Page 22 of Soulgazer

Now, when my brother is already dead.

“Come with me, Saoirse.”

I blink away tears and find Faolan standing before me. Thependant flashes silver as he breathes, then lies flat against his chest when he reaches for me, hand hovering just over my cheek. He gives me the choice to meet it this time, and every bone in my body bends toward his touch. I’ve never felt so exposed—never wanted to be seen so badly.

“Let me make a legend of you.”

I breathe in, and his smallest finger drops to trace the movement.

Breathe out as his nail scrapes my jaw.

There is no going back from this. My entire being knows it, locking against my will, hands curled close to my heart as embers shift beneath the tattoo. Yet it is that pain that prompts my lips to part, pushing the words at last beyond them.

“What if…I’m not a legend? What if I’m a cautionary tale?”

Faolan’s triumphant smile flickers. “Sorry?”

I take another step—closer this time. Until I swear I could hear his heartbeat if I concentrated hard enough. “The reason my eyes shift colors. The…ocean trapped inside them. It doesn’t mean anything good; it’s just…”

A crack in the earth hiding a collapsed cavern below? The first stroke of green in a sky already swirling with storms. It’s a warning bell—a witness to a coming death. A calling card to it as well.

I should have cast you into the sea the moment you opened those eyes.

My stomach lurches, and I press both hands over its shaky center. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Ican’t find this island without you, Saoirse.” Faolan’s voice snatches me back from the swirl of memory as his hand drops to my chin, but his touch is featherlight. “Believe me, I’ve tried. So tell me what it means.”

I wrap a fist around the amulet Father returned this morning. “I-I don’t know.”

“Bullshite.” The word is a breath—a whisper—against my lips. “You wouldn’t have risked coming out here to find me if that were true, would you?”

“No. But—”

For once in your life, Saoirse, you will prove you were worth keeping.

I stumble back, and Faolan’s hands drop between us. My whole body rebels in response. I don’t want to be without his touch, but before I can reach out, he clasps his hands behind his neck and sighs. “Just a few words, love. Help me understand.”

As if that wouldn’t be a betrayal of everything my father’s ever done to keep me safe.

The scent of whiskey cut by sea air is stifling, and my skin crawls with magic thatcannotfind purchase.

I want to rip it off. I want to scream.

I amnotnothing yet.

“Saoirse—”

“Because I’m cursed!” The words fly out like they’ve never known a cage. His mouth falls open, eyes gone blank. I’m shaking, but there is no stuffing the words back inside. So I release a few more.

“I touched a soulstone. I held one in my hand as a child, and somehow, I survived.”

Eight

It began innocently enough. I’d know when my brothers were playing a prank, or when that night’s fish would spoil our stomachs for a week.

But the gods did not spare me as a blessing.

When I was five, I touched Mam’s swollen belly and asked if the new baby could take my selkie doll down to the crypt, for fear it might get lonely away from us all. She lost the babe a week later. By the time I was eight, crowds drowned me in their emotion—a shrill note of song no one else seemed to hear. By twelve and with it my first blood, I could hardly bear to be touched. By thirteen, I avoided the woods, where spirits would flock to me as flies to rotting meat, wanting salvation I could not give.

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