how will you feel in two years? Five? Ten?” Elsbeth’s voice was gentle, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Will you be satisfied staying in one place? Holding meetings? Playing politics?”
Arick shifted, the question twisting in his chest. “I…I don’t know.” He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his sleeve. “Daniel would have been perfect for this. He always knew what was expected of him.” The words caught unexpectedly in his throat.
Elsbeth’s eyes softened. “Aye, Daniel was a fine lad. But he was a homebody, through and through. He liked routine. Found comfort in predictability. You” — she poked him lightly in the chest — “you were never made for that. From the moment you could walk, you were trying to climb the stables or sneak off to the docks.”
Arick huffed a short laugh, but it held no real humor. He sipped the cordial, his throat dry.
She stepped back to look him over. “You’re not like your brother, lad. And that’s no failing. Your heart doesn’t belong to stone walls and council seats. You’re made for adventure. For wildness. Which is exactly what someone in love with a mermaid ought to be.”
He choked on his drink. “How…how did you know?”
Elsbeth gave him a sly look. “Besides the fact you left the book open on my table?”
He paused his attempts to clean his sleeve to give her a chagrined look. “I should have cleaned up. I’m sorry.”
She waved his apology aside. “I already knew.”
“But how?” He hadn’t figured it out on his own.
Elsbeth’s smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “She speaks the Old Tongue. And she watches you like you hung the stars.”
“I knew you understood her!” His heart did a funny little jig at Elsbeth’s words. Did Sorcha love him in return?
She shook her head. “No, but it’s not the first time I’ve heard it spoken.”
The skirl of bagpipes echoed through the hall, quieting the hum of conversation. Arick and Elsbeth turned as the herald stepped forward to announce the opening of the ball. Thomas stood beside the king, with Cookie leaning against his knee. The guest of honor was resplendent in his formal attire, which matched the blue and green tartan that adorned the hall, but his hair already showed signs of him being unable to keep from mussing it up.
