Chapter 4
T he quiet of the room was broken by the crackle of the fireplace, startling Emer’s tired nerves and causing her to turn. Her eyes did not fall on the whispering fire, but on the knight who sat silently before it and the devious smirk he wore.
Legs outstretched and hands intertwined in his lap, Calder was the picture of ease. “Oh, please, don’t stop on my account,” he said with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
Emer stumbled back into the desk, her hand clutching her chest and eyes wide.
With a pointed look and an arched brow he said, “I’m sorry, was that rude?”
“You can’t just… do that to people!” she barked.
“Keeper. Captive,” he crooned, pointing his finger at the respective party. She opened her mouth but could not get any words to leave her lips. Calder’s expression shifted as he took in her appearance and the way her petite frame drowned in his clothes.
“You are smaller than you seem,” he confessed.
It was a compliment—a testament to how she carried herself. Emer, however, mistook it for criticism. Her eyes settled on the single plate on the floor next to his chair .
“Indulge me,” he said with a tip of his head, beckoning her to approach. “Given that you have been so reluctant to tell me about yourself, please enlighten me on what you think I am.”
She wondered if his choice of wording was intentionally designed to unsettle her. “ What” rather than “ who”.
“Sit,” he said with his lips.
Play he said with his eyes.
It was a command, not a request but Emer remained unmoved and silent.
“I’ve been told I have a pleasing voice, but I must confess, I dislike repeating myself. Don’t make me ask again.”
His stare intensified, and she thought back to the letters on the desk as she made her way across the room and sat in the chair opposite him.
“So?” he prompted.
“You are a knight,” she replied, still resisting his game.
He let out a disapproving click.
“Merrow, you disappoint me… you can do better than that,” he chided as he reached down to pick up the plate from the floor.
Her eyes followed the movement and came to rest on the steaming food, despite her best efforts to ignore the alluring smell.
“Someone named Lina cares very much about you, although her reasons are beyond me,” she spat.
“She does,” he confirmed, but then paused greedily, awaiting another observation.
“People seem to value your opinion, which I assume is why you are quite impossible.”
He let out a low chuckle, which caught her by surprise. “Yes, there are those that either desire or require my approval.” His stare urged her to react to the power he alluded to possessing but Emer consciously masked her expression from revealing any of her interest or fear.
“You are simply repeating what you read from the correspondences you rifled through. Are you not able to deduce anything that isn’t explicitly stated? I thought you were smarter than that,” he goaded.
“You’re a Sea Raven,” she barked out in frustration, despite everything rational in her screaming not to take the bait, not to play his game.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on the “L” made by his index finger and thumb. The act once again revealed the rune that was tattooed on his palm. Black ink with an even darker meaning.
“Very good, Merrow, and tell me… what is a Sea Raven?”
Eyes fixed on the tattoo—its implications weighed heavily on her chest. The knight let out a sharp whistle to regain her attention.
“A harbinger of death,” she replied with as little emotion as possible.
The corner of his lip turned up, and his heated gaze fell to her neck. Despite the neutrality she forced into her features, her rapid heartbeat betrayed her. He hummed in agreement and then his expression became thoughtful.
“I realized something…” He paused, soaking in the silence while Emer held her breath. “Is it that you are not curious or have you already determined what it is that I have come to realize?”
Initially, she was confused by his question, but as he took a bite of bread from the plate his meaning became clear.
She watched him consume another bite of the food. Her food.
“I admit that I admire your boldness, but I cannot encourage it. So, you can answer my questions or go hungry. It’s your choice,” he stipulated.
There was no smile present as he lifted his chin and waited for her response. She turned her gaze from him, unwilling to let him see the hurt in her eyes as she took measure of the hollowness in her stomach. A forced choice was not a choice, and while the hunger aches would grow stronger, it would not overcome the strength of her will.
“You do realize, the more you resist speaking to me, the more suspicious you become.” His candor struck her with surprise but it was quickly replaced by annoyance.
“Do your actions not hold the same weight?” she hissed.
He laughed. It was empty and cold.
“If there is not a knife currently in your boot, I will sincerely apologize for my actions ,” his voice dripped with pride as her eyes widened.
He clicked his tongue in admonishment as he leaned forward. “Did you think I would leave you in a room with a weapon if I didn’t think I could easily disarm you?” he taunted.
For fuck ’ s sake!
“Why even leave it at all?” she sneered.
“Curiosity.” He shrugged. “You’re not the first of your people to mask ruthless intent with fabricated distress. Though you are, perhaps, the first to attempt it in a dress.”
Her face contorted in anger and her lips twisted to prevent herself from saying something she might regret.
“Now that you have proven my point and will be receiving no apology, I would like to have my knife back.”
He held out his hand and Emer fantasized about all the ways she could wipe that grin off his face, but ultimately, she knew it would end poorly for her.
Holding his stare, she pulled the knife from her boot.
“Careful,” he warned.
The seven Elders themselves could have appeared in that room and demanded she hand it over and she still would not have given him the satisfaction. Raising the dagger, she swiftly threw it to her right, piercing the map fastened to the wall and embedding it deep into the wood, ensuring it struck straight through Obanes. Finn would have been proud and that thought made Emer smirk. When she looked back to Calder, her smile fell.
He rose from his chair with preternatural grace, allowing his arm to brush hers as he passed. The contact was so brief and yet so charged with menace that it seared into her skin. She felt each footfall of his boots in her bones and could not hide her startle at the sound of him freeing the knife from the wall. Everything inside her screamed for her to run from the predator that stalked forward. When he returned to stand in front, she turned away, driven by obstinance and fear.
The press of cold metal beneath her jaw was featherlight, the blade only a kiss.
“Eyes on me, Merrow.” His words were like smoke, warm against the side of her face, and she choked on the breath that lodged in her throat.
He slowly redirected her gaze back to his, careful not to break the skin. He lowered his face until their noses almost touched. “Don’t ever look away from me like that. Understand?” he cautioned.
The intimate distance kept her silent as she stared back into the heated pools of his eyes. When she didn’t answer, he raised his brow in warning. She nodded, noticing that he pulled back the blade slightly to allow the movement. Even as she watched him step away, he did not seem to make a sound. A wraith of a man sent only to haunt her. The door creaked as he opened it, and he paused in the doorway.
“You will find you’ll not like me as an enemy,” he warned.
The strangled cry of the lock falling into place was all the encouragement she needed to fold into herself. Standing against the intensity of his scrutiny made her and what little energy she had remaining feel insufficient. She knew she needed to continue searching the room as she would need to strategize how to escape, but she allowed herself another private moment to be afraid.