Page 3 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
“I won’t have enough left to heal the men later if I do.”
Ciara leaned around Sorcha and pushed Rona away. “Leave her alone.”
“She can heal them, but she won’t. They’re worried and scared.”
“And her singing won’t fix that.”
Around them, the song faltered as the bickering sisters continued. Sorcha shrank away from them as much as she could.
“Are you saying you aren’t worried about your fiancé?” Rona demanded.
A stricken look flashed across Ciara’s face. “Of course I am. But magic won’t take that away, and I wouldn’t want it to either.”
Rona sat back with a huff. She crossed her arms, her black bracer dull against her sunset scales. “If someone I loved had been taken, I’d at leastcare.”
Ciara swirled in the water, looking ready to slap Rona. Sorcha stared at her sister in horror — how could she say such a thing?
With a choking sob, Ciara sped out of the cavern, her tail raising clouds of sand in her wake. Sorcha stared after her, wondering if she should follow.
Mother floated over and put her arms around the two remaining sisters. “Come, girls. Let us sing together and chase away these worries that cling like barnacles.”
Sorcha let herself join the circle again. This time, she let a hint of her magic seep into her voice, earning her a smug look from Rona. If it weren’t for the approving nod from Mother, she might have stopped.
It felt good to be useful, to do something to assuage the oppressive atmosphere that filled the cavern each time there was a storm. But it didn’t stop her from hearing the roaring waves and desperate cries from far above grow worse.
Or maybe she was only imagining them.
Chapter two
Themorningbrokebrightand clear, as though the sky were apologizing for the storms of the night. Arick enjoyed his stroll along the cobblestone streets of the waking city as he made his way to the castle. He followed the harbor road, keeping an ear open for any reports of lost ships, but any grieving was being done behind closed doors.
The steward showed him directly to the king’s private sitting room, where the barrel-chested king was washing down his breakfast with a massive pot of tea. Thomas grinned up at him from the opposite side of the table, his dog at his feet.
“Arick, lad! Thomas said you’d arrived. Beat the storms. Why aren’t you staying at the castle?” He motioned for Arick to sit down and slurped his tea. “Bring another cup for the lad,” he shouted at the steward.
Arick smiled at his uncle’s exuberance. As a child, he’d loved hearing him recount tales of battles and bravery. “Hullo, Uncle Craig. I wanted the chance to visit with Elsbeth at the inn,” he said in response to the king’s question.
“Ah, yes, and how is herself?”
“I fear her age is catching up to her, not that she’d let me see.” He joined them at the table and accepted a cup of tea with a nod of thanks.
“No, of course not. Let me know if she needs anything.”
“I will, thank you,” Arick said. Elsbeth was like a grandmother to him, and it saddened him to notice the faint signs of aging on her face and in her mannerisms.
“Now that you’re here, I’ve got a task for you,” the king said, around a bite of breakfast, ignoring the crumbs that fell on his doublet.
“Of course, sir,” Arick responded, curious. Thomas squirmed.
“We’re planning a little something different for Thomas’s birthday in two days. Now that you’re ready to become a naval officer, I think this is right in your wheelhouse.”
Arick nodded, wondering what his uncle meant by that. But more, he was wondering why Thomas wouldn’t look at him.
The king outlined more about the party, reassuring Arick that he wasn’t in charge of counting spoons or ordering hors d’oeuvres.
“Thomas will take you to the, uh…venue. Are you ready to go, Thomas?”
“I need my coat.” Thomas shoved his seat back.
