Prince of Song & Sea

PAIN washed over Eric in waves, salt sticking to every scratch. Water lapped at his legs, and a bone-deep cold shuddered down his spine. He tried to turn his head and groaned. He couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

The ship! He had been on the ship. A storm, worse than any he had ever weathered, had swept over them faster than lightning. They’d caught fire and crashed, the powder kegs exploding, and he had been thrown into the sea. Eric tried to call out and choked. Each breath stung, the acrid taste of ash prickling across his tongue. His chest ached.

But all of it meant he was alive. He had survived.

A soft hum broke through the pain. It started low and sad, like far-off whale calls. Fingers stroked his face, brushing salt and sand from his sore skin. The melody, the tender touch, became a pinpoint of light in the dark, and he struggled to hold on to it. The gentle voice grew louder and stronger. Sunlight burned through his eyelids. Eric forced his eyes open and gasped.

She was breathtaking, a backlit shadow glittering with seawater. Her features were as distorted as her words, but the hand against his cheek was so tender that he knew she meant no harm. He reached for her, and she eased him back into the sand. A warm, fluttering feeling flowed over him.

Safety, he thought. This was safety.

She must have been strong to drag him from the wreckage and kind, too, to risk her life for his. The sweet lilt of her song filled his head.

She and her voice were the only things between him and death at sea.

And they slipped through his fingers like sand.