Page 74 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
The guard’s shout rang across the ballroom. A shriek from the violins cut through the swell of startled chatter.
Arick and Thomas surged forward, slipping through the edge of the startled crowd. Across the room, the king was already moving, his expression grim. Several men joined them around the dripping guard, and the king took charge of questioning them.
“Start the music again,” King Craig barked over the rising murmurs, after a brief moment of discussion. “We won’t let a little water ruin the night.” The herald took over the forced cheerfulness of the king and shepherded the partygoers back to the dance floor.
Once the crowd turned back to the dancing, the king moved swiftly. Pages were dispatched with messages. Guards were ordered to the port to secure the ships, others to assess the castle’s defenses, and still more to begin flood barricades.
Thomas turned to his father. “What about the people in the city?”
“Not now, lad.” The king waved him off, focused on ensuring the needed infrastructure was in place to protect the city.
Rebuffed, Thomas hurried out of the ballroom, a stubborn tilt to his jaw. Arick followed on his heels.
“We have to help them,” Thomas said, worry creasing his young face. “The nobles are safe in the castle, but the others have nowhere to go.”
Arick nodded, his heart filled with pride. “We will help. Whatever it takes.”
Withtheballroomdoorsthrown wide, the storm was no longer a distant threat. Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the castle to its foundations. Lightning flickered in the tall windows, illuminating startled faces. Tables rattled, and a tower of sugared pears crashed to the floor.
Many of the guests continued to dance, but an undercurrent of fear grew, as did the lightning outside.
Rona.
She was back.
With no merfolk in the castle, there was nothing to stop her sister from destroying it. She didn’t care about the humans.
Or me.
Sorcha shoved the thought aside and followed the tug in her chest that led to Arick. Gathering her skirts, she hurried up the stairs past the king holding a murmured council.
“Sorcha!”
She turned, breath catching in relief. Arick and Thomas stood in the hall, both wide-eyed but resolute. The cooky stood beside them, his ears perked and tail aloft.
Servants rushed to secure doors that banged open on the wind. Rain streaked the flagstones, puddling in the corners of the hall. Somewhere far above, the groan of shifting stone set the chandelier swaying.
“It’s Rona,” she told them, her hands forming the letters of her sister’s name. She hated how it still felt like a betrayal. “I have to stop her. She’s going to destroy everything — this castle, the city, everyone in it. But I don’t know why.”
Arick looked shocked, then determined. “She’s trying to take down the tower to get the mirror from the mosaic.”
“The mirror in the floor?” Thomas asked.
A memory of white-hot magic flashed through her. “It holds powerful magic. I touched it once, and it…” She struggled for the right word. “…bit me.”
“It bit you?”
“Yes...like fire.” She pointed to the flickering torch on the wall to emphasize her point.
“Oh. Burned!” Thomas said, showing her the sign at the same time.
“If it has magic like that, we can’t let her get it,” Arick agreed. “MacIsaac said it was held in by magic, hence the storms.”
“The townspeople could be hurt. There’s so many houses close to the water,” Thomas interrupted. “I have to help them get to safety.”
“Go,” Arick urged him. They gripped arms, then Thomas raced toward the courtyard, the cooky at his heels.
Then he turned back to Sorcha, entirely focusing on her.
