Page 85 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
“I’m not. You’re stuck with me on land.”
He looked out to the open harbor, the calm waves belying the civilization that lay beneath. “Just for the day, right?”
She smiled at his anxiousness. “I’ll be back by sundown,” she reassured him.
“I’ll be waiting,” he promised in return.
She gazed up at him, memorizing the curve of his smile, the way the sun gilded his ruddy curls, the hazel eyes that always made her feel seen.
She drifted back into deeper water, resisting the tug to swim closer. To kiss him. To stay.
But first, she needed to go home.
He stood tall on the uneven stones, legs braced wide for balance, watching her with a look that warmed her even through the chill of the tide.
She struck out for the open harbor, her body remembering the rhythm of the sea, the effortless grace of swimming with the current. Each movement came naturally, as if she’d never left.
She turned for one last glimpse of Arick. He stood on the rocks, still watching. She lifted a hand in farewell. He waved back.
Then she dove beneath the surface.
The cliff by the castle would have been a shorter route to the grotto, but she couldn’t bear to return there, not after all that had happened. Besides, the king’s guards were crawling over the wreckage, investigating the events of the night and inspecting the foundation for cracks.
Instead, she’d chosen the beach where her legs had first taken shape, where her life had first split in two.
Where Arick had found her.
Her journey this time was far different than the one she’d made that stormy night. The sea was calm, the sky above bright with morning. No shipwreck, no howling winds, no people in the water.
She slowed as she neared the grotto entrance. She’d left in anger, tired of chasing expectations she could never meet.
Rescuing Arick had more than proven that she was capable of so much more. And though she regretted the anger, she couldn’t imagine what would have happened to Arick had she not been on the surface in that storm, if Thomas and the cooky hadn’t pointed her to him.
With a deep breath, she crossed one arm over her chest and nodded to the Watcher at the gate. Strands of black seaweed hung from his spear in solemn respect for her father, the fallen leader of the Watchers.
The grotto was hushed, the usual choral of voices subdued. Merfolk went about their business, their movements restrained.
Then came a cry of welcome, and Sorcha was swept into Ciara’s embrace. “You came back!”
“Just for a visit,” Sorcha said, the hug grounding her more than she expected. “I have a message for Mother from the human king.”
Ciara pulled back, blinking at her. “But you’re a mer again.”
Sorcha straightened the tartan ribbon around her neck. “Somehow, I’m able to change.” She paused, giving her sister a deep look. “How are you? Tell me everything that’s happened.”
Ciara hesitated, glancing around at the other merfolk weaving through the grotto. “Let’s swim a little. It’s quieter near the kelp beds.”
Sorcha nodded, and the two of them slipped through the water together, gliding past coral shelves and waving kelp.
Only when the sounds of the main grotto faded did Ciara speak again, her voice low and tight with emotion.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” Ciara said softly. “A number of us were on the surface last night as the storm started, ensuring there were no humans or other dangers. As it worsened, we were ordered to fall back. But that’s when…”
She paused, her voice catching. Her gaze found Sorcha’s, pleading for confirmation. “It was them, wasn’t it?”
Sorcha nodded, unable to voice the truth any more than Ciara could.
“I saw Rona and Ewan,” Ciara whispered. “They entered the cave beneath the castle. They had…magic. Human magic.” Her eyes fell to Sorcha’s pendant.
