Page 78 of Soulgazer

Another choice. And I’m half-drunk on the power of it as I slide a hand into his hair and drag my mouth over his. I kiss Faolan—the legend I heard stories of for years and the man I’ve lain beside every night for weeks—and in turn he wraps my thighs over his hips. Groans when I tighten their hold as he releases my legs.

For just a moment, worry bites through the warmth.

We’resoclose. It would take little effort for him to pull the skirt free. And even though part of me wants nothing more than to understand the fullness of it—of what it would be like to join another person’s body with mine—the other part is terrified of the invasion. What sort of channel that would allow for the magic to escape. I’ve only just begun to understand the boundaries of who I am, or that I can even touch another person at all without hurting them. I’m not ready for what questions more would bring.

But Faolan doesn’t press me. Instead, he drops his mouth to the curve of my neck and, on a rough string of swears, guides my hand between his hips.

“Stars.”

I’m not sure who breathes the word—Faolan or myself. His entire body curls around mine, taut and trembling, as I stroke a pattern taught by the sea. It’s…intoxicating, watching the waves build beneath his skin. A hollow appears in his cheek as he clenches his jaw, swallowing another curse. When I turn my own mouth against his throat, parting my lips to taste salt, a hoarse groan rushes through my hair.

“Feck, you’ll be the death of me—”

I know.

The fear is easy to ignore when he presses me harder to thewall, hips rocking closer, hands wandering to my breasts. I blink that first vision away and steal this moment—until Faolan is gasping my name, face buried in my shoulder as he releases control and then catches himself with an arm on either side of me. Panting and shaking, something akin to wonder on his face.

I almost laugh. Almost.

Because for once, the Wolf of the Wild is utterly speechless.

And it was my power that commanded him so.

Twenty-Nine

Darkness engulfs the cloudless blue skies in slow measures as our ship reaches the Scath-Díol three days later. Nessa tells me the Shadow Exchange was named for a particular kind of gem that allows someone to leave their earthly shape behind, bending shadows to disguise their form. It’s forbidden to harvest among all six isles—but then so are most things sold at these black markets.

Far above the mast, a brilliant light starts to flicker around the sun’s inky-black center, strange and cold. Tavin releases a long, slow whistle of warning, and we all duck our heads in unison to avoid the eclipse’s full glare as the ship drops anchor below us. For once, I rock with the motion instead of falling, weight shifting from one leg to the other so I am one with the water instead of fighting against it.

When I glance up, Faolan’s eyes are on me, a smile lighting up his face.

And damned if my heart doesn’t try to fly directly into his palm.

“Nessa, you still have your contact from the Isle of Painted Claw?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Grand. Ask him about the ring—he was at that table. You and Lorcan find him and offload the crates from our last stop home. I’ll handle the gills. The rest of you, be on the lookout for Captain Siobhan of Unbound Earth, and Rian of Reborn Stalk. He’ll have Aoife with him wherever he goes, and he’ll be missing his left ring finger—probably more by this point.” Faolan loops a bag over his shoulder, and I force my gaze away.

Three days since the cove, and we’ve not spoken of it since. We pass each other like clouds—a touch gliding down my back or twirling a lock of hair, always gone the moment I turn my head to face him. He’s asleep by the time I reach the bed, or doesn’t come to it until after I’ve found a dream. Still, his words ring in my head.

My wife. My protection.

Ships hover in a wide-flung circle around us, their individual markings and flags obscured. I’m certain the crew will know where most come from, but it gives the illusion of privacy. Honor among thieves. Still, I pull at the fabric draped across my shoulders until it forms a proper hood, shielding my face from view. We don’t know yet what story my father or the Stone King has spun.

“Here she comes.”

Conversations die between one breath and the next as the ocean writhes beneath the eclipse’s mark. Waters churn into a raging froth beneath the white ring of light and then split to reveal a land that was not there before. A secret island with golden sand that emerges only two or three times a year under a solar eclipse, according to Faolan. Time slows once the birthing is complete, and the earth remains still until the last drop of sunlight breaks free of the moon to send it all sinking back into the sea.

Between one blink and the next, the light shifts from white to red, and a ridged expanse of land as yellow as goldenrod emerges from the waters.

None of the boats hesitate to advance, our own currachs lowered to the water at once. There are stalls to set up, prices to haggle, cargo to unload, and time is already slipping away.

—

“Silence and stealth! Slip through the streets undetected with a painted claw. The birds are only sacred to keep you from having them.”

“Fang of the diamond adder! One good poke will paralyze a man for twenty minutes straight.”