Page 14 of Soulgazer

The apothecary empties his leather pack on my small bed, then lights three more candles around the room. They stink of animal fat, crudely made compared to the beeswax tapers I created in my cottage by the sea. My hands ache to shape them again. I want to be there—so badly that for a moment, I can taste the salt.

Until I realize it’s only tears caught between my trembling lips.

Sionn lays out a series of beaten metal instruments forged of sharp lines, and another handful fashioned of bone. But something else steals my focus when it comes, paralyzing my body. My lungs.

It’s a small vial of lurid white ink.

Da tosses the amulet on the bed with a shake of his head. “Undo her dress, Leannon. Just the back.”

Mam doesn’t hesitate this time. I try to swallow—to speak—as she plucks the laces of my dress until it eases down my shoulders. But no words come. I wrap my arms across my front to hold it there, eyes stinging, when Mam stops. Hesitating before she spreads her hand flat over the notches of my spine.

Her lament is a poison cord, woven through each of my tendons to create a doll she could master and love. I understand now why Mam has never touched my skin willingly—why she used to flinch if I reached for her hand, then smile and brush me away.

Iam the embodiment of my mother’s regrets. For all her prayers, beliefs, lectures, and lessons, she hates me for touching that soulstone.

And she hates herself for hating me.

Mam takes back the hand she meant as a comfort, and I fold into myself as small as I can go—a lone, pitiful creature trapped in the barrel ring. Another tear slides down my jaw as she wipes her palm against her skirt.

“What will you do, Dermot?”

“Mark her with the same pattern we used for the amulets,” Father says, watching Sionn remove a needle from his pack, as slender as an eggshell and tapered to a point. “A triskele, with the spirals turning west. She needs a permanent bind on the magic.”

“And the poison?”

Sionn uncorks the vial and dips the bone needle into the ink.

My heart thrashes like a rabbit caught in a snare when he steps behind me.

“We’ve tempered the ink. Tested it many times—the last three people functioned well enough after.” Da stands beside her as I feel the apothecary’s cold hand spread where Mam’s was only seconds ago. “It’s time to take the risk. Maccus has agreed to a betrothal, and we cannot send her along likethis. The curse must be contained, one way or another.”

I want to throw the apothecary’s hand off. Shriek at them to stop.

But isn’t this what I wanted? Protection from the madness, safety from visions and the call of the dead?

The needlepoint pushes against my skin. I gasp for breath that will not come, arms straining against the urge to push the apothecary away and run—except I killed my brother with this curse. Summoned death with a vision. Is this fate truly any different from banishment to the cottage for the last seven years? Or worse than rotting in a dungeon, buried in the earth?

Ifthisis the only way to atone for Conal’s death—to be the daughter they wanted, worthy of the mercy Father bestowed…

The needle breaks skin, sending liquid fire into my veins that swiftly calcifies, as brittle as ice.

I am numb. I am burning inside. I am—nothing.

I scream.

They have to hold my arms—holdmein place like they haven’t held me since I was small. Gods, was I ever small?

I scream as Father’s hands lock my shoulders into place, and Mam grabs my face between her hands, trying to soothe me—no, to stifle the ugly sounds pouring from my mouth.

This is wrong. This is cleaving me in two.

“Stop—pleasestop—stars, Ican’t—”

“Keep her still! One wrong mark and she’ll never move again.”

Their hold becomes iron, and I moan as something snaps inside me with the next scrape of the needle.

The first spiral is done.