Chapter 12
O utside, the bedlam persisted.
Inside, Emer paced anxiously.
Each croak that sounded frayed her nerves a little more. Ominous cackling, as if the birds were laughing at something she would find no humor in. These ravens did not feel like the white one she encountered on the shore.
Birds were supposed to bring songs, memories of morning, and warm sun. These creatures seemed more akin to dragons than birds, with their giant black forms, sweeping shadows, and piercing cries. She suspected they were the very things that gave birth to the concept of the giant winged beasts. Their presence felt equally odd and threatening; although she only caught a glimpse of Calder after the ravens arrived, she was confident by the set of his jaw that this was not a regular occurrence.
Were they here to serve as an omen or was their swift descent on the keep an answer to a call?
Emer turned to the door just as Calder placed two firm knocks against the wood—an announcement of his arrival rather than a request to enter.
His hand was visible first. Fingers, tacky with blood, gripped the door’s edge as it opened. Darker stains marred the valleys between his veins and she quickly realized the shallow cuts that dusted his knuckles were the product of Dempsey’s teeth.
As the rest of Calder’s tall form entered the room, her eyes shot to his. She was unsure if she had stopped the gasp that formed or if her body betrayed her and let shock spill from her without permission.
Only the faintest remnants of the gaze she had come to know remained. His pupils were blown out, the black laying siege to the blue. With her focus trained on Calder, Emer failed to notice the second set of steps trailing him.
Banner cleared his throat, leaning against the door frame with an impatient smirk as if waiting for an invitation. The two men shared a look, and Banner proceeded into the room, closing the door behind him.
Once inside, his gaze alternated between Calder and Emer before he looked down, releasing a huff of a laugh.
Emer, puzzled by his reaction, took an uneasy step back.
Calder suspected he knew exactly why Banner was laughing and fully intended to discuss it with him later. Perhaps in the Den.
Lacking little in the way of confidence and roguish charm, Banner adjusted his satchel and moved across the room with an arm outstretched to Emer. A hand slammed into him, causing him to pause. Banner’s smile curled into a slightly sharper version as he studied Calder’s hand pressed against the center of his chest.
Eyes still on Emer, Calder tilted his head in that ever-familiar predatory fashion. After a moment, his glare dipped to the lantern on the chair behind her. The one her fingers were now possessively hooked over the handle of.
Calder tsked.
“Merrow, were you about to bludgeon poor Banner with that lantern?” His voice contained all the light that was absent from his eyes.
She was not entirely sure what she intended to do with the opportunistic weapon, but she quickly learned that while Calder had boundaries he would not cross when it came to her, others in the keep did not. A heavy object to the head seemed a reasonable way to establish them.
A small and incriminating growl left her as she released the lantern. With her hands now in fists, she narrowed her eyes on the stranger.
“Well then,” Banner said delightedly.
He appraised her once more, his eyes surveying her and pausing at her wounded hands and shoulder. After a moment, he nodded as if approving of the half-wild girl before him.
“Banner,” he said, introducing himself.
When Emer did not take his hand, he pulled it back with a snap of his fingers. Her expression was unimpressed and highly suspicious. Seemingly immune to the blonde’s charm.
“He’s here as a favor, Merrow. Try to play nice,” Calder said in an exasperated tone, his hands flexing at his sides. With the bloodlust beginning to simmer, the trauma he inflicted on his hands started to seep in.
“I don’t need a nursemaid,” she said with a scowl.
“Shame. I have great bedside manner,” Banner cooed almost absentmindedly as he rummaged through his satchel.
Calder’s hand swiftly connected with the back of Banner’s head.
“Fuck’n shit!” he grunted, wincing from the impact.
Banner cracked his neck to the side. There was less levity in his voice when he explained, “What I meant was, I happen to be quite talented in my line of work. A connoisseur of concoctions, if you will.”
Moving to the table near Emer, Banner began retrieving various herbs, cloths, and jars.
“Based on the one on your shoulder, Calder was right to be worried about the state of your wounds. Have you seen what happens when something like that gets infected?” he asked, tipping his head and acknowledging her wounds while he continued to gather his things.
Emer eyed Calder questioningly.
“Oh. Sorry, boss, was that a secret?” Banner flashed him a smile over his shoulder, proving that he may not have been able to strike Calder back, but there were other methods of cruelty in his arsenal.
Emer glanced at her hands, uncurling her fingers slightly to inspect the wounds. The salve Calder had given her helped, but they remained irritated. The deep gouge that ran down her index finger seemed redder than the others. While she was not particularly pleased to accept help from either of them, she could recognize the signs of infection. As much as she disliked the men, she was fond of her hands. So, she sighed and nodded in consent.
“Good,” Calder said gruffly. “I am going to wash up. Stay with her until I return,” he commanded before storming out of the room.
Emer’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected him to leave her alone, and she stared at the space he had vacated, swallowing the desire to call him back.
Banner shook his head, muttering something before looking back to her and smiling.
“Would you care to sit?” he asked, motioning to the chair.
“No,” she responded curtly.
“A woman who knows what she wants. I respect that. Okay then… well, I’ll just…” he motioned his intent to step closer to where she stood. “Parents were healers. Well, Ma is. Was. Pa ran the pub. I inherited a knack for the art. Along with a penchant for poisons.”
She was struck by his nonchalance and eyed him suspiciously.
“You can guess which I get the most requests for but diversified skill sets are valuable,” he said with a shrug. “May I?” he asked, holding out his hands .
Emer cautiously extended her hand, ensuring the lantern was still within reach.
“Elders’ tits!” he exclaimed, which he quickly followed with an apology. “What exactly did you pick a fight with to earn those?” he asked, adding the contents of several of the bottles to a stone bowl.
“A tree,” Emer muttered.
Banner made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
“Did you lose a bet or were you just gloriously drunk?” he asked.
Emer narrowed her eyes at him. The casual way he made conversation with her made her want to like him, and she had no intention of allowing that.
“I don’t like you,” she said flatly.
Banner shot her a grin before continuing his work.
“Give it time,” he returned confidently.
Emer looked back to the door, rocking from foot to foot as she considered how long it had been since Calder left, and how long it would likely be before he returned.
“Did he really not tell you?” she asked, uneasy in the silence.
“I only learned you existed a few moments before we knocked on your door,” he explained. There was a slight air of annoyance in his tone that caused her to wonder if he was bothered by the secret or her captivity.
“Is this so normal that you just came? No questions asked?” she pressed.
Another chuckle left him as he searched the satchel for additional additives. Pouring what looked like honey into the bowl, he began mixing the contents. “This is most definitely not normal. And when he tells you something… you listen. Well, perhaps not you … but the sane folk do. Or so I am told.”
His brow jumped as he met her gaze like they were sharing a joke and Emer didn’t know what to make of the gesture. It was warm and genuine.
The sweet smell of the dried flowers, subtle spices, and honey filled the air. As Banner applied the mixture to her wounds, all Emer could do was frown in confusion at the care he took as he did.
“Rub some on your shoulder and neck,” he instructed.
Turning his attention to his satchel, Banner pulled out clean strips of cloth to wrap her hands. As he tied the cloth, Emer grimaced and he apologized, loosening the knot to relieve some of the pressure. Despite their appearance, the mixture made them feel better than they had in days.
“Are you magic?” Emer asked him with a relieved sigh.
“First, you try to beat me, and now sweet talking? You tryin’ to seduce me, little monster?” Banner teased.
At Emer’s shocked expression, he continued, “It’s not magic, but I did learn a lot from witches.”
Emer nodded, her lips a perfect “o”.
Amused, Banner returned to his task. His hands were calloused, likely from swordplay and hard labor, but there was also an elegant fluidity to his movements. She leaned in closer, her gaze snagging on the dark half-moons of his nail beds.
“You can tell a lot about someone by their hands,” he mused, not bothering to pause his work. “Smiths have burns. Bakers can never seem to clean off the flour. Artists have paint under their nails. Men whose medium is poison have small dark moons to match our cold little hearts,” he explained with a grin.
She should have been disturbed, but with the care he continued to take in tending to her wounds, she found herself curious instead.
“What do mine say?” she asked.
At this, a thin line formed in his brow as he considered her hands, old and new injuries, the slight tremor against his steady grip. “That you love as fiercely as you fight and as deeply as you fear.”
Unwelcomed emotion gnawed at her and she pulled her hand away, opting to finish tying off the final strip herself .
“I jumped out of the window,” she said, reminding herself of how she came to be marked by this place more than she was explaining to Banner. She wanted to call back her anger in hopes that there would not be room for the sadness that began to pool behind her eyes and drip down her throat.
Banner’s eyebrow raised in interest. Perhaps he would be willing to help her with more than just her cuts and scrapes. The thought made her feel dirty somehow, as though it were an act of betrayal. However, just because Calder punished Dempsey for wronging her, that did not absolve him of his own offenses.
“Your beloved Calder has kept me prisoner for three days. These were the result of my first escape attempt. I jumped out of a keep window and onto the tree in the courtyard,” she explained, infusing the appropriate amount of despondence into her voice.
Banner’s posture stiffened and he shifted his shoulders. When he turned and began tidying his things, Emer bit down her frustration at his lack of response. She opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted.
“That is not quite the whole truth. Now, is it?” Calder’s voice sounded from the door.
Banner’s lip twitched as Emer glared.
“I think I touched on the most important parts,” she spat back.
“I would argue that you stabbing me with my own sword was pretty important,” he said, pointing to his side as if she needed the reminder.
“So, that horseshit explanation for why you’ve needed multiple jars of poultices was… lies? ” Banner’s tone indicated that he had not believed any of the excuses Calder gave him in the first place.
Leaning in closer to Emer, Banner whispered, “You really stab him?”
Emer growled.
Banner leaned back and turned to Calder, grinning. “She stabbed you?” he asked, pointing between the two of them .
When he nodded in confirmation, Banner released a low whistle. “I like her,” he chuckled, and now it was Calder’s turn to growl.
“Don’t you have a perimeter to check?” he asked impatiently.
Banner shrugged and then began packing his items into his satchel.
“Thank you, Banner,” Emer sighed, disappointed that she would most likely receive no further help from him.
He paused, his smile shifting and his features softening as he regarded her. He nodded before making his way to stand in front of Calder expectantly. Calder rolled his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth.
The resistance to offer gratitude seemed to only delight the man more, and he rocked on his heels.
The fact that Calder had not struck him unconscious demonstrated that the pair had some modicum of mutual respect for each other, and Emer wondered if perhaps the Sea Raven was not as broody as she once suspected.
Banner had just reached the door when Calder called his name. “Yes, sir… ‘Disembowelment, slow painful death, picked clean by ravens’… I recall… I won’t breathe a word. But just so you know, you owe me two drinks now,” he said with a rakish smirk and a wink at Emer.
They remained silent as Banner exited the room, and when she turned back to Calder, she rolled her eyes.
Most definitely broody.