Page 95 of Soulgazer

Faolan’s teeth flash in the window’s reflection, expression as wry as mine is grim.

“I became the Wolf of the Wild. Forgot all about the vision, the ring—I let them all think it was murúch tears and gall that kept me alive. It wasn’t until the bargainer’s mark showed up eleven months ago that I started to believe it all again.”

My fingers twist in his shirt. “That’s when you approached Ríona Kiara about the Isle of Lost Souls?”

“Aye.” His hands tighten over mine. “Spun her some shite into gold about a heroic hunt for the isle, and she backed me. With a heap of conditions, mind, and the promise I’d stop if after a year we’d found nothing. We were sailing the Crescent the very next day.”

My voice is weak, muffled by his shirt. “And now we’ve only twenty days to find it?”

We both glance to the window and the pitch black of midnight.

“Nineteen, now.”

“Faolan—”

A fist collides with the door in three sharp raps, jarring us apart. “We’re nearing the vessel, Captain. He didn’t have much of a head start.”

It’s Nessa’s voice, colder than I’ve ever heard it. Of all the others, she is the one easiest to laugh. Faolan is still, gaping as his bargainer’s mark catches the light, splashing colors across his face. My stomach coils to the point of pain.

“None of them know, do they?”

His eyes lock on mine as he gives the smallest shake of his head.

“Feck.”

The fist comes again. “Captain?”

“Aye!” It’s my voice that fills the room this time—too soft, cracked in the middle. But my movements are sure as I take Faolan’s hand and pull the leather glove back into place. “We’re coming on board. Prepare the approach!”

Part of me hates Faolan for looking so awed as I tie the cords across his wrist, drawing them tight until the leather conceals any hint of moonlight scored across his flesh. I’ll be his secret keeper, for the sake of the crew. They may distrust me now, but they’ll still follow the Wolf anywhere, so long as he can convince them of the story.

Faolan swallows as I tie off the cords. Tries to wrap his fingers over mine.

I draw back before he can.

Thirty-Five

As we walk onto the deck, a throaty howl pierces the air.

I barely swallow my scream before another comes, and then a third, like a pack of wolves has found its way onto the sea. In the crow’s nest, tiny Oona cups her palms around her mouth—but there’s no way her voice alone could chill the air in my lungs.

I jerk back on my heel just as Faolan pulls a ring free of his smallest finger, made of wood braided with something thick and dark—fur? He cups his hand around it until the ring rests in the circle of his finger and thumb, then throws back his head and sets it to his lips.

The sound that escapes is bloodcurdling, dripping with restless hunger and an ageless hunt. Not Faolan’s scream, but a wolf’s unearthly howl. He catches my eye once his lungs are empty and shrugs, jerking his chin toward the prow, where a ship lies just beyond.

It’s close enough that I could touch it if I tried. Red wood gleams in the firelight, a marigold-yellow flag tearing at the wind high above our heads—smaller than Faolan’s, but only just. Below that flag is one of my own isle’s colors. The crew stands straight-faced and cautious as they draw their sails until our ships runalongside each other, lanterns casting deep shadows across both of our decks.

“It was Rian who took the ring,” Faolan says, lowering his hand to the dagger at his side. “We were questioning Siobhan at the Scath-Díol when the bastard sailed off. Brona spotted his ship on the horizon just before I left to find you.”

“But we still don’t know why he took it?”

“I’ve a fair idea about that, actually.”

Annoyance tugs at my brow as I watch Faolan adjust a few ropes, smiling as though our fight never happened. “Would you care to explain?”

He laughs, a great gust of breath that shivers down my back as his arm slides around my waist. “What would be the fun in that? I’ll show you instead. Hold on.”

“What—”