Chapter 17
A lthough Emer had left the waking world alone, she was embraced by a foreign warmth that hinted that was no longer the case. Her eyes burst open with a gasp, and she found the familiar pale blue eyes looking back at her. If she had any doubts that the white raven was a co-conspirator in her suffering, they were gone now.
A silent sob parted her lips at the cruelty of it. Even with the price she paid for saving Calder, it was not enough to purchase her freedom from him.
She did not need to look around the room to know he was there. It was evident in the heaviness of the atmosphere. Emer continued to stare at the haunting, white harbinger perched on her boot, who watched her with an innocent curiosity as if he had not just damned her for the second time. When Calder remained silent, Emer slowly turned to where she knew he lurked.
Boots crossed at the ankles on the table, Calder leaned back casually in one of the chairs. “We need to talk. Also, good morning.”
Anger pooled like molten metal in her chest. Hot and heavy.
“Has anyone ever told you that the gold flecks of your eyes seem brighter when you are afraid?” There was a roughness to his voice that reminded her of the stones on the shore. Then he added, “Or is that anger?”
Each word cut across her skin and brought blood and indignation to the surface. Holding her breath, she assessed the likely outcomes that awaited her. She died slowly in three of the five that flashed across her mind. In the fourth, she died quickly. In one scenario, however, she at least made it out of the cottage.
Calder cocked his head as her muscles tensed in anticipation of her escape.
“It’s rather adorable, you know,” he cooed, drawing her attention back from the vine-covered window. “That you think you can run from me. It’s delusional, of course. But, admittedly, adorable all the same.”
The mirth in his voice caused nervous energy to thrum through her.
He was positioned in a way that made it difficult to escape through either the door or the window on the far wall, but another route was available that he would be unable to follow. Emer looked between the exits and then back to him.
“Please don't.” He tipped his head back slightly. His expression pleading.
She turned away, her mouth pinched into a thin line as she dropped her head. The act, while it looked submissive, was anything but. Her eyes locked on the rotted floor of the cottage. Pushing off the wall, she dove towards the opening, unbothered by the veil of cobwebs and plant life. Calder darted up. The quiet cottage filled with his curses and the sound of the chair tumbling across the floor. No sooner had her fingers dug into the dirt below the boards did a firm arm wrap around her side and pull her back.
The impact of her spine against the floor was more shocking than painful, however, the surprise did little to discourage her resistance. Emer began to kick wildly but Calder thrust his thigh between her legs, pinning her body to the ground with his own .
Before the fist she raised to strike him could land, Calder had her wrist pinned above her head, rendering her defenseless.
Emer continued to writhe beneath him, but the more she fought, the further he pressed her to the floor, caging her with his body.
“What is your plan, huh? Keep running until you find something that finally kills you?” he grunted as she bucked her hips up, still attempting to dislodge herself. “Answer me, Emer!”
She felt his roar vibrate through his chest pressed against her own. His free hand now hooked around the side of her neck, his thumb pressed under her jaw, forcing her gaze to his.
“Anything could have found you in this cottage. Do you not understand that? If you need to fight something, fine. Fight me. But for fuck’s sake, stop running.”
Emer stilled beneath him. Her vision blurred with tears as she looked up into his dark eyes, greedily searching hers.
The room fell silent apart from their heavy collective breaths, which caused the small space between them to grow heated.
“I won’t let you keep me,” she said with finality.
Calder’s head dipped to the crook of her neck, the ends of his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “I know,” he murmured before lifting his head and returning his stare.
He released his hold and rolled off her, resting on his back at her side.
“I’m not here to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.” There was raw honesty to his words, with the spaces between them woven with resentment. “And I’m not going to turn you in either.”
Emer shook her head slowly from side to side. A sharp, broken laugh escaped her lips and he stared at her in surprise. As her slightly maniacal giggle persisted, his features twisted with concern. Sensing his confusion, she threw her hands up and then rubbed her face, muffling her hysterics.
“What is the point of all this then? Did you return for an apology… a thank you?” When she looked at him, her eyes were red and her expression was pained.
“I know you must be here out of duty to the family you love. Just as I kept you out of duty to mine. Depending on the story’s telling, love can make someone the hero or the villain,” Calder said in answer.
“Or just the monster,” Emer whispered.
Had she struck something vital when she attacked him? It was the only explanation for his strange behavior and rambling thoughts.
“My mother was from the Isle of Rest.”
His statement was brief but weighted in a way she could not appreciate at first. Her lips parted to speak, but paused, extending the silence as an offering.
“So was her murderer. They wrote to her asking for help. They preyed on her kindness.”
She felt an inexplicable burning in her throat. Still, she fought against her need to provide words of sympathy, sensing that he had more to share. She was struck by the realization that she was also desperate to understand.
“It is no secret that I have hunted for her killer for years. When I saw you on the shore that day, I was confident you were there to taunt me. Somehow sent to mock my pain or possibly to tempt history to repeat itself. When she was smuggled back to Isle Basalt by the man she had fallen in love with, my father, they landed on that exact shore.”
Her gaze remained fixed to the ceiling, fearful that even the slightest movement would banish whatever spell had been cast over them.
“I hated you. Hated you for how much you made me feel just by existing.”
Emer replayed their interactions back in her mind in rapid succession. How she treated him when he found her. How she stabbed him with his own sword. The unsent letter. Each moment looked so different to her now. Every wound she inflicted against him was for the sake of her father’s life and every punishment he imposed on her was retribution for his mother’s death. Neither had been the hero or the villain. They were just two broken children.
“I’m here for my father.” The confession left her before she consciously decided to tell him, but she pressed on. “He is dying.”
He nodded solemnly.
“I was wrong to think you were my penance for failing my mother. I think you may actually be my redemption.”
Emer turned her head sharply to find he was already looking at her and was instantly paralyzed. The suspicion that once resided in his eyes was now replaced by something different.
Sympathy.
Understanding.
But the change between them went beyond that, more profound and unseen.
“You… you want to help me?” her voice shook with uncertainty, and as soon as the words left her, she felt foolish.
“I do,” he replied.
“But you don’t even know what it is I'm meant to do,” she remarked with a shake of her head.
“Now would be a good time to tell me then, don’t you think?” he said smirking and drawing himself off the ground.
This time, he did not offer his dominant hand, the hand marked with the rune for death. Instead, he extended his left—a rune for peace resting in his palm.
Emer slipped her hand into his, and just as she began to smile, her expression fell.
“Dempsey.”
It was as much of a confession as she would allow herself regarding what she had done.
“Such a shame really. Being labeled a deserter is punishable by death. Although a little bird told me that it is likely he was running from the Northerners, to whom he was known to owe quite a large sum.” Calder’s voice was steady and his gaze firm.
Emer’s lips parted to protest, but Calder raised his hand slowly and placed the tips of his fingers just in front of her lips, not daring to touch her.
He allowed the moment to linger before adding more softly, “He will not be missed.”
Though she could not deny the relief she felt at the realization that she would not be hunted as a murderess, a sickening ache formed in the pit of her stomach.
“Dempsey just disappeared. You left. And no one questioned you?” She could hardly believe that there would not be an inquest that would lead straight to them. Particularly after the condition in which he left the training drills earlier that day.
A familiar smirk appeared on his face, the fiendish smile he had when he first locked her in his room. “I said you did not need to fear me, not that I wasn’t worthy of fear.”
This caused her to wonder if no one questioned him because they truly believed the ruse he had crafted or if they simply feared his wrath.
“And what are the repercussions of displeasing the dreaded Calder?” she asked, partially in jest but primarily out of genuine curiosity.
“Be glad you will never know that horror.”
Calder made his way over to the cottage corner and retrieved a satchel and two bedrolls.
Emer had cursed him, cut him, struck him, and he brought her a bed. She would have scoffed at his confidence in being able to find her if she wasn’t trying to ignore the strange sensation in her chest at his kindness. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to distract from the unwelcome emotions.
He cautiously began his journey back, keeping his eyes on the distrusted floor, but paused when he looked back at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a frown, a bedroll under each arm .
“Just tired,” she said quickly.
He grunted in agreement, rolling out the covers. He dropped a satchel filled with provisions and motioned for her to sit.
“I’m exhausted and my back is fucked. I propose we rest for the day. You can tell me where we are headed and we’ll start fresh in the morning,” he suggested as he stretched himself out over the bedroll that was concerningly close to the other. She hesitated.
So much time had already lapsed and Emer was hardly any closer to reaching the Well, but her chances of getting there in one piece were far better with Calder and a clear head. She nodded and sat down on the bedroll at his side.
“Eat,” he said gruffly as he tossed an apple at her and then began to tear at a piece of bread. Rolling the round fruit between her palms, she struggled to acclimate to the new roles they’d inherited.
“Are there a lot of you?” she asked.
“There is no one like me, Merrow,” he said, turning his head towards her and giving a wink.
“A lot of Ravens ?” she clarified with only a slight glare.
“There are enough,” he answered vaguely.
“And you aren’t just a Sea Raven, are you?” she asked, picking at the apple that now rested in her lap.
At this, Calder rose to his elbow, angling his chest towards her, watching her as he slowly chewed his last bite of bread. After a moment, he shook his head, unable to hide the smile that formed from watching her nervously fidget with her fruit.
Emer recalled his previous comments about those bowing to his command. All of the letters from people wanting… or rather needing his approval. How he could leave the keep without earning questions even if he had earned suspicion.
When she met his gaze, he watched her expectantly, and she was acutely aware that he had been waiting for this moment and that whatever she was about to learn was a secret only to her.
“Calder… Morvran?” she asked on the exhale. Amazed and sl ightly embarrassed that it took her this long to see what he had been trying to show her.
He was not a member of the Morvran clan.
Calder was their leader.
“I can’t decide which is more delicious. The look on your face or the sound of my name on your lips.” He slid his tongue along his teeth, pressing it into his canine. “I feel as though I am at a disadvantage now….” He let his words trail off, leaving space for Emer’s answer.
“Réaltaí.”
“Emer Réaltaí, ” he echoed.
The quiet reverence of his voice made her name sound like a secret, a poem, a spell of unknown magic that demanded it be spoken with care. For a moment, she found herself wondering what things would have been like if she had allowed him to speak it that day on the shore. Regaining her focus, she said, “You know, the men in my village tell stories about you and the terrible things you’ve done.”
Calder’s expression fell, but before he could defend himself against whatever the stories she’d heard were, she let out an amused chuckle, which then grew into a genuine laugh.
Emer looked at him carefully, trying to reconcile the monster she had heard tales of and the man sitting in front of her picking a fallen leaf from her sleeve.
“The Sea Raven who brings death on his wings.” She repeated the phrase she once heard from a man who was surrounded by several empty mugs of ale.
“Well… that is totally inaccurate,” he scoffed. “I prefer the devilishly handsome Sea Raven who brings death on his wings and monsters in his wake,” he grinned. “Tell me more about these ‘terrible things’ I'm supposed to have done?” he asked, returning to his back like a child preparing for a bedtime story.
“I’m sure you have heard them,” she remarked, finally taking a bite from her apple .
“I have not heard them from you,” he pressed, pulling a wineskin from his satchel. “An incentive,” he explained, handing it to her.
She removed the stopper and breathed in the pleasant smell of mead. After taking a drink, she returned the stopper and steepled her hands beneath her chin as she thought.
“Burnt down a village?” she asked.
“True, but grossly lacking context,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Drinks the blood of his enemies.” Her nose wrinkled.
“Not intentionally,” he responded with a slight smile as she gave a disturbed shake.
“Just accidentally when you were ripping people’s throats out with your teeth?”
Calder laughed, pulling the wineskin from her lap and taking a long pull. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplated. “An interesting tactic. Care for a demonstration?” his words came out like a purr and she felt her eyes grow wide at the suggestion. When he leaned forward, she simply cleared her throat and changed the subject.
“Whores in every port?” she questioned and then watched his expression very carefully.
“I hardly think I've been to every port,” he said with a sly grin.
Back and forth they went. Emer quickly found that the apple was no match for the mead as it went straight to her head. She grew sleepy, and when she closed her eyes, she saw a flash of the rocks below the cliff painted in red. Her eyes flew open again and she took another drink, thankful for the mead. Despite the fact that it was the Morvran she found as her company, she was grateful for that too.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Ask me, Merrow,” he commanded.
“Do you regret any of the people you have killed?” she asked in a brittle voice.
“None,” he said without hesitation .
Emer nodded thoughtfully.
“Do you?” He considered his question. “Let me ask it differently. Who would you rather be alive, me or Dempsey? If you knew only one of us was walking away from that cliff with you, would you have chosen me or Dempsey?”
Emer swallowed down her surprise at the slight shift in Calder’s expression and the uncertainty in his eyes.
“You,” she finally said in a whisper.
“Remind yourself that when you fight. It’s either you, them, or someone you love. For me, it’s not even a choice,” he said more softly and Emer wondered how many times he had made that not-choice.
“Does that scare you?” he asked, the tension returning to his jaw.
Her eyes softened as she said, “Of the men who can be monsters and the beasts who masquerade as men, I’m only afraid of the latter.”
“With a monster by your side, you have no need to fear beasts,” he replied.
She blushed.
He grinned.