“Are you sure?” he asked his cousin, wishing he were wrong.

The other man nodded. “Yeah. Because I look like this” — he gestured to himself — “they don’t think I would make a good king.”

The hurt was evident in his voice.

“They’re wrong, you know,” Arick told him.

Thomas nodded. “I know, but it doesn’t feel good to hear it.”

A flash of lightning revealed his scrunched-up face as he struggled to hold back tears. Arick moved to him and wrapped him in a hug, a fierce sense of protectiveness filling him. Thomas might have been different, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know when people were talking about him. And it certainly didn’t mean he couldn’t fulfill the role he’d been born into.

Lightning rippled across the sky again, casting the two in white light. Arick towered over Thomas, though he was frequently taller than most. They were both stocky, with ruddy-blond curls. The family resemblance faded there, as Thomas’s speckled hazel eyes lifted in the corner while Arick’s crinkled. Arick had sharper features than Thomas, whose rounded face often made people think him younger than his true age of twenty.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Thomas said, his voice thicker than usual.

“Me too.” Guilt pricked at Arick. He nearly hadn’t come. Thomas’s letter couldn’t have arrived at a worse time in Arick’s training, and the summer storms had made the travel difficult.

But now that he was here… Well, he was here. And he’d support his cousin as best he could, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he could do.

Thomas pulled back from the hug, looking at the ground. “They want you to be king instead.”

Arick stared, certain he had heard wrong amid the raging storm. “Me? But I’m not… Why not Princess Ailsa?” Even as he asked the question, another face, another option, crowded in. Daniel should be here, not me. He shoved the thought away.

Thomas splashed at the pooling water with his toe. “They figure you could marry her and that would make it right.”

Arick shuddered. They weren’t direct cousins — their grandfathers had been brothers — but even that was too close a relationship for him to marry Thomas’s younger sister.

Lightning snapped, blinding them. In between the deafening thunder came a loud crack.

The two rushed to the railing that overlooked the sea as more lightning lit up the sky.

A ship bucked on the towering waves, struggling to stay upright. Its mast lay broken across the deck.

Ignoring the rain that stung his eyes, Arick scanned the water for the lifeboats as tiny figures clung to the ship. A small dot headed for the shore with a directness that surprised him. Waves crashed over it, yet the little boat stayed upright.

“The rocks!” Thomas pointed with a shout.

Arick stared in horror. Surely the sailors in the rowboat could see they were headed for the jagged rocks that lined the coast. Why weren’t they turning?

He held his breath as the waves stalled their progress. They had time to turn, to angle away from the waiting jaws of the coastline. Farther into the harbor, they’d have a chance. He glanced at the stairwell, knowing it was impossible for him to reach the shore in time to help them.

The light from the lighthouse washed over them, timed perfectly with a massive wave. The men gave up all semblance of rowing, and instead clung to the sides of the boat.

But it was no use. The wave washed over them, pushing the boat onto the rocks.

Arick pulled Thomas away from the railing. They didn’t need to watch the men die.

Chapter Two

Sorcha 

The soul-piercing crack of the ship’s mast breaking in two sent splinters into the hearts of the merfolk gathered to wait out the storm. Even at that great distance, the cries of the sailors could be heard over the crash of thunder. Muffled by the water, any sound that reached them carried the promise of devastation.

With every bolt of lightning, the bioluminescent carpeting of the ocean floor flashed in response, turning the sea beyond the cavern into a flickering world of wonder.

Sorcha, the youngest of those gathered, flinched with every flash.

“Please, Mother,” the raven-haired eldest begged as she swam tight circles around the others. “Let me go help Father.”

The largest of the caverns that opened off the grotto belonged to the mermaids. Those who didn’t have jobs or family to look after gathered here to wait out the storms. Tonight, there were seven of them, all anxiously looking for the return of those who had gone with the king. 

Their mother shook her head, not lifting her hands from her ears. She lounged on a divan draped with seaweed. Even here, it was higher than the others, denoting her status as queen. “It’s too dangerous, Ciara. Put your shells back.”

Sorcha huddled in the sand with the other mermaids, each of them holding conch shells over their ears. The shells did little more than muffle the sounds, but the echo of the ocean within them disrupted the sonic waves of the human voices. They were uncomfortable, but Sorcha pressed them tightly to her head.

Ciara floated to a stop near her, her expression stubborn. She cast glances at the cave entrance where their father and the others had disappeared when the storm had first started.

“Ciara! Your shells!” Mother snapped. 

Reluctantly, Ciara complied, flicking her purple fin.

Sorcha shuddered as her red locks fanned out around her shoulders. She couldn’t imagine taking the risks Ciara did. The older girl had finally convinced their father to let her train with the Watchers, but he had refused to let her help this time.

“It’s too dangerous. If there’s a woman on board, we’ll send for you, but for now, you’ll stay put,” he had told her. 

None of the mermaids voiced what they were thinking — that if there was a woman on the ship, by the time one of the Watchers swam back to fetch Ciara and her dolphin, it would be too late.

But going to the surface was far riskier for merfolk. On the surface, there was no ocean to cut through the luring tones of human voices. Nothing to stop a mer from following a man to shore and dying on the beach like a washed-up fish. Or worse.

Father knew the dangers, as did the rest of the Watchers. They wore starfish over their ears and used hand signals to communicate. And they never got too close, using their trained dolphins to nudge bits of the shipwreck to the humans. Occasionally one would drag a human to the shore while the mermen stayed out of sight.

Better for tales of benevolent dolphins to fill their evenings of song than for rumors of merfolk to start up again. 

But the storms had arrived early this year, and the humans would insist on sailing anyway. And unless the merfolk wanted their lifeless bodies filling the underwater city, luring sharks to their home, Father and the Watchers would venture out to save the lives of as many as they could.

Another boom echoed through the water. Sorcha couldn’t stop the cry bursting from her, her cousins also crying out at the sound. Ciara pulled her close. Rona, the second oldest, began humming a melody. She raised her pointed nose, so like Mother’s. And like Mother, she was the only one with her hair pinned up.

“Hush, little mermaid, close your eyes,” she sang, motioning for Sorcha to join her.

Mother and some of the others took up the next line, eager for something to do to distract them from the storm. “Let ocean’s whispers lull your sighs.” The melody flowed around them like the silky water of a sun-kissed day.

“Rest in the embrace of the starlit sea,” Ciara’s rich soprano carried through the cavern. 

Not content, Rona glared at Sorcha. Sing! she signed, her hands twisting around each other with her two fingers extended.

With a sigh, Sorcha began to sing on the last line. “Where dreams and peace forever shall be.”

As they began the next verse, Sorcha let her voice blend with those around her, the tune familiar and comforting. For a moment, the seven voices rose in perfect harmony. She leaned her head against Ciara’s, their air bubbles tumbling together as the song rose and fell. Her eyes drifted shut as she let the song carry away the fear that had gathered around her heart.

A hand grabbed her arm, and she shrieked, a discordant sound that shattered the music.

“You’re not singing properly,” Rona hissed in her ear.

Sorcha pulled her arm free. “Yes, I am,” she insisted. With the spell of the music broken, she could hear the storm again.

“You’re not. Look around.”

Sorcha looked at the others. Despite the calming music, worry still adorned the faces of the women around her, two of her cousins clinging to each other with white-knuckled hands.

“Sing,” Rona told her.

“I can’t,” Sorcha retorted. She knew what Rona wanted, but stubbornness held her back. Why was it always up to her to solve everything?

“Yes, you can. Use your magic.”

“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 armband dull against her sunset scales. “If someone I loved had been taken, I’d at least care.”

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.