Rise of the Sea Witch (Unfortunate Soul Chronicles Book 1) by Stacey Rourke

Author:Stacey Rourke [Rourke, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing
Published: 2017-06-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

A gentle hand on my shoulder shook me awake. “Princess Vanessa? You need to wake up, Your Highness. It’s urgent.”

I woke with a jerk, staring up into kindly face of Loriana … whose son I was currently drooling on. The sun was setting over Atlantica, cloaking the palace in a radiant lilac. Bolting upright, I wiped at the corner of mouth and nudged Alastor. He’d fallen asleep sitting up, his necked craned to the side at an angle sure to cramp.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he snorted, coming to with a start. Eyes bugging, he leapt from my bed, spilling me unceremoniously to the floor. “Mother! I—”

“We will discuss the inappropriateness of your presence here, later.” Pursing her lips, Loriana silenced him with a sideways glance, and she helped me up. “Right now, our girl needs all the love and compassion we have to offer.”

Something lurked behind her eyes that made my stomach knot with dread. Forehead pinched, I urged her with a dip of my head to speak on what was plaguing her.

Gnawing on her lower lip, she laced her wringing hands together. “It’s your father, Princess.” Sorrow foamed and capped each word. “He has taken a turn for the worse. Your presence has been requested. There are murmurs that it is to say your final good-bye.”

Tail failing me, I slumped back against the edge of the bed. Iron-clad dread sank in my gut, anchoring me in that spot. I should have been racing to my father’s side, cradling his hand in both of mine. Yet if I swam from that room, I was entertaining a truth my fragile heart could not comprehend.

Blinking back tears, I tapped my throat with my fingertips.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Loriana shifted uncomfortable, “I have heard of no orders to return your voice as of yet. Tragic as it is, it seems your visit will be a muted one.”

Unable to fathom such cruelty, I drifted from my bed and floated for the door. Those ever present, chilling eyes watched from every dim corner, yet no phantoms materialized. Their presence wasn’t need. I was the ghost in the room; a shadow of the strong and self-assured girl I had worked so hard to become.

“Vanessa,” Alastor reached for me, the tips of his fingers brushing the small of my back, “do you want me to go with you? I can wait outside.”

I didn’t look back, but tilted my chin in his direction and shook my head. If I clung to him now, I would never let go.

Working my tail side to side down the hall, I braced myself for what was to come. There was a high likelihood Father would be covered in healing tonics to ward off infection. The urgency to which I had been summoned warned that such measures were ineffective. Which bode the unsettling question: what would the majestic king look like drained of his valor? Digging my fingernails into the scales along my hips, I prayed to Mother Ocean that the jolt of pain would wake me from this nightmarish existence.

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