Page 23 of Soulgazer

And at fifteen, when I chose to break my own careful rules…

“How is that possible?”

I search Faolan’s face for revulsion or disbelief—fear.

There is only wonder.

He takes a step closer, catching my hands while I root myself to the ground. “How in shade’s realm did you survive touching a soulstone without being marked?”

“I…Father said it faded after a few days. Most people diebefore the marks can.” Faolan makes a thorough sweep of every crevice, callus, and scar with his thumbs. When he lingers on the chalk-white cuts left from the amulet last night, a sharp breath rushes past my teeth, and I jerk my hands free before he can fully map the pattern.

That is one secret he is not permitted to have.

“I’ll tell you what I can,” I say slowly, repeating his promise from before. “But only after you tell me why you need me to find the Isle of Lost Souls.”

Faolan’s brows flick together, lips quirking to one side. “Cheat.”

“I am not—it’s a truth for a truth.”

“Smuggled out of my hand only because I still want to know what’s hiding in yours.” He taps his nose, and a little of the tension melts from my shoulders. “Cleverly done. You’re thinking like a pirate.”

The word sends a shiver down my legs. “Well?”

Faolan rubs at his scruff, then tugs at the gold ring dangling from his ear. This time, he does not meet my eyes. “It…starts with a song. A piece of one, anyway.”

My incredulous stare must speak for itself. But he doesn’t laugh.

Why doesn’t he laugh?

“A song. You’re doing all of this because of a song?”

“I’ve taken greater chances on less.” He lifts one shoulder, slipping a hand into his pocket to retrieve the flask. I barely restrain myself from knocking it away.

“This isn’t a chance, though. This is—”

He tips the flask back, and I watch his throat shift around every swallow.

This iseverything.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” My voice trembles, as he slowly lowers the flask again.

“What, love?”

“This.” I flatten a hand over my heart. “Being cursed. I can hardly touch another person without inviting a piece of them inside. Souls call to me constantly, both the living and dead. I don’t know when the visions will come or go—I can’tforcethem to stop. And the only reason I’ve not died or gone mad is—”

The amulets. My father.

Right?

But another face appears in my memory, crinkled skin and…gray eyes? Green? A song lost to memory, like Faolan’s pitiful scraps.

Daughter of…gaze sworn…

My temple throbs with the effort of remembering. “I probably am going mad, just like Gráinne,” I whisper.

Faolan lurches forward, flask dropping to the ground. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m going mad, same as Gráinne. My grandmother.” The word tastes wrong, coating my mouth in dust. It doesn’t belong to me. Not in the way it should. “Mam said she touched a soulstone too—that Gráinne is the reason I’m cursed.”