Chapter Six
Six
Faolan
Thunder licks a lazy trail across the horizon as I throw myself into the woods.
It’s as dark as pitch beneath the winding branches, save for splits of silver as lightning tears across the sky.
Cured leather bites at my heels as I drive holes into the mossy earth—then digs hard into my tendon when one of the new boots gets stuck.
Damn it. Damn it all!
I wrench the miserable thing free just as the clouds crack open, unleashing hell.
Rain slaps my face like a punishment, and I tip my head back to accept its holy blow. Maybe this will be the thing to finally cleanse my petty heart—as though Saoirse’s ritual weren’t enough.
Knots form down my spine as I remember the look on Saoirse’s face when she knelt by the bloodstained water, clasping my hand between her own.
She marked herself that day. Stained her palm with the same brilliant scar I’ve worn for the last fourteen years, and in my darker moments, I’ve wondered why.
Why in shade’s realm Saoirse decided to save me.
What she cost us both when she did.
It’s not fecking fair—I know it’s not—but I was meant to be a legend. And, sure, legends don’t die, but they don’t wind up stuck on miserable wee islands with nothing to do but take care of fussy old grannies either.
I was meant to be remembered. A folk hero who’d sail off into the realm of stories.
Not that I ever was any such hero, but to end my story like this?
Forgotten. Powerless.
Pathetic.
Disgust curls my lip back just as a hollow snap stiffens my spine.
“Faolan?”
Winds o’ fury.
“Go back inside, Saoirse.” I wince at the growl in my voice. Try to soften it with a “please.”
The slide of a bare foot through wet leaves is her response, followed by a dull chuff as she releases her skirts to the forest floor. “They don’t need me anymore.”
I can’t help a laugh. “Right, that’s a familiar feeling these days, isn’t it?
” I start forward but shudder to a stop at the weight of her hand on my shoulder.
Light. Tentative, even, as though she expects me to shrug her off again—and Maira knows there’s a part of me that wants to.
The same part that watched her walk into those waters and cut herself from elbow to wrist.
Godsdammit.
“Never mind, just…go back inside, and—”
“I’ve trapped you here. Haven’t I?”
All the breath leaves my lungs as I turn around and take in the nervous sway of her body.
The sweet divot her teeth have made of her bottom lip.
As the rains get heavier, her silvery dress turns to pure liquid that skates over curves made to mock me, and I swear below my breath because I’m not self-righteous enough to look away.
Still, anger’s easier than aching, so I fasten it tight like a leather glove.
“You heard Kiara. It was my choice to stay.”
“But you regret it.”
I flinch, and her throat ripples in response. “Feck’s sake, Saoirse, I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.”
I take a step closer, that disloyal heart of mine pounding the nearer we get. “What does that mean?”
“I…” Her eyes drop from mine to her hand on my shoulder. I take it before she can pull it away, dragging it down between us until our palms mirror each other, marked by the same opal splash.
Understanding sinks in like a sword to the gut.
“The magic. You used it on me?”
She rocks a step backward, dark hair plastered across her throat. “I didn’t mean to.”
“But you still did.”
Saoirse doesn’t say a word.
I let go of her hand, knuckles cracking as I reach for a branch instead. It bends under my weight, like I might snap it off and shape a wee currach from the wood to set us both free.
But I’m not the one made of magic.
And I’ve never been a martyr.
“Right,” I say, releasing the branch to fall back against the tree. “What did you see?”
“I—” She breathes in hard, tears gathering her lashes into sooty streaks. “I didn’t see anything.”
A laugh splinters my ribs. “Liar.”
Another rumble passes through the woods, shaking the ground between us as Saoirse stares me down. And finally, I see it cross her face—just the tiniest smidge of anger, bent between her brows.
Good.
“You saw a cage around me, was it?” My fingers drum along the branch. “Not particularly imaginative, but I can’t exactly control my dreams.”
“That’s not it.”
“No?” An errant leaf flies from my fingertips as I drag them across the bark. “Regret…right. Did you see me wearing a crown that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard I pushed? Or was it the handfasting cords that were the shackle, refusing to come off?”
“Faolan, stop.”
My grip tightens, wood groaning beneath my weight. “Or how about—”
“I’ve seen you drown!”
The branch cracks.
“No.”
Saoirse starts forward, then stops, her ghost-pale face torn between regret and fury as the storm rages on above us. Then, slowly, she extends her soul-stained palm to mine.
I can’t take it.
Can’t do much more than gape, all my breath stolen like I’ve plunged into the sea again.
“Faolan,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve lain beside you every night. Felt your body so close to mine, I forget what it was like to be alone. Even with my best efforts to block out your mind, you must know that I can see…that I can tell—”
“I know you can tell! That’s the point.” My words tumble over one another, clattering like a handful of shells.
Fragile. Out of place. Slowly, I push away from the tree as the air darkens around us.
“I know you’re a goddess now, but you could give a man some dignity and at least pretend to believe me when I say I’m f—”
“Don’t say fine.” A harsh puff of air comes right before another crack of lightning.
Saoirse is fast to shelter beneath the leaves, chest heaving as she seeks my eyes out. I want to hide from hers, even as I sink myself in their swirling color.
They twist like a whirlpool when her gaze locks on mine.
“You are many things, Faolan. A coward is not one of them. So please, stop hiding from me.”
“Stars above—what do you want me to say?”
“Anything.” She takes a step closer. “Everything.”
“Why, so you can take it on yourself?”
“I won’t.”
“Trouble.”
“I won’t.”
Water slices across her collarbone as I shake my head. “You already have, love.”
She blinks, drops of water distorting her expression so one moment she looks grief-stricken and the next, guilty as sin. “And why not? If my magic can tell me how to ease your suffering—”
“What makes you think, after this summer, that I’d want that?” My fingers curl into sodden silk, tugging her in by the skirts. “That I’d ever want you to hurt for me again?”
Her lip trembles. Eyes narrowed to stubborn slits. “I can handle it.”
“I don’t care!”
My grip tightens until she’s unbalanced, her chest falling against mine.
But I don’t give her quarter to back away—not from this.
Wind rages around us as I lean closer, throat aching with all the things I’ve kept away.
“No, this isn’t what I pictured when we set out to find the island.
Yes, I do feel trapped, love, but not by you. ”
“That’s not true!” Her fingers dig into the space above my heart. “Just admit you’re angry with me, and maybe we can—”
“Of course I’m feckin’ angry!”
My forehead drops to hers, and all that heat inside me bursts, smothered by the press of our rain-slick skin. It tempers my shout until the confession drops low into my throat, filling the air between us.
“I watched you die, Saoirse. I watched you cut yourself open and bleed out. I couldn’t reach you, couldn’t stop you, couldn’t save you. You want the truth?”
Her face is a streak of moonlight as she tips it back. “Yes.”
My heart beats double its usual pace. Triple as I tangle a hand into her hair.
There once was a nameless boy who longed for a cloak of wolfskin.
I unleash my jaw and let the ugliness spill out.
“Sometimes, I hate you for making that choice.”
Her body goes rigid, and I loosen my grip. But Saoirse doesn’t pull away.
“It plays over in my mind every feckin’ night, the way that dagger split your flesh.
How your blood turned to water, and it all swallowed you up.
” My heart shudders as I rub my thumb along the seam of her skirt.
“I thought you’d drowned, and I was so—so angry at you for dying.
Sacrificing yourself for my worthless hide.
And I wonder what I could’ve done different.
What would have happened if we’d run instead of fought. ”
Rivulets pour down our bodies as I drag my hand lower across her skin, ’til my fingers close gently around her throat. Her scar bobs beneath my fingertip, but it’s the soft, sure pulse that makes my own heart catch.
“Maybe that does make me a coward. But I’d rather have that be my legend than have ever faced losing you.”
Thunder shakes the leaves underfoot. Rattles us both to the bone as Saoirse raises a hand. I half hope she’ll slap me.
She cups my face instead.
“Then why do you keep leaving me?”
I reel back, but she curls her fingers under my jaw to keep me there, her eyes inescapable. “You pushed me to claim my magic, Faolan. To find the island and take charge of my fate. You made me a wolf, and then as soon as we got stuck on this island, you abandoned me.”
“Saoirse, I stayed—”
“In body, yes. But in spirit?” Saoirse releases my face to push against my chest, her own drawn tight. “When I made that choice, it wasn’t just for you or even our crew. It was for the Crescent—”
“You are not responsible for the Crescent!” I cup her face between my palms. “Darlin’, whatever fate or your ancestor dictates, you can’t believe that.”
“I do.” Her eyes shift as she glares, lightning turning the blue-gray to a tourmaline hue. “So did you, when you convinced me to join your crew. Remember?”
Wind tears between us, threatening to push us apart.
I drop my hands to her waist, tugging her closer.
“The Magpie and the Wolf?”
“Aye,” she whispers. “Together, we were going to save the dying world. Remember?”
My jaw works as I snort. “I was an eejit.”
“But you were right.” Saoirse smooths a hand through my hair, pressing it back as her eyes flicker shut. “It didn’t happen the way we thought it would. The cost was higher than we planned. But I’d pay it again for this. For us.”
Her grip falters on my temple, pale fingers trembling—or maybe it’s me.
A supplicant before the only goddess I’ve ever claimed as my own.
“So please,” she whispers, “stop running away from it.”
Saoirse opens her eyes, and I’m drowning all over again.
“Stop running away from m—”
I spin us both before she can finish, pressing her back into the tree as our mouths collide with each other.
There’s a moment when the storm stops. The clouds break. Everything goes still.
And then Saoirse buries her body into mine.
I focus on the way our lips shape wordless vows together.
Focus on the tiny pants that leap up her throat when I drag a hand beneath her skirts.
The first time we slept together, Saoirse lay back and let it happen—only touching when I convinced her to, like she was afraid to make a wrong move and scare me off.
Now her fingers twist tight in my hair and guide me lower until my knees hit the mossy earth, my lips forming new confessions against the sweetest part of her.
Her cries mingle with thunder as I slide my tongue through hot, slick silk.
I push her hand from my hair, nudging it toward the low branches she grips until her knuckles go white.
Then I hook one perfect round thigh over my shoulder and let go of the need to breathe in favor of her trembling.
For a moment, as she tightens and comes unbound, I think about telling her the rest.
How I long for her, and am absolutely bloody terrified of her in the same breath. How I’m lost without my ship and the guise of the Wolf. How every night, I go to sleep feeling utterly fecking useless.
Instead, I snatch those silver skirts and pull her down until we’re rolling in the sodden leaves.
A goddess and her most devout worshipper.
A queen and her consort.
Bathed blissfully in the dirt.
There once was a nameless boy who longed for a cloak of wolfskin.
Saoirse catches my face between her hands before I can bury it in her throat, her legs quivering as they support herself just above me. Salvation ready to sink onto my flesh.
She hovers there, holding until I meet her gaze.
It’s gentle and unguarded.
Enough to undo me.
“Saoirse, I—”
She stops me with a kiss, then steals my groan as she draws my body fully into hers.
When it’s done—when we’re lying, spent, in the sweaty tangle of each other’s arms—I fall asleep, and dream of drowning again.