Page 116 of Soulgazer

Aidan goes still, dark curls falling into his eyes. “Would you miss it?”

His question lodges in my stomach and stays there.

I prayed for so long that I’d never feel the magic’s touch again. On Faolan’s ship, diving for Gráinne’s bones, at the Scath-Díol and every moment after, whenever it arose in me, I’d fight it down the best I could. Yet for a brief handful of hours, from last night to this morning, I wasfree. Alive in a way I’ve deprived myself of for twenty-two years.

And now, chained and numb once more, I finally understand why Faolan craves freedom so.

Better to feel anything thannothing.

“Aye.” I lower my head to study my ragged nails, heartconstricting until I fear it will stop. “I would. But it doesn’t matter now. Da crushed the bone ring, and there’s no getting it back. He’s going to destroy the pieces, which means we can’t find the Isle of Lost Souls, and Faolan—”

My voice breaks as his abalone scar flashes across my mind.

“Faolan is going to die.”

Aidan startles to his feet, gripping the back of his neck. “No. Saoirse—obviously Da wouldn’t have him killed. Do you know the uproar he’d receive?”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s…”

The words die on my tongue. I’ve already asked Aidan to believe so much, it feels like a step too far trying to explain the soul-bargain mark as well. There’s a reason Faolan hasn’t confided in his crew, isn’t there?

I bite the edge of my thumb instead. “What is Da’s plan for us?”

Aidan lowers his gaze, shifting from one foot to the other. “He’s already contacted Ríona Kiara to collect Faolan after the wed— after a few days pass. He thinks it will do the Wolf some good to stay dungeon-bound.”

Faolan will hate that. My body drains of warmth as Aidan watches the ground, one arm stretched over his head. Layers of muscle strain at the seams of his shirt, scars spanning skin wherever it’s exposed—so many more now than when he was seventeen. He used to prize his smooth skin, claiming it a future canvas for the colorful tattoos of Painted Claw.

I nudge his foot with mine. “You’re close to Da now?”

“Close enough to track his movements.” Aidan grimaces, kicking the fire poker aside. “Right down to the bowels.”

I don’t laugh, though some distant part of me wishes to.

After a moment, Aidan’s rueful smile falls and he stalks to theshattered window, looking outside. “I have Father’s ear now, as much as he allows it. But he still keeps his secrets, even from me.”

“Including the apothecary’s work?”

Aidan keeps his back to me. “Aye.”

He’s lying. I see it in the redness of his ears, a habit from childhood, yet I cannot fathom why. Da already let slip that they haven’t had time to brew fresh ink for my skin—unless Aidan knows about the bottles in the apothecary’s cabin. Concoctions brewed of caipín baís, then sold at the Scath-Díol to avoid scrutiny.

I think of the girl with the pallid fingers, her mother’s vacant stare, and the smell of rotting things. None of them are visible here, yet their fingerprints are obvious in the fine clothing Da wore and the beautiful weave of Aidan’s belt. My own dresses are cut from cloth purchased by the villagers’ labor and the apothecary’s designs.

I open my mouth to press Aidan, then stop. Study the taut, unfamiliar line of his neck.

Aidan may dislike our father, or disagree with his tactics, but loyalty in our home has never been a choice. We filled our roles as commanded, ignored the ugly parts, and lived behind walls that meant we never saw what it took to build them.

Seven years is a long time apart.

“You were going to say Kiara will come after the wedding, weren’t you? Do you know about the marriage treaty to Maccus?”

Aidan’s boots drag against stone, but I turn my eyes to the last dying embers before he can face me again. “Maccus has had his eye on a secure alliance for years, Saoirse. You’re just the easiest route to take.”

I laugh, though there’s no humor in the sound. “It’s never been about me, then. I was merely the wax sealing the contract.”

Aidan nods, and I drop my head against my knees. Something unnamed passes through me, relief mixed with what, I do not know. Revulsion? Disturbance?

I shiver as the fire dies beside us, remembering Maccus’s cold smile. “You have to help us get away, Aidan. Please.”