Page 70 of Soulgazer


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Then the fog births a ship, as sleek and silver as the end of a blade.

The crew leap into frenzied action as Tavin barks orders and Faolan curses a blue streak, jumping down from the upper deck to head back for his cabin. Nessa beats him to it. She has his sword in hand and is strapping it firmly around his waist as Faolan tests his injured arm, bending it back and forth and wincing with each movement.

“You can’t fight, can you?”

I nearly leap out of my skin at Brona’s words, air rushing into my lungs in a way that makes me wonder if I’ve ever truly breathed at all. “No.”

“Right.” Brona glances over her shoulder at the fast-approaching ship, then ducks down to pull a dagger free from its sheath at her ankle. “Take this and hold the handle tight so you don’t drop it.”

She presses it into my hand until my fingers curl over the leather-wrapped handle. It’s heavier than expected, but I supposethat’s the point—heavy enough to sink through flesh and bone. My stomach turns.

Brona snaps her fingers in front of my nose. “Go for the groin, gut, below the arms, or throat. All that fails? Shove your fingers in their eyes and pray they don’t return the favor.”

The images painted across my mind will haunt me forever, but already I’m nodding along, my feet taking me backward until a gloved hand drops to my shoulder, too familiar to startle me now.

“To my cabin, Saoirse.” Faolan strokes my cheek with the back of his finger. My breath hitches and does not release. “Latch the door, bar it with a chest if you must—and for feck’s sake don’t rearrange things again.” The smile in Faolan’s voice is jarring against the flurry around us, but as I face him the sight grounds me to the deck.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Hush. Maccus has had it in for me for years. This was just bad timing.” Faolan tips his head to the side, and then with a cheeky smile, he unwinds the scarf and wraps it around my neck, tying it lightly in front. “Keep this safe for me, would you? I’d hate to get blood all over it.”

I stare at him, one hand weighted down by the dagger, the other tangled up in soft wool. It’s as though my entire world tilts before he catches the back of my neck and kisses my brow.

“Go on.” With a final sweep of his hand down my back, he’s gone.

I waste no more time in getting below.

Twenty-Six

I hardly recognize the woman reflected in the oval of polished bronze. Her hair is dark and tangled, save for the long fringe that barely conceals a face pale with fear. She’s wearing a dress, but her body holds it different beneath—filling the fabric in paths shaped by someone else’s hands. A dagger rests in one of her own.

I blink, and her eyes change color. Haunted and deep, shifting between shades of blue, green, gray, brown. My skin pulls taut with the tattoo’s restraint, stretched beneath threads of cold so intense they burn. The curse, which was already drawn from its hiding place by Faolan’s touches before, sings across my skin in response to the atmosphere above.

The magic, like me, wants to be set free.

Feet pound the boards above my head, and I tear my gaze from the mirror. Watch the cracks overhead for the sign of dripping blood. How soon until the dying starts? Until I hear the screams of those I’ve traveled with for weeks? My breath trembles as it pours free, fogging the flat of the blade in my hand. I nearly fling it across the room.

Stars above—I’m not a fighter.

Don’t fight it, love. Let go.

The words resonate through me so suddenly, I fumble the dagger and have to scramble back as it sinks into the ground.

Humming. The air is humming. I’d thought it was the tension of the fight, but as metal sings through the wood above my head, Iknowit’s an otherworldly sound. Vibrating at my temples. Sliding unnaturally across my jaw.

Pain radiates from the caipín baís tattoo as I snatch my dagger from the ground.

“What do you want?!”

No response comes. And I’m sick of it.

“I didn’t ask for this power!” My voice rises, holding more bite than I’ve ever allowed before as I whirl around—stupid and pointless, like the god who cursed me might be looming behind Faolan’s bed. A sob fights with a scream in my throat as my skull tightens. Gods, I’ve never hated myself more.

“I’ve never wanted it. I can’t use it for anything good. So why—”

The pain brings me to my knees. Blurring my vision, plucking the breath from my very lungs. A cry is not enough to release the pressure behind my eyes—though I dig the heel of my hand against them. Something flashes across my eyelids. Bright. Horrific. I don’t want to see.

“Please—please make it stop!”