Page 60 of Soulgazer

His eyes glitter like sapphires beneath the weight of damp curls, and when he strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers, something in me falls away.

Faolan’s gaze falls to my lips. Stays there. And just when I’m sure he’s going to kiss me—when I think I might want him to—he lets out a low chuckle and starts to sing.

“I once met a girl with ocean eyes. She was quite wee, yet broad in the thighs. One kiss from her lips, and surely I’d die. Oh the mighty sweet Saoirse, my bride.”

One kiss and he’d die? Sweet?

Broad?

“Faolan, I—” Something glints across his arm. I choke back a scream as I shove him away and scramble out of bed, reaching for the silver box of Bruidin flame. With shaking fingers, I pull one of the dried leaves from Faolan’s isle free and crack it in half, sparking a flame. I light a lantern in seconds, returning to the bedside to catch his arm and pull it over for a proper look.

The wound on his forearm didn’t close. It’s worse. So much worse, swollen to twice its usual size and colored an angry red laced with gold the same as the fishes’ scales.

“Stars help me—Faolan! Oh gods, you’re burning up.” I see it now. It’s so fecking obvious I want to scream. The flush to his face when they pulled me onto the deck, the strange temper and fever glittering in his eyes. The nonsense song and all those touches. He’s not in his right mind—of course he’s not.

And neither am I.

Shoving my hair back, I snatch Faolan’s green coat from a chair and slip it over my shift. He watches me with a stupid smile on his face, crimson flags raised high in his cheeks.

“Where in shade’s realm are you going, love? We were just getting started.”

“You’re sick, eejit!” The word breaks as I speak it.

And I’d thought he wanted to…had I really…

My vision blurs as I fling open the door. “Stay there, all right? I-I’ll just fetch Lorcan. And the surgeon’s chest—thank the gods I didn’t listen to you.”

“You never do. But that’s one of the things I like about you.”

I stare at him for two endless moments, then race through the door.

—

Lorcan’s brow furrows so tight as he examines Faolan’s arm that I’m convinced the wrinkles will remain forever. “You didn’t want to make this easy, did you, Captain?”

“Where’s the—fun in that?” Faolan’s sitting up now with the wind ruffling his hair, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. There are no more absurd songs, but there’s hardly anything else from him either. The white heather we brewed from the Isle of Frozen Hearth managed to calm his fever enough to return his mind, yet did nothing for his arm. Even willow bark is barely touching the pain.

“Why don’t you keep a surgeon?” My voice shakes as I pound calendula and elm bark with a mortar and pestle, the pieces so shriveled I’m not sure they’ll be of any use. “For this many people—asdangerousas your lives all are—you should have one.”

I glance up to see Lorcan biting down on the tip of his tongue, avoiding my gaze. I turn on Faolan.

“Why don’t you have one? Or at least a half-decent stock of supplies?”

He appears sheepish for once, no more energy for the show. “We were supposed to visit the northern healers of Frozen Hearth after our last, ah, run-in with trouble. But it’s a few days’ hike inland, up their mountain pass, so I gave the orders to carry on.”

Lorcan twists Faolan’s arm lightly in his grip. Scarlet lines radiate from every puncture in the flesh.

“Why?” I ask, the word barely audible. I don’t want to hear the answer.

Faolan grimaces when the movement pulls at his broken skin, but he tries for a smile nonetheless.

“I was eager to meet my wife, of course.”

Tears flood my eyes as Lorcan grunts, pressing a cloth to the seeping wound. “You just had to dive headfirst into the thick of it, didn’t you?” he mutters.

“No other way, was there?” Faolan’s laugh rattles when it comes. “Well, until Saoirse found it. Bloody smart, she is.” His eyes seek me out, and my jaw clenches tight.

I cannot remember the feel of his kiss. I can’t think about his arm around me when I woke.