Page 16 of Godsbane
My throat is thick as I force out my reply. “Not …” I clear my throat, “intimately.”
“Hold it just above the throat.”
His scent envelopes me and I can hardly focus this close to him. Murphy smells like a mixture of salinity and worn leather. Like the old tomes in the small seaside cottage of my youth. My hand slides against the fish’s slippery skin as I try to follow his instructions.
“Take the tip of your knife and insert it here.” He grabs my wrist, directing the blade to the underside of the fish’s gill. At the slightest touch of his hand, my magic jumps. It skitters, erratic and frantic, echoing my thundering heartbeat.
Captain Murphy leans in closer, bracketing my body with his. His tattoo sears into my back like a brand, his exposed skin scorching the ink-covered scar across my spine.
I’ve never been able to put into words what it felt like when the sea beast touched me all those years ago, the electricity that sparked in my chest and lit up my bones. I’ve never felt anything close to it again … until now.
Wild magic courses through me. I’m wholly consumed by its allure, a deadly siren song tempting me to forget.
Forget that my magic must stay hidden.
Forget the foretelling of our deaths.
Murphy’s nose scrapes the shell of my ear, his body tense behind me. Every fiber of my being yearns to lean in closer to him and I’m close to giving in when I hear it.
Another distinctive hoot of an owl snaps me back into reality and forces me to remember.
Remember who I am.
Remember who he is.
Remember what this isn’t.
I jerk away from him, forgetting completely about the sharp blade still in my grasp that nicks my palm. Bright red blood bubbles up from the wound.
The captain is up and digging through his saddlebag before I can yell the curse currently on my lips.
What in the gods’ names possessed me just now? What was that feeling … and can I get more of it? It’s a traitorous thought and I banish it the moment it crosses my mind.
“Give me your hand,” he commands, dropping a small medical kit on the rock.
Before I can protest, he takes my bleeding hand in his and uncorks the canteen with his teeth. Clear, cool water pours from the spout and my body drinks it up as if it can quench some unknown thirst rooted in the depths of my soul. Invisible sparks fly from his every move, like flint striking against stone, and my power burns through me, bubbling up eagerly in response to his touch.
The bleeding stops almost as suddenly as it began, seeming to retreat inside my skin. Murphy slowly wipes what remains away and begins to wrap my hand with a clean cloth.
As he bandages, I study him with curiosity. This feels like nothing and no one I have ever encountered before. My eyes trace the lines of his tattoo, following the open maw of the beast from his neck and across the span of his chest. My eyes cut to his retracting pupils, gray once again coloring his gaze.
Alarm bells peal within me and I know for certain that I’m not the only person in this clearing with magic.
Murphy’s deft fingers tie off the edges of the bandage, but he doesn’t drop my hand. His eyes linger on the crescent-shaped birthmark at the base of my wrist before his thumb lightly, purposefully traces it. Unknown magic shoots up my arm, stealing my breath as I struggle to contain it.
The last light of day fades into twilight with the sunset. He lifts his face towards mine and time itself pauses. Black flashes briefly in his eyes again before my racing heart begins to slow, the frenzied blood in my veins calming.
“Can I tell you a story, princess?” Murphy’s voice is low and soothing. The way one speaks to a spooked animal.
My head involuntarily moves in a single nod urging him to continue.
“When I was a young boy, I used to have terrible nightmares. My mother would tell me a story to soothe me. A tale about a people, theaevus, who could wield magic.”
Every muscle in my body pulls taut, like a rope seconds before it snaps. I should act surprised, terrified of something that should not exist in this world— something that should not exist in me. But the look in his eyes tells me that he would see through the lie.
“The magic was elemental in nature,” he continues. “Theaevuscould control the earth, the air, the water, and even fire. Some say they were descended from the gods; others said they were gods walking amongst the mortals. Either way, theaevuswere said to have a mark.”
Murphy watches me intently, the veins in his neck bulging slightly as if he too is struggling to maintain control in this precarious moment.
