Chapter 13
E ven with Banner’s departure, the room felt smaller with Calder in it.
He shook his head subtly as he watched her, an answer to a conversation he had not bothered to include her in.
Emer’s glare intensified.
When Calder grinned in response, there was an edge to it—more snarl than smile.
Finally, he said, “So, first you attempt to beat him with a lantern, and then… what? Pretend to be helpless in the hopes that he would be moved to help you escape?” he scoffed. “Believable, given that you jumped. Into. A. Tree.”
His brow arched in challenge or disappointment, she couldn’t tell. She was angry with him, but more than that, she was angry with herself for caring that he was angry.
Emer closed her eyes as she worked to calm the building thrum, her body growing heated from the storm of emotions and doubt. When she opened them she found Calder’s obstinate glare pinning her down, plucking at her already frayed nerves as if it produced his favorite melody.
Perhaps the Raven wished to build a nest from them .
“Why would you care if I tried? Do you not trust your men?” she spat back. Something flashed in his eyes too quickly for her to track it.
He shook his head again.
“I thought you were smarter than this, Merrow. You may pretend to be a damsel, but Banner was the one who tricked you into thinking he had a heart to appeal to. Don’t play with monsters, sweetheart. You won’t win,” he said with a sharp smile.
She wanted to throw things.
She wanted to rip her hair out.
No, she wanted to rip his hair out.
One of the ravens outside croaked, and this time, they both winced.
“Grab your cloak and follow me.” His voice was tense and left no room for rebuttal. Emer, however, was as stubborn as she was petite.
“Why would I do that?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Because thirteen ravens just descended on this keep. Because Death is not far behind them. But most obviously because I… fucking… said so.” He punctuated the last words with a commanding step forward.
By the time he finished the statement, he had crossed the room.
“The Isle is hungry today, Merrow, don’t offer yourself up so sweetly just to spite me.”
Emer could feel how true his words were in the strange energy in the air. She could hear it in the incessant warning of the winged beasts outside the window and see it in the slightly wild look in Calder’s eyes.
The Isle was hungry, and it had a taste for her.
“What do the ravens mean?” The trepidation in Emer’s voice betrayed her.
“I will tell you if you put on your coat and come with me.”
Understanding that she would be going with him either way, she opted to make it easier for them both. She took her cloak from his grasp and followed him out of the room.
The cries of the ravens crawled down the corridors, clinging and sweeping across the stones like cobwebs.
Once outside the keep, Emer strained to keep up with Calder’s determined footfalls. She had hoped that in his distraction, she might be able to create enough distance to make an escape, but the moment her steps slowed, he shot her a glare over his shoulder.
As they rounded to the back of the keep, Emer was struck speechless by the rocky cliff that appeared. The short journey resulted in their arrival to an entirely different realm. The landscape of Obanes looked as if kindness fell in love with violence. Her soft fields and whimsical trees wrapped themselves around the hardness of the rocks and sharp cliffs.
The whistle of the harsh wind against the rock face beckoned her to it, and Emer found herself walking to the edge without further thought.
Calder tensed as she reached the drop-off. He had not lied. Death was there and he had no way of knowing who it would claim.
The air around them was thick—almost sticky—and cold. Emer struggled against the hood that was obscuring her vision, the weight of it growing increasingly oppressive. She pulled it back, and the powerful wind immediately set free her hair. In its natural state, it fell to Emer’s hip bones and usually warranted containment with a messy plait or unruly knot. At this moment, there was no containing it, the sunlight catching the streaks of copper and turning them to flames fed by the wind.
It was unclear if the roar of the sea had managed to drown out the emptiness in her chest or if it banished it altogether, but she relished the feeling. She turned to Calder, only to find him watching her.
“What did you mean?” she shouted into the wind, emboldened by its wildness. “About death and the ravens. ”
“Thirteen ravens is an omen. They mark the beginning of an end,” he explained, his jaw tight and his eyes cold. It was not fear that ruled his features but a strange sort of determination and a level of indignation.
As if Calder would defy the Elders themselves because they used his own totem for something he had not personally sanctioned.
She felt the birth of a laugh as she contemplated the level of conceit that would require, but she felt the sensation die in her chest as she pondered the implications of what he had said.
“That could mean many things,” she argued in a poor attempt at indifference.
“It could ,” he replied gruffly. “If I did not also feel Death growing closer.”
Emer took a step away from him, forgetting that she was near the edge of the cliff, and Calder flinched when her feet paused just short of the cliffside. Tipping his head back, he stared at the sky unable to remain impassive with Emer so close to the edge.
“You feel it?” she asked, her voice lost somewhere between disbelief and denial. “Sea Ravens sense it. Natural death feels like breathing in the winter air. Unnatural death makes our bones grow cold,” he explained.
Before Emer could ask what it felt like now, a shiver racked through him.
Unnatural.
Calder straightened his spine, pulled his shoulders back, and rolled his head between his shoulders as if trying to keep his bones from seizing.
“Why are we here, Calder?” Her voice was unintentionally pleading and heavy with the weight of the last few days.
His gaze grew sharp in response to her petition. As she searched the storm within his eyes, the damp wind at her back reminded her of the cliff and a fear that had begun to take root bloomed violently.
If Death was searching for a soul to claim, would its Raven offer her as a trade?
Heat began to surge through her as if her body hoped to protect her from the ice his stare formed in her veins.
“I don’t know,” he breathed, and for a moment, they stared at each other.
The loud rasp of a raven soaring above them pulled her attention from Calder and to the sky. She knew it was a mistake to leave herself vulnerable, but Emer looked up anyway. To her surprise, she did not find a dark, ominous raven looming above but a glimpse of ethereal white.
Slightly off balance, she teetered back but Calder caught her arm and pulled her away from the cliff and into his chest. The wind stopped and the waves quieted as her attention focused entirely on how her body molded to the hard lines of his.
He was the cliffside and she was the ocean, liquid and chaotic.
“Hide,” he growled.
“Wha—”
He pulled her past him and hurried her towards the edge of the keep. She could feel his stare burning her as she scrambled from the cliffside and to the wall, where she crouched amongst bushes covered in bursts of purple flowers. Almost as soon as she was concealed, she saw Dempsey emerge from around the corner and pause to stare viciously at Calder.
“You!” Dempsey’s voice tore through the air in a roar.
Calder stared at Dempsey with the same bored expression he always seemed to wear. A mask, Emer now realized.
Dempsey resumed his unsteady stride forward—evidence that he thought ale was the best remedy for his wounds.
The split and swollen lip.
The marred ridge of his eyebrow.
The deep purple and black stain on his cheekbone from the blood pooled beneath the surface. Those things were proof enough of the encounter with Calder, but it was the damaged look in his eyes that screamed of his defeat.
“How dare you!” he slurred as he stood in front of Calder, his voice guttural and harsh.
Calder raised a brow as he looked down at the man, admiring his work leisurely before meeting his eyes. “You chose to fight me,” he drawled, taking a step forward and eating up the small space between them. “You have only your own pride and wandering hands to blame.”
Dempsey threw his head back with a howl of a laugh.
“You’re a self-righteous bastard, you know that?” he yelled. “Judging me all the while protecting a foreign whore,” Dempsey barked, and the contortion of his face caused fresh blood to seep from his lip.
Calder tilted his head. “Protecting her ? Based on the skills you displayed today, I suspect I would have been protecting you from her if you had laid a hand on her.” His tone remained controlled, but something about Calder began to harden at the mention of Emer.
“Is that so?” Dempsey huffed. “I will be sure to bring someone along with me next time I look for her then . ”
Calder’s expression shifted; he bent his head until it was a breath from Dempsey, whose feet remained unmoved but body bent back. “I said I’d cut out your tongue for talking about her. I will let you ponder what I will do to you if you touch her.”
Even from a distance, Emer felt the grit in Calder’s voice.
“Walk away,” Calder warned.
He turned his back on Dempsey, who seethed at the dismissal.
Dempsey muttered parting words, but their meaning was lost in the howl of the wind against the cliff.
The relief Emer felt at the averted altercation would have surprised her if it were not quickly replaced by terror at the sight of the blade in Dempsey’s hand. He stood motionless a few paces from Calder, staring down at the knife and contemplating its weight.
This was her chance.
Dempsey had not yet seen her and Calder would soon be too occupied to pursue her. The harsh thought caused her stomach to twist. Had the Isle made her so cold that she could turn her back without a thought for the man who stood admiring the waves?
Her lips moved in silent pleas for Dempsey to sheath his blade, for Calder to turn around, for the Elders to intervene.
Dempsey turned and began to walk back to Calder.
If Emer wanted this to stop, she would have to stop it.
“Calder!” she screamed as Dempsey raised his knife.
Calder had been poised for Dempsey to attack, but as he whirled around and looked towards Emer, it was clear in the wild look in his eyes that he had not expected her to call out for him. That moment of distraction allowed Dempsey to achieve something he never had before. Dempsey gained the upper hand against him.
Knocking Calder to the ground, Dempsey leaped on top of him. They fought for purchase of the knife that was suspended above Calder. Dempsey used his weight to aid in the descent of the blade, and Calder, muscles tired from the morning’s sparring matches, fought to slow its path to his throat.
Calder turned from the blade, his eyes locking on Emer’s as he mouthed a single word.
“ Run .”
Dempsey followed Calder’s gaze to Emer and smiled. It was a crooked smile, his lips shaking from the effort it took to maintain control over the knife. He leaned down, whispering something in Calder’s ear.
Whether Dempsey’s mind was dulled with drink or the prospect of long-awaited retribution, he seemed to be lost to everything else, including Emer’s approaching footfalls .
Pain shot through her wrists and shoulders as she struck the large man, displacing him, and driving them both over Calder.
It was not until Emer stared down at the white waters of the waves crashing against the rocks beneath Dempsey’s suspended body that Emer realized just how close they had been to the edge. With no air in her lungs to send it forward, her scream died in her throat.
Dempsey’s grip on her wrist was a brand. He clung to her, dark eyes alight with fury and fear. If he was to meet this bitter fate, he would sweeten it by taking something of Calder’s with him.
A sharp pain raced up one of her legs and then the other. Tears pricked her eyes and she snapped them shut, waiting for the moment she no longer felt the ground beneath her chest… but it never came. She was not falling, she was being ripped in half.
Emer’s body jerked as Calder pulled, and Dempsey hissed curses and threats as he struggled to keep his hold on her bandaged hands, slick with Banner’s concoctions and her own fear. Slowly, everything unraveled.
They slipped.
He slipped.
Time slipped.