Chapter 23
T he closer to Murdoch they drew, the more distant Calder became. Securing his mask into place as the moon secured its place amongst the stars. A mask mirrored after his father—the mask of the Morvran.
Soon, storm clouds loomed overhead, darkening the sky with the same somber gray that seemed to be reflected in his eyes. Rain began to fall just as the loch came into view, and Emer turned over her shoulder, ready to share in the relief that their long ride was ending, but found he had stopped Danu and was several paces back. She called his name through the heavy sheet of rain, but his eyes remained fixed on the town beyond her.
“We can’t take the main road,” he bellowed once he reached her side.
The admission made her go slack, and a crack of lightning illuminated the confusion in her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that… I said stealing, didn’t I?” he reminded with audible frustration. “We’ll navigate through the wooded areas to where my cottage lies on the outskirts,” he explained.
He held Emer’s gaze, waiting for her to challenge him but instead he saw the moment she understood that his search to find his mother’s killer had been driven by more than revenge. He knew from the way her eyes softened that she understood how badly he wanted to return home and this was not how it was meant to happen.
She nodded and followed him off the trail and into the trees.
The shadowy forms that loomed in the distance took shape and revealed themselves to be the ships that called the loch home. Their rich wooden structures were at peace, nestled amongst each other.
Calder searched the once familiar landscape for some sign that it felt his absence, even if only marginally to how he felt it.
It looked the same.
“Why are there no guards preventing us from continuing? Strange that we would be able to arrive unnoticed,” she asked, staring out into the silent and sleeping town.
Calder’s breath formed tiny wisps in the cold night air as he responded, “Because it is highly unlikely that anyone would be insane enough to sneak into this village.”
Holding up his clenched fist, he signaled to stop before dismounting and approaching Aven. The tap on Emer’s thigh felt muted by the cold that invaded her muscles. Emer’s boots sank into the mud and Calder firmly held her hand as he led her across the rugged terrain. Cautiously, they made their way closer to the structure that bordered the tree line, navigating through greedy limbs.
After removing the boards that covered the window, Calder motioned Emer to step forward so he could hoist her through the opening.
Inside the cottage and bathed in darkness, Emer’s hand collided with something, knocking it to the floor and startling her. Firm hands gripped her sides as the breath of air she knocked from Calder crashed against her neck.
“Sorry,” she whispered .
Calder cleared his throat before saying, “Do us both a favor and don’t move.”
She felt him pass her and move into the space he once called home. The telltale sound of Ravenstone being struck preceded a soft glow from the far side of the room. The modest flame then traveled slowly, forming a second. Candles in hand, Calder returned to where Emer stood, offering one to her and then motioning her further into the home. His home.
Though still largely in darkness, they began to take in the room now revealed by the candlelight. Furniture was sparse, aside from the necessities, and everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. As with the man who stood in the center, slowly and segment by segment, the larger picture began to take shape. The main living area led into two other smaller areas—a bathing room and a sleeping area.
Calder swept through the back room, collecting various items, casting enough light to show the unmade bed that looked like he had only left days ago rather than years. Intense exhaustion overwhelmed Emer, and she imagined what it would be like to lie on that bed. Blinking quickly, she looked away and began to survey the rest of the living area.
The Calder of before had not shied away from clutter and chaos. Maps, books, and bits of scrap parchment were littered throughout. Emer thumbed through stiff papers, maps, and port notes. Pulling out what looked to be a design for a ship.
“ The Ceasg ,” she read aloud.
Lost in thought, she had not noticed that he now loomed behind her. Moving his candle towards the parchment in her hand, he let the flame catch the corner, and they watched as the fire slowly ate at the thoughts and dreams of his former self. He pulled it from her hand before the flames could lick her skin and stomped out the ashes with his heavy boots. Looking over her shoulder, she searched for the Calder from those pages .
“There are enough ghosts here, Merrow. Don’t search for more,” he said, tipping his chin towards the window.
Calder exited first, setting down the sack of supplies before returning to Emer, who was already easing herself down from the sill. His hand found her hips, and he halted rather than slowed her descent. She remained suspended before him for a moment. His lips parted to speak, but all that left him was a pained grunt.
Stumbling forward, he dropped Emer, revealing the man who had struck him. Two others appeared from the shadows, grabbing his arms as he fought violently against them. A fourth reached for Emer.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” he snarled.
Calder drove his forehead into the nose of one man before pulling his arm free and throwing his fist into the jaw of the other.
“Stand down by order of the Morvran,” he commanded, lunging towards Emer before he was once again restrained.
There was an audible sigh in the quiet that followed before one of the men said, “Wish we could, sir. But we have different orders.”
Standing in the village center, Emer watched as the rain fell against her boots and the puddle beneath them grew murky with mud. The four men who detained them stood shoulder to shoulder at their backs—a wall of stone and steel. In the distance, two additional men led Aven and Danu away.
Ahead marched a petite woman who moved like smoke, so unbothered by the rain it was as if it didn’t touch her. She wore leather leggings and a pale tunic cinched to her waist thanks to a dark leather corset and Emer wondered if she was afraid, envious, or in love.
“Hello, brother,” Lina said icily.