Page 137 of Soulgazer

“I’ll sort it out.”

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For four days, we sail without breaking. A storm comes to sweep us off course after the first day passes. By the third, we’re back to chasing the line where the sky meets the sea, and Muireal’s constellation edges closer to the center. She seems so lonely without her moon.

Gods.I thought I understood loneliness before.

But Faolan is a man possessed. He avoids stillness, most especially if it’s shared with me. His smiles are fast but his feet faster as he jokes and slips free of conversation or my touch like it’s a noose, seeing to tasks along the ship. I sleep alone and wake alone, and it’s only after the second dawn I learn that Faolan strung a hammock between the mast and ship’s railing, keen to keep an eye outat all hours and dive into whatever needs to be done. I remind myself it doesn’t matter; the Wolf was never going to be mine.

And all the while, Maccus’s fleet haunts our horizon.

The old rhythms of song and laughter on the deck are gone, replaced with fraught conversation and skirmishes over stupid asides. Glances are cast with wariness at first, then fear the more my magic grows—and itisgrowing. Our one reassurance that this path to the island is true. For the closer we get, the more thatpullof it threatens to undo me at the seams.

My skin ripens until it’s ready to split with the humming in my veins. The crew’s desires brush against my mind even without touching—their frustrations, annoyances, and wounds. I can’t read their thoughts exactly, but it’s invasive all the same, leaving me just as tangled inside as the hours drag on.

So I avoid them too. I take to following my old rules, not daring to touch another person, or the bone ring either.

Perhaps the day is coming when even that much control will be lost to me.

Perhaps I will long for the days when I could hide.

But there is no stopping this.

Soon, the isle of the lost will rise.

Fifty-Two

“Stop.” The words are out of my mouth before I’m fully awake, tumbling from the pile of sails I’d slept on as lightning heat licks down my spine. I manage a single deep breath from the ground, and then I shout as loud as I can manage. “Stop the ship!”

Brona runs up, and two other pairs of feet follow. “We’re not to the mainland yet, Saoirse. It should be dead center, shouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know, but—” I double over as the humming grows too intense, clenching every muscle until a whimper tears free of my throat. “No. It’s here. We have to stophere.”

There is quiet for only a second, and then Faolan kneels before me. It’s the first time he’s met my eyes in days; I hate that it’s when I’m weak and vulnerable. “Maccus is barely a league behind us. We can’t afford a mistake here.”

“I—” Another wave, strong enough to force tears into my eyes. “I’m not mistaken.”

“What’s this?” Kiara walks up, half-dressed, with crinkles stretched across her cheek as though she’s just rolled out of bed.

“The island—Saoirse says it’s near.”

“How the feck can she tell? It’s already dusk.” Kiara glances toa sky that’s gone hazy purple, but Faolan looks at me again and finally offers his gloved hand.

“A bit of trust, Kiara?” The words are meant to sound clever, but for the first time I see he’s as worn through as the rest of us. Possibly more. I’ve never seen such shadows beneath his eyes, his skin stretched tight over bone—and his hand trembles where he extends it.

Shite. How many days, exactly, have passed since he told me? I try to count backward, but he must read the question on my face because his smile is small and strained as he takes my elbow and lifts me to my feet.

“Saoirse…”

“It’s today. Isn’t it?”

He nods, scratching the back of his neck. “Aye. I reckon I have until midnight, since that’s about when it all happened.”

“Faolan—”

“We’ve plenty of time to sort it out, but I…brought this along.” He dips a hand in his pocket, flashing me the half-filled vial of water that healed my hand. “Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

I reach for his face, until I remember the way he avoided my touch. I can’t be angry, though. The magic is too strong. I start to draw my hand back, but he steps closer. Hesitates, and then pulls my palm up to his cheek, allowing me to see him for what he is beneath the legend. Beneath even the man.

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