Page 82 of Soulgazer

“Saoirse!”

I startle, and my hand slips on a sharp point, the stone gouging my fingertip.

“Bollocks! Faolan, you—” I jerk my hand away, but blood already drips down the etchings, sprinkling the ground at my feet. My husband barely looks chagrined when he reaches my side, the silver-threaded sling tied onto his belt.

“Well, I didn’t mean for you to cut yourself, did I?” Faolan asks as he bites down on the edge of his scarf and tears into the seam. One hard wrench, and a long strip comes free, which he wraps round my hand, pressing down to stop the bleeding. “I only wanted to bring you the sling. Honestly, who comes to the biggest black market in the Crescent and then runs off to talk with a bunch of rocks alone?”

“I wasn’t talking to rocks, you absurd man, I was just—” My words tangle as a grin breaks his serious expression. I groan. “You can be such a—”

“Please, go on. I’ve been dying to hear you use one of those words you always bite back.” Faolan’s shoulders shake with repressed laughter as he ties off the cloth. “I’m such a…bastard?” He kisses my fingertip like that’ll seal the cut. “Prick?”

“Pain in the arse.”

I wrench my hand away and turn back to face what should be a mass of solid stone.

The boulder’s surface ripples like freshly poured candle wax instead.

“What are you—feck!” Faolan catches my arm as I reach for it, fingertips a scant distance away from the swirls and lines sprinkled scarlet with my blood. Yet even as we watch, the patterns grow darker, drawing blood like ink into their lines as though starving for it.

As seven clear sigils burn dark red against the gold, Faolan swears and laughs in the same breath. “I’ve seen plenty round the Crescent, but this is…” He trails off as the marks disappear.

I lurch forward, a pang of longing and loss racking through my heart.

“Let me go.”

“What?” Faolan’s hand tightens at my elbow as I try to shake it free. “No. Trouble—”

“The magic’s calling me. I need to see what’s on the other side.”

“Assuming there is one.” He eyes the rock face warily, flexing his fingers as I reach for it again. “What if it eats you?”

A laugh catches me off guard, then stops when my hand meets the surface, warm and satin smooth. A touch of pressure, and my whole arm begins to melt through.

Faolan’s hold drops to my waist, hauling me back so my hand falls free. “Right, that’s enough of that. Let’s go meet the crew and—”

“Faolan!” I squirm and press against his chest until finally he lets me go. There are sharp shadows beneath the line of his brow, lips no longer smiling but flat with concern. More bewildering still, he looks almost hurt that I’ve pushed him away.

I shake my head to clear it and back toward the stone. “I’m tired of waging war against myself. Tired of hiding, of being useless—Faolan, you took me from Maccus and my father for this magic, and for once I’m really trying to understand it.”

“I know.” Faolan tears a hand through his hair. “I know, it’s just…”

“Do you want my magic or not?”

I’ve never seen a look of such agony cross his face—not when he was feverish and dying, not when my hand was a blackened, bloody mess. It’s there and gone again in a second, leaving me to wonder if I ever saw it at all.

Faolan tips his head toward the sky, then offers his hand out for mine.

“We’ll have to be quick about it, though. The island won’t stay for long after the eclipse is done.”

Hesitant, I knit my fingers slowly with his own. “We?”

“Aye.” He smiles. “I’m not letting some dusty old rock swallow you without putting up a fight.”

I nod and, together, we step forward into liquid gold.

—

We are creatures without weight or form, our beings swallowed alive by light. The only thing that is real is the grip of Faolan’s hand around my own, and I focus what little of my consciousness is left on his calluses pressing into my palm.