Page 42 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
You were asking how I came to survive the storm despite being tossed from my ship into the raging sea. You were right to question my story; I was hardly forthright with my tale. But allow me to correct that now.
When the storm blew in and the waves washed over my ship, I believed my life to be forfeit. But I was rescued. There was something — someone — under the water with me. Not a dolphin as you believed; a man. Or something like a man. He appeared afraid to come too near to me, yet he ensured I had something to cling to and guided me to safety.
Please, sir. I know how this sounds. I read the fairy tales to my charges. But I know what I saw. Not once did he need to break the surface for air. And he had no legs but rather a tail like a fish. He sang as we moved through the water, a beautiful melody I couldn’t understand. His hair was of copper, his alabaster skin faded to scales of the same color on his torso. I include these details only so you know I am being truthful.
I know I have no position to ask of you anything, yet I find myself unable to conclude this letter without one humble plea: If you find that such beings do exist within our waters, I beg you not to harm them. He had no reason to save my life, yet he was resolute in doing so. Such altruism deserves to be repaid in kind.
Your humble servant,
Miss Nicol Greene
Sorchaslidoffthesettee to sit on the floor. The cooky danced around her, sniffing and nudging her face until he was satisfied with her greeting. He lay down beside her, his head and one paw on her leg.
Ailsa laughed and switched seats so she was facing Sorcha. She asked something, her hands moving in unison to make the signs “dancing” and “enjoy.”
Sorcha nodded eagerly. Dancing was a release, a way to express music through movement.
Ailsa clapped her hands in delight, then signed her response. Sorcha listened and watched, piecing together the words. “I’m glad. Ball for Thomas soon. Celebrate being crowned.”
“He’ll be king?” Sorcha asked.
“Well, no. Officially the next king.”
The cooky pawed for more pets, and Sorcha obliged as she pondered the human government. She supposed it mattered little to her as she’d be returning to the ocean as soon as she could figure out how. But a dance might be nice. Moving through the water, weightless… No. Humans didn’t dance under water, and air didn’t have the same properties. Her shoulders slumped.
“I can’t dance,” she signed.
“I’ll teach you,” Ailsa reassured her.
“No…my feet hurt.” Tears prickled at the backs of her eyes. Not from the pain. She was surprised to find it was the thought of not feeling the escape dancing always brought that had her growing misty-eyed.
A look of mischief crossed Ailsa’s face. “We could find you help.” She glanced pointedly over her shoulder.
Sorcha followed her gaze. Arick.
Oh.
Her ears burned, and she ducked her head, certain that the cooky needed lots of attention immediately. What would dancing with Arick be like? Would he hold her in his arms like she’d seen humans do?
Ailsa’s giggles made her look up again in time to see Arick and Thomas leave the room. She waited for the tightness to form in her chest, but it didn’t come.
Still. It was unlikely to lay dormant the entire time he was gone.
“Where?” she signed, needing to know where the men were going.
Ailsa shrugged and stood. “Follow.”
Sorcha scrambled up, to the delight of the cooky, who scampered to the door and down the hall. She limped after him. Ailsa intertwined their arms, and they stepped out of the room. The two men disappeared into a door at the far end of the hall.
Despite their efforts to keep up, the girls fell behind, but Ailsa knew the castle well enough to not lose them entirely. It reminded Sorcha of the first time she’d met the princess, and she sought for a way to ask Ailsa about her missing necklace. They wound through long halls and twisting stairs, until they reached a flight of stairs that trailed down below the castle.
“Dungeons.” Ailsa signed, but her voice was uncertain. “Damaged, in a storm last year. Flooded. Not used.” After a moment’s hesitation, she led the way down into the darkness.
Sorcha nodded, her lips pressed together to hold back the whimpers of pain each step caused.
She wasn’t sure what “dungeons” meant, but Ailsa clearly wasn’t fond of them. They passed a man holding a spear similar to those used by the mer hunters. He said nothing, merely nodded at the princess. At last they reached the bottom, and Ailsa pushed open the door to reveal a large cavern of rough, gray stone. Voices immediately greeted them.
Arick was speaking, his voice louder than she’d ever heard it. Commanding, even as he asked a question.
