Page 84 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
He blinked. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice. She handed him Rona’s bracer, the metal twisted and the gemstone cracked and dull. “I hit the bracer. The light exploded.”
He laughed, the sound echoing around the cavern. “Remind me not to hand you sharp objects when you’re mad.”
She smiled, but the light in her eyes dimmed as he asked, “Where are Ewan and Rona now?”
“I don’t know. They were gone when I woke. And I was more worried about you.”
He brushed a stray hair from her cheek. “I’m here,” he promised her.
She gave a watery smile as she nodded.
“The bond is broken now, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
“You broke it,” she said, “when you sacrificed yourself for me.”
“I’d do it again in an instant.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “But how do we know it won’t come back?”
“We can ask Aunt Maeve,” she said. “I suspect she knows a lot more about the bonds than she’s let on.”
“Later,” he said, his voice rough with something deeper. He wasn’t ready for more answers. Not yet.
“What?” She looked at him, confused by the shift in his tone.
“Kiss me,” he said, breathless. His heart pounded as he waited for her to decide. Their last kiss had been amid chaos and fear. Would she want to again?
She chose him.
She leaned down slowly, the soft red halo of her curls framing her face. Her eyes never left his. He reached up and cupped the side of her neck, drawing her closer, her hair brushing his hand.
Her lips met his, and everything else fell away.
Warmth bloomed through him, brighter and fiercer than the bracer’s light. The cold, the ache, the fear that she might vanish all melted away. There was only her, only this. Her kiss tasted of the sea, of hope and healing and home.
Chapter twenty-four
Thebeachwasnearlydeserted, save for a few gulls wheeling above the foam-streaked shore. In the distance, the broken lighthouse pierced the frothy clouds that dotted the bright-blue sky. Waves lapped against the rocks with a steady rhythm, and the scent of salt and sun-warmed stone hung in the air.
Sorcha stepped behind the rocks, her bare feet splashing through the cool shallows. She untied her outer dress and draped it carefully over one of the guarding stones to keep it dry, her hand lingering on the tartan waist.
She sat on a low rock where the tide crept in, waves lapping over her calves. Clutching the sapphire pendant at her throat, she pictured her underwater home — the coral grotto lit with filtered light, her sisters’ songs weaving through the currents, chasing Ciara past blooming anemones as their fins flashed like sunlight.
The ripple of transformation came, a twist of pain that she braced for. This time, it didn’t overwhelm her. A gasp of breath, a flinch, then it was gone.
Her legs had fused once more into a shimmering sapphire tail, bright and strong beneath the sun-dappled waves.
For a moment, she simply floated, letting the saltwater cradle her. Her tail flicked gently, adjusting to the shift, her gills fluttering open as the sea welcomed her.
She unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it over the rock with the dress. It felt strange to be without clothes again, but she wasn’t cold. Her scales shimmered in the sun, cloaking her in more than enough modesty.
“Are you decent?” called the voice that she loved most.
Slipping fully into the water, she pushed out until she could float freely, her fin stirring the surf. “I am,” she called back.
Arick stepped from rock to rock until he was level with her, balanced with the quiet confidence she adored.
“You’re not sea-foam.” His smile twinkled, relief clear in every line of his face.
