Page 71 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
There he was. The prince Beattie wanted to replace. The cousin Arick had loved his whole life.
He exhaled slowly. Elsbeth’s words wrapped around his heart, tugging him to something more. To the life he’d always longed for: adventure on the open seas.
But a glimpse of Beattie speaking to Lord Murray tore at him. Could he leave Thomas to their machinations?
He didn’t know. But for now, he wanted nothing more than to find Sorcha.
Sorchastaredatherreflection in wonder. The maid, who had finally shared that her name was Joanna, had managed to tame Sorcha’s curls into a design that lifted her hair onto her head in twists, with only a few choice curls falling around her face.
“Thank you,” she said in the human language, drawing her hand from her chin outward at the same time.
Joanna smiled and adjusted one last curl before stepping back to allow Sorcha to admire her reflection in the full-length mirror a moment more.
The gown shimmered with every breath she took, its deep-sapphire silk catching the sunlight and scattering it across the room in tiny stars. The sheer side panels fluttered when she moved, like waves lapping against the shore. She looked like herself — and yet not. Human and mer, all at once.
“Almost perfect,” Ailsa said, a hint of mischief in her voice.
Sorcha shot her a questioning look and the princess stepped forward, holding out something that sparkled in the last of the afternoon sun.
“I found your necklace. I meant to give it back sooner, but it took me a while to find the right ribbon for it.” As always, one of her hands shaped the words as she spoke.
Sorcha gasped and took the pendant gently, clutching it to her heart. Even though the trinket was human-made, it reminded her of home. The silver cage gleamed softly, the sapphire within catching the light.
And the ribbon…
She pointed to the blue and green tartan that formed the crest Ailsa had pinned to her chest. “Same?” she asked softly.
“Same,” Ailsa said, smiling. “Now you carry a piece of both worlds.”
Sorcha nodded, blinking hard. She fastened the necklace around her throat, the cool metal settling like a steady heartbeat. Something whole again. Something hers.
Something that was both human and mer.
Joanna helped them both into dainty slippers that matched their dresses. Sorcha winced as she stepped. Unlike the boots, the flimsy footwear did little to stop the stabbing pain that shot through her feet with every step. But the tight pull in her chest that had lingered the whole afternoon was growing more insistent, so she refused to delay any longer.
The women hurried out of the room and down the carpeted halls.
The corridors were empty.
“We’re not late,” the princess reassured her with a grin. “Everyone else is expected to arrive before us, while we’re to make an entrance within the ballroom proper.”
None of which made sense to Sorcha, but she followed her friend’s lead anyway.
The tightness in her chest eased, alerting her that Arick was near. But the closer they got, the more her hands grew damp and her stomach fluttered.
This was her last night on land and her first human ball.
What if she made a fool of herself?
She nearly stopped to laugh at herself. So what if she made a fool of herself? She’d never see any of these people again.
The thought steadied her. Lightened her steps.
Head held a little higher, she quickened her pace, suddenly eager — eager to see Arick, to feel his arms around her one last time, and to learn what dancing on two legs was really like.
The women paused outside a set of double doors at the prompting of the herald stationed there. As they waited to be announced, Sorcha took in her surroundings with wide eyes — the muted strains of music drifting through the polished wood, the delicate scent of fresh blooms woven into the garlands, the flicker of golden light on polished stone.
Below, in the central hall, a few guests still mingled — and among them stood a tall, broad-shouldered sailor, whose gaze found hers like a beacon.
