Page 75 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
The storm pressed against the stone walls beyond, thunder muttering at a distance, but in this narrow corridor, the world held still. The echoes of running feet faded. Candles flickered, but the light between them stayed steady.
Her breath hitched.
“I need to find Rona,” she signed, torn.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he replied, his voice quieter, rough. “It’s not your fault.”
“But what if I can stop her and I don’t? Then it is my fault.” She looked at him, this man who had accepted her into his life and carved a place in her heart. Tonight was supposed to be spent in his arms. But she couldn’t be selfish, no matter how her heart ached for her to give in.
“Sorcha?” His steady hand on her arm belied the uncertainty in his voice. But when she looked in his eyes, she saw her own desire reflected there.
He leaned down, his thumb on her chin. She tilted her head up, delicious shivers running up her arm. His lips claimed her own before she could think, then all thought was gone in the wonder of his kiss. Warmth spread from his fingertips as they grazed her jawline, sending sparks all through her.
She clung to him, her fingers curling into his jacket. If only this moment could last.
But the storm shook the walls again, and a painting crashed to the floor. She broke off with a gasp. “I have to go.”
Chapter twenty-two
ArickgrippedSorcha’shandas they raced down the corridor, his sword bouncing against his leg. As soon as he turned the handle, the terrace doors slammed open, and a wall of rain drove them back.
“We should take the long way,” he shouted over the howling wind, pointing back along the corridor.
She shook her head. “Faster!”
She was right. He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on her hand, and together they plunged into the storm.
They fought their way onto the open terrace, rain slashing sideways like knives. The covered walkway offered little shelter — just enough to funnel the wind into a howling tunnel that screamed in their ears. Water sheeted from the roof above and poured down in torrents between the stone pillars, turning the flagstones into a slick, treacherous path.
Arick squinted against the downpour, blinking rapidly to keep his eyes clear. Each breath felt like trying to swallow the storm, the air thick with water and the taste of salt and lightning. Sorcha stumbled beside him, her skirts whipping around her legs like angry seaweed. He tightened his grip on her hand and hauled her closer, his other hand skimming the stone railing to keep them both from being tossed into the void below.
She shouldn’t have to face this.The thought stabbed through him as another gust nearly knocked them off their feet. This wasn’t bravery — it was desperation wrapped in love and fury. But when he looked down at her, at the fierce resolve in her eyes, he knew he could no more talk her out of it than he could stop the sea itself.
A flash of lightning split the sky overhead, so bright it burned his vision white for a heartbeat. Thunder cracked immediately after, shaking the walkway beneath their feet. Ahead, the terrace shimmered in the rain, barely visible through the curtain of water.
They pressed on, leaning into the wind.
His feet slipping on the smoother tiles told him they’d reached the mosaic. He forced his eyes open again.
“Still there!” Sorcha pointed to the center of the swirled tile pattern.
The piece of broken mirror lay embedded in the center, its surface dull and pitted, reflecting the storm in fractured shadows. Time had stripped it of its shine, but not its purpose. Arick sighed in relief to see it still in its place. He touched it, but it felt like any other part of the mosaic. Wet. Cold. Empty.
Sorcha dropped to her knees beside the mirror while Arick staggered to the railing. He peered into the dark as he clung to a pillar slick with rain. The sea below was a churning blur, barely visible through the sheets of water. Only the brief flare of lightning revealed the jagged whitecaps far beneath.
Where was Rona?
There was no sign of anyone on the water. No glow of magic, no hint of movement. And even if Rona was singing, he’d never hear it over the constant thunder. He turned back to Sorcha.
A bolt of blinding white exploded overhead, so bright it seared through his eyes. The tower groaned. Stones rained from above as the lighthouse began to collapse in on itself.
“Arick!”
Sorcha’s scream cut through the chaos. He lunged toward the sound, still half-blind, just as the pillar he’d been leaning on splintered and toppled over the edge.
He found her by instinct more than sight, his vision still smeared with afterlight and rain.
“The stairs!” he shouted, gathering her against him. Her fingers grasped his sleeve with reassuring firmness.
