Page 122 of Soulgazer

“You said if you could control your magic, that it wouldn’t be Conal you killed. Didn’t you?”

“I…” I cannot speak. My stomach rolls into sickening knots. “I didn’t do it.”

“I don’t believe you, Saoirse. Not this time.”

“Aidan—”

Da howls and tries to drive his head back into Aidan’s nose just as guards flood in from the doorway. All eyes are fixed on the struggling bodies before us, Aidan’s focus on keeping Da from harming himself further under what he believes is my curse.

And perhaps I am a curse after all. Wreaking death and pain everywhere I step, a thing to be hated and feared.

Conal’s soulstone weighs heavy in my pocket as I bite down on my wrist to keep another sob from escaping, and run out the door.

—

Late-afternoon light flares through uneven windows as I race down the servants’ pass, landing like a slap across my face every time. The playroom becomes a blur as I run through it next, and down the stairs beyond.

I don’t believe you.

My ankle rolls on the bottom step and I cry out as I fall forward, colliding with a surface that’s soft and hard at once and smells of—

“Saoirse?! Stars o’ fire.” Faolan crushes me to his chest. “Your brother said you’d be here twenty minutes ago. Kiara’s waiting—took her a feckin’ age to arrive, thanks to the storm. Tavin’s scrying shell requires moonlight to send a message, and…What’s wrong?”

I try to say something, or maybe I don’t, because I feel so far from myself as Faolan pulls me along. My lips are useless, teeth chattering. I can’t speak—until he opens the door at the end. Thewrongdoor, which leads to the entry hall, where half a dozen guards wait to greet the Stone King.

“Bastard!” Faolan tries to slam the door, but one of the guards holds it open with her shoulder as two others rush inside. Faolan drops his grip on me in favor of raising his fists, but finally life rushes back into my limbs enough that I take his arm and pull him behind me.

“Stop.” He edges around me and I plant my feet. “Faolan, stop!”

“We have togo, Saoirse.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you put his mind back together.” Aidan breaks through the guards, his shirt blood-smeared and eyes dark and distant—as cold as our father’s.

Faolan tears his gaze from the guards to face my brother, then slowly glances back at me.

Magic still courses through my body in rapid, tumbling channels. He must see it swirl within my eyes.

“I-I didn’t mean to.”

“Shite,” Faolan murmurs, confusion melting into concern as he palms my cheek. “I know, love, just—tell me what happened?”

“She’s driven our father mad, that’s what.” Aidan speaks through his teeth, face pale with outrage. “Her bloody curse scrambled his brains, and—Saoirse, stop shaking yourfeckinghead!”

I try to force stillness, gripping my hands hard enough that more blood seeps through the wounds on my palm. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—I swear I didn’t mean to.”

“Obviously you didn’t.” Faolan sets his shoulders and steps half in front of me to face Aidan head-on. “But even if she had, could you blame her? Have youseenthe state of her back?”

Aidan’s fury slips, and for a second he’s only my brother again. “What are you talking about?”

“She didn’t tell you what that bastard did to her? The tattoo?”

“I…”

A servant approaches with owl-wide eyes, saving me from speech. “Ríona Kiara is at the main doors, my prince. She demands an audience with the king.”

It stops Aidan in his tracks, face going to ash as he looks toward the stairs behind us, then slowly down to his hands and shirt. Blood speckles the fabric, staining his skin. “Feck.” He swipes a hand over his brow, then stares at the two of us.

I cannot imagine what he sees.