Page 19 of Soulgazer

It would be easy, wouldn’t it, to hide in the milling crowds drifting past vendors and food stalls at the split?

Easy to find the man whose name lingers on everyone’s lips.

I stand, brushing my skirts free. “Aye, my king. Thank you.” I bow as Da dismisses me with a wave.

But Rí Maccus’s cold gaze stays at my back until the crunch of shells shifts to moss-covered earth beneath my boots as I reach the shadow of the trees.

People cluster around vendors like bees sampling the same flower, turning over earth-toned tunics and leather belts, beaten-metal torcs and stone-studded cuffs to inspect their craft. A handful of lads clusters around a firepit, swapping coins for sticks of roasted meat. One of them has his back to me, arms woven around a swan from last night. His dark, wavy hair is tied in a knot behind his head.

I stumble over a tree root in my attempt to see his eyes past the veil—and immediately regret it when the couple startles to their feet, glaring. “Watch yourself!”

“Sorry.” This man’s eyes are brown. The Wolf’s are blue.

I wrap my arms tight around my middle, trying to ignore their muffled laughter as I walk on. But the faces passing by are tricky to make out through the veil. One is too round, the other’s smile too sincere. Their voices blend together like birdsong until all I hear is an indistinct melody.

I step off the path into a thicket of beech trees, hazy blue smoke drifting in between, and laugh.

I truly am a fool.

The Wolf wore a mask last night. His smile was arrogant, lips painfully soft, but firelight and magic obscure my memories of the rest. Did I truly think it would be easy to find him? I’m used to looking at the world through windows, not standing in its midst.

A nearby seller removes an ochre cloak hanging from the line tied to his cart, creating a wee gap to the other side. I wander closer, tightening my hold on myself as the overwhelming urge to flee settles in.

It was stupid to come here. For all I know, the entire legend of the Wolf is built on lies. And the island’s been gone for centuries, since before the gods’ demise. Why should I think he could possibly—

A second cloak comes down, and in the space left behind I seehim.

Leaning back against his own beech tree, holding a leather flask in one hand. The Wolf of the Wild is taller than I remember, or perhaps it’s just that now he’s wearing boots. Elaborate rings dot each finger as sunlight teases liberal streaks of red out of his dark brown hair. Half the curls are tied back, revealing a series of gold rings at the shell of his ear. He smiles like he understandsexactlyhis place in this world, just like Aidan said.

Gods.Gods.

I bite my lip. Take one slow step forward to duck around the remaining cloaks.

And find half a dozen people surrounding him on the other side.

Seven

This is a mistake.

I turn to flee—but my boot strikes a twig with a crack so loud, it draws all six pairs of eyes directly to me. I cover my veiled face without hesitation, begging the ground to open below.

“Right. We’ll start the betting at a ten-piece that her friends put her up to this. Stars above, but the lasses are getting an early start today!”

The words startle me nearly enough to look up, just so I can put a face to the deep, honeyed voice. Before I can, another person chimes in—lighter this time, her words trembling like she’s holding back a belly laugh.

“Shall I cut a lock of hair for the girl, Captain? It’ll do you some good, missing a chunk in the front there.”

Chuckles ripple among the others and I attempt to swallow, but my throat is as dry as sand. “I-I’m sorry, I just…L-last night—”

Full-blown laughter drowns out my words, chased by a deep groan and the strike of a hand against a shoulder. “Winds o’ fury! Faolan, lad, tell me you didn’t seduce an innocent last night—andthis one a bride! We can’t take any more enraged grooms threatening to set fire to our sails. Or fathers, or brothers, or—”

“Oi! Lay off the poor thing, would you? You all know damned well innocent’s never been my type.”

It’shisvoice. I’m sure of it.

Silk and salt.

Tentatively, I lower my hands enough to see a tall woman with a rounded belly standing closest to me, coppery hair cut just above her broad, heavily freckled shoulders. A man stands one head above her, his deep brown skin and dark eyes gleaming like mahogany polished in the sun.