Page 7 of Soulgazer

Da’s chin tilts up as Rí Maccus walks away, shadows clinging like a cape. Beside him, I see Mam for the first time since Da unlocked my cabin door this morning to let me out, standing just as she’s taught me my whole life—posture straight, eyes downcast, hands folded serenely in front of her. She looks like she could break with a stiff wind, her collarbone forming sharp peaks below her throat.

She won’t look at me.

I reach out before I quite know what I’m doing, the tips of my fingers barely skimming her sleeve. “Mam, please don’t let him—”

A hand clamps around my arm and I stop a second too late. Da’s grip is iron and ice, drawing me up short as pain echoes up my shoulder and out of my lips in a hiss. It is nothing compared to the fury his touch unspools inside me. His voice comes low at my ear, any hint of charm gone with the Stone King.

“You dare to ask for mercy? Itoldyou to find me as soon as the dancing had begun.”

“N-no. Yes. Da, please—”

His eyes are bottomless and cold, like the cursed well behind my old cottage that sings after it storms. My throat runs dry, fracturing my voice into nothing as his hand digs into my bone.

“You lost the right to call me that the day you took my son.”

Three

I didn’t mean for Conal to die.

The three of us were racing across the beach, rare sunlight drinking up our winter-pale skin. Conal was the first to leap into the water, clothes flying off behind him. Aidan was next, teasing me for my slowness—never mind that at fifteen, my legs had widened whereas his grew long. I was last, rushing to unravel the laces of my new gown because at any moment, they could lose interest or Da could steal Conal away for lessons and Aidan for training.

The amulet broke as I pulled the gown free.

I was never supposed to be without it. The last time I’d tried, Mam told me I brought on her miscarriage—but Conal always said she was weak in those days, passing hours with the healer before I ever touched her belly. And Aidan swore he used to hold me often as a wee one, bearing no consequence.

I believed them. Iwantedto believe them.

So when that amulet split upon the rocks, I did not hesitate to rush into the water and seize my brothers’ hands.

Only when the vision landed like a blow to my gut did I realize what I’d done.

Power drove me to my knees, vomit climbing up my throat asthe sea and sky swapped places. I heard someone scream, deep in my mind. Saw the body floating on the waves, my mother wailing as she clutched their dark curls to her chest. And even after the curse released me, gasping as my still-living brothers let go of my hands to dive, Iknewthat if we all went into the water, only two of us would come out alive.

I knew, and yet I could do nothing because Mam had been telling the truth.

It wasIwho brought death to our door.

Da releases me and I bow my head, free hand coiled tight within my wine-sodden skirts. Where he gripped my arm, four feverish lines mark the flesh.

“Clean yourself up, then come meet us at the pavilion.”

“How will I find—”

“Have you grown simple? Follow the flags.” A sharp gesture turns me toward a row of wooden stakes driven into the earth, each bearing a sigil for the island it represents. Together, they form a crescent from one end of the beach to the next, broken only by a platform built several lengths higher than the earth. It is there I spot the crowns.

My brothers used to tell me what it was like, when the Ring of Stars collected together. Half a dozen kings and queens, each wearing a diadem fashioned from the elements of their home isle. Crafted of molten stardust, twirling coral vines, or ever-frozen icicles shaped from Mount Iolair’s highest peak, the crowns are a wonder only the Daonnaí’s descendants are permitted to enjoy.

“We’ll take your betrothal to the Ring of Stars for approval and announce it before the first fire’s gone to ash.” Da’s voice bends in the middle, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s because he’s smiling. “If all goes well, Saoirse, you’ll be wed in two days’ time.”

It takes only three seconds of strained silence to realize he wantsme to thank him. But my tongue has gone thick, useless in my mouth. I’m powerless to do anything but stare at those turning constellations on the pavilion, failing to imagine a crown of stone upon my head.

Da shifts, then straightens his collar into a sharp point, beckoning once to my mother, who falls neatly into line. “Don’t be long.”

I touch the amulet where it lies below my collarbone as my parents walk away, tracing those three pale spirals to the sharp point at their center. Within seconds I am bleeding again, but blessedly numb. A small price to pay for escaping madness or death.

Nearly two decades have passed since the day I was cursed and Da presented me with the first amulet. Carved into sunstones, then dipped into our late goddess Eabha’s holy well, the amulets were designed by his apothecary to protect me—a safeguard against the magic’s effect. Each would last a full moon’s cycle, requiring only a drop or two of blood to work.

But I could always tell when their protection wore thin.

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