“Saoirse?” The door jerks on its hinges, wood groaning beneath his fists. “You knew I had to tell them at some point, lass.”
I shut my eyes like that might make him disappear. Swallow the ugly scream that wants out.
You dare to ask for mercy?
“We could have waited, I suppose—I see that now. But think of the reward waiting at the end of this! You’ll be a legend alongside me.”
Metal scrapes against metal. Like the ends of an iron betrothal torc hitting my collarbone.
You’re asking me to gamble the fate of our entire island on a fairy tale whenshehas already cost me my heir.
“They’ll sing your praises when we find the isle, mark my words.” A click as the bolt slides free. “It’ll all be—”
Quiet.
Blessed quiet.
I know for a fact Faolanhatesthe quiet—will do anything to break it—yet somehow, this one lingers. Takes on weight. And a twisted bolt of pleasure shoots through me knowing I’m the cause. Whatever concern he painted in the gods’ chamber, asking who hurt me as though he actually cared, it was only because he wants to be the hero of his own story. He is a masterful liar, andthatis the truth that snaps across my lungs. It’s unfamiliar but welcome, rooting in my heart, and for once in my life I don’t want to fight it down.
I want Faolan to suffer. Want him tohurt.
“Saoir—”
“I thought it wasOcean Eyes.” I lift my head, fingers twitching where they grip my legs like a vise. “Wasn’t it? Or have you decided you likeWolf Tamerbetter?”
Faolan flinches when he meets my gaze. “Love.”
“No, that’s not it.” A laugh pushes past my lips, bitter and hard. “The Wolf of the Wild doesn’t have a love. Only legends. A crew member from every island, a lass at every port—a godsdamned ship spun of starlight.” Another laugh, cold enough to prick at the skin running down my back. “And evenshelacks a true name.”
Faolan drops back against the doorframe, a mask sliding over his face. But there’s sweat gathered along the curls at his temple. “If you’re trying to insult me, you can do better than that.”
Fine. I’ll do better.
That wounded creature in my chest drags me to my feet, trembling as I brace against the opposite wall. “You’re afraid. Terrified we’ll look away from you for even a second—that you’ll be just like the rest of us if you don’t take up all the space there is.”
Leather snaps as he adjusts the cords of his single glove. “And what’s the alternative, then? Shrink myself so there’s less of me to swallow?”
“Yes.” The words taste sour as I spit them out. “It’s impossible tobreathewhen you’re in the same room. You steal all the air.”
“And you allow me to.” Faolan crosses his arms, raking his gaze over my rigid posture. My hands spread wide against the wall like that tether alone might keep me safe. “Saoirse, I’ve only ever taken what you offered first.”
“Bullshite.”
He scoffs, an edge to the sound. “Name a moment that I haven’t.”
“The cove.”
Faolan’s eyes snap to mine, dark as pitch. But I can’t stop the words now they’ve broken through.
“Your cabin before the attack, that first storm, every night since—I gave you my magic, Faolan, but I never agreed to be your plaything. This marriage isnotreal.”
He drops his head back. Kicks the heel of his boot once against the wooden door. “Is it my imagination, wife, or did you not kiss me back that first night?”
My body roots into place.
“And Aisling’s Cove. You followed me there. Shade’s breath, you all but commanded me to strip before you—did I force your hand?”
“No.”