Chapter 28
S ecuring her satchel to Aven’s saddle, she brought the flap down, turning to see Calder exchanging hushed words with his sister. She had stared at his back enough from her days hidden beneath a hood to know he was not particularly pleased with the direction their conversation was going in.
Whatever the distressing topic had been was no longer being discussed by the time Emer approached. Lina greeted her with a smile that stopped short of her eyes.
“As sorry as I am for the cause of your journey, I am grateful that it brought you here. Even if it was not for as long as I would have liked,” she offered.
“Earlier, Calder told me about your talent, that you can see those nearing death in battle.” Emer’s eyes filled with a silent plea, and before she could answer, Lina nodded in understanding.
“When my mother died, I had not seen it. It felt like my chest was being ripped open. I had no evidence as to why I believed something happened to her… I just knew. I sent a raven to Calder, and he immediately began searching for her.”
Lina's hands found Emer’s .
“If your father was gone, I think you would know. Raven or not,” Lina advised with another firm squeeze.
Emer closed her eyes, thinking of her father. She imagined the place in her heart that warmed in his presence, the place that swelled when she made him proud, the place that ached when he became ill and she faced the potential of losing him. The place she was certain would be cut from her the moment she lost him.
Lina was right.
A daughter knows, Raven or not.
Aggie’s words crept back in, and Emer pressed a hand into her chest, each beat a grain of sand falling through the glass. They were running out of time.
Lina stepped away to address her brother.
“I’ve requested your cottage be prepared for your stay upon your return. Perhaps you will consider keeping our lovely friend here until after Samhain.”
Calder watched her through accusatory eyes—something wordless and heated passing between them. Unfazed by her brother’s fury, Lina added, “She could light the bonfire. That was always Mamaí’s favorite part. She would want Emer to do it.”
Gone was the boy Emer had watched in bed just that morning—this Calder was made of frost-covered stone. A thick tension settled, filling the quiet and cut only by the sharpness of Calder’s tone when he finally answered.
“No.”
A single word with an edge so sharp that Emer wanted to reel back to avoid its bite and a sting that would last disproportionately longer than it took to speak.
“Are we done?” he asked, and for a moment, it looked like Lina was going to argue, but instead, she dropped her head and stepped forward, hugging him stiffly.
“May the road rise up to meet you, brother,” Lina offered.
Hugging Emer next, Lina whispered softly, “Bring him back to us, okay? ”
Emer did not think Lina meant just from the Well, and another corner of her heart—an uncharted place not belonging to her family—ached.
Aggie’s words still lingered heavily as dusk fell over the realm and the darkness of the landscape matched that of Emer’s thoughts. Crestfallen, she tilted her head back, looking up at the moon and willing the tears she felt burning her eyes to not fall. As she blinked away the moisture, she could have sworn the clouds sharpened and shifted in the moonlight.
It was not uncommon for her imagination to paint the landscape with her anxiety, much the same way children saw monsters under their beds in the dead of night. However, this time, the monsters were not under her bed… they were in the sky, falling like cast-out stars.
“Calder?” she breathed at the exact moment he cursed, and Alabaster cried.
Looking around frantically, he shouted, “The trees. Get to the trees!”
Leaving the main path, Emer urged her horse into a full gallop. Calder steered Danu to Aven’s flank, racing alongside Emer and guiding her toward where the trees bowed to each other over the path, their union producing a shadowy fortress of limbs and leaves.
When Emer dared a look, dark forms with large wings dropped from the sky. “What are those!” she shrieked over the pounding of hooves and her heart.
“Sluagh,” Calder bellowed, his knuckles white against the reins.
“Sluagh! Aren’t they attracted to dying things? We are not dying things!” Emer reasoned, panic lacing her voice.
“They are here for me.”
Calder’s words almost stopped her in her tracks. Her head whipped to the side as she watched him through her wind-blown hair.
“But you… you’re not…” Emer stuttered.
“Little Bastard, Alabaster, isn’t a pet raven, Merrow. He is an intimus. The mark of a fractured soul,” he confessed, proving that his mother’s death had caused grief so profound that it attracted not only a creature meant to mend the damage but also the beasts that wanted to lap at the wounds.
Once inside the trees, Calder turned to Emer, whose blood was pounding in her ears and muting his voice.
“Merrow, listen to me. We need to separate. You ride down the tunnel, and I will lead them away,” he explained hurriedly.
Emer shook her head, fear so tight around her throat that she couldn’t speak her protest. Calder reached out and tugged on her reins, pulling her closer.
“Breathe,” he demanded, and she listened.
“I may hate Little Bastard with every bone in my fucking body for being a daily reminder of my grief, but the Sluagh cannot take my soul while he is watching over me. They can, however, hurt you. I will find you again, I promise,” he said firmly.
Before she could argue, Calder smacked Aven, sending them racing down the tunnel. She looked back just in time to see Calder breaking into the trees.
Peering into the darkness and waiting for her eyes to adjust, it felt as though the shadows peered back. Aven’s ears twitched and Emer had to fight to stay mounted as the horse began to rear and shift nervously. Large bodies flew overhead, searching for entry through the canopy. A terrible screeching from above cut through the gaps in the trees. Emer’s veins seized with ice at the realization that Calder had been wrong. They hadn’t come for him. It was her sadness they craved.
Deeper in the forest, where the trees were dense, Emer paused, listening for the sound of their wings and snarls. Instead, she heard a faint chime ring through the air, sharp and quick. In the distance, was the soft glow of what appeared to be a lantern illuminating someone lounging on their back across one of the lower branches that stretched over the path.
Although details of his features were obscured, reducing him to a lithe silhouette, it was clear his form was too large to be a woman and too elegant to be a Sluagh. One leg lazily hung from the branch, swinging along with the tune he was humming.
Above him, his long fingers idly curled and swept through the air as if playing an instrument, and the other hand absentmindedly flicked a coin into the air. A chime rang out each time he caught it.
Below him, the light was cast to the ground in beautiful shapes and a kaleidoscope of otherworldly colors. Emer was transfixed as the shapes swayed and moved over the ground.
The humming stopped.
Looking back at the man, his shadowy form now faced her, both legs hanging from the branches. He stared down with a predatory tilt of his head. Slowly, he leaned forward, allowing his youthful face to catch the lantern light. His angular features softened as he looked down and an amused smile tugged at his thin lips. Decidedly not monstrous, yet something in her soul trembled.
She had been so captivated by his unnatural eyes, the color of purple heather, and the mischief within them that it took her several long moments to take in the rest of his person. His skin was pale. It was not pale in the way that some look when ill but like moonlight, possessing a soft glow. His hair was silvery-white, falling over his forehead to his straight brow. While he looked only in his twenties, something about his gaze and the stories it seemed to hold made Emer wonder if he was much older.
What was most shocking about the stranger was not how utterly unique he was. It was not his striking beauty or how out of place he seemed amongst the branches. It was that he was no stranger at all.
The man who stared down at her was the same man who had taken the blow from the chair in the Alder Barrel, but before she could acknowledge the recognition, another shriek tore through the air. The Sluagh were getting closer.
Emer flinched at the sound, her breath catching in her lungs, and Aven again reared, almost throwing her off. The man reached his hand down to her, and without thinking, she accepted it, standing on Aven’s saddle before allowing him to pull her up on the branch and back towards the heart of the tree.
He urged her down and crouched before her, bringing the lantern between them. Finger to his lips, he breathed a shhh, blowing out the candle.
The branches shook as several Sluagh landed on the limbs higher up. The next scream caused even the darkness to shudder.
Emer let out a whimper, and the man’s hand covered her mouth. The smell of smoke tickled her senses like the warm ash-covered stones of a hearth. It was mingled with a familiar sweetness that conjured memories of the wine she would enjoy during solstice celebrations. It reminded her of the warmth it left in her belly and the pink it brought to her cheeks. They were memories that wrapped her like a blanket—content and safe. She closed her eyes and willed those memories of the past to block out the present.
Warm air stirred violently, whipping around them. The trees creaked, and the leaves rustled so loudly that it almost drowned out the cries of the Sluagh. The panic coursing through Emer had sweat dripping from her brow, and even the stone around her neck felt hot.
Then, as quickly as it started, everything stopped. The wind died down, and the night grew still. The hand over her mouth slowly pulled away, and through the darkness, he asked, “How do you hide it?”
At the furrow between her brow, he clarified, “How very sad you are.”
Emer sucked in a sharp breath but did not answer him .
After a few moments, when she remained silent, the lantern sparked again.
“They are gone. They cannot take you anymore,” he said solemnly, and Emer nodded, taking his hand and making their way out of the sanctuary of the tree.
Emer’s legs still felt unsteady as she jumped down, looking in the immediate vicinity for the horse that was most certainly not there.
The sound of a rider barreling through the tunnel drew their attention, and soon, Calder emerged from the darkness. Relief flooded his eyes, seeing Emer safe and whole, but quickly shifted to something more violent as he took in the stranger beside her and unsheathed his sword.
“Well, that’s just rude,” the stranger huffed.
“Calder!” Emer barked. “Put your sword away. He protected me!”
Calder's eyes narrowed, suspicion joining the existing menace.
“In case you are wondering why dear Calder is looking at me like he wants to eat me…” the man spoke to Emer, his eyes narrowing. “I think it’s because he does not like my kind much.”
Something behind the man twitched, and for the first time, she noticed the long, gossamer wings. When her eyes snapped back up to his, he winked.
“You’re Fae,” Emer remarked in wonderment.
Releasing the lantern, now suspended in the air, the Fae slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels.
“Keane,” he introduced. “I enjoy long walks through heather fields, wine, the harp, and mushrooms… not the kind for soup,” he punctuated his speech with a wide grin. “And you?”
“Absolutely not,” Calder scolded, which earned a bristle from the newcomer.
“If you think I am the kind of common trickster who needs to con someone into revealing their true name, then I am offended,” Keane scoffed .
“I think you are Fae, full stop. She has no interest in your stories, secrets, or anything else you have to offer,” Calder gritted between his teeth.
Before, the coldness of his voice would have scraped like ice against Emer's spine, but instead, she felt the swift heat of resentment flood her veins.
As if sensing it, Keane turned to her with a sly grin, “Darling, didn’t your mother ever warn you about controlling men? Sure, he is dark and brooding… but you are a strong, independent woman. Let us rid ourselves of his suffocating masculinity.”
He extended his hand, and there was familiarity in the offering and fondness in his eyes. A fondness that remained despite the fact that Emer did not return the gesture.
Calder dismounted Danu, rolling his wrist and twisting his sword as he drew closer.
Keane tilted his head and smiled, “I rather think that is not a game you want to play with me.”
The wind heated and stirred once more, and although Keane’s hands remained in his pockets, it was clear that he had also drawn his weapon.
Calder glared and Keane responded with a shrug.
“I’m going to give you a pass just this once as it's hard to believe a boyishly charming face like mine could end you without lifting a finger. But I will remind you that the Sluagh feared me. Why do you think that is?” Keane asked cockily.
“Because, as I was saying, you are dangerous. Hence the fucking sword,” Calder said curtly.
“And again, I say, rude. Do you see me just whipping it out every time I see a Sea Raven? No, because, unlike your kind, I can be civil,” he remarked, crossing his arms in offense.
“Your kind doesn’t know the meaning of civil,” Calder countered.
Keane rolled his eyes and gazed absently at the canopy above. “Yes, because fighting and fucking your way across the Isle is oh-so- civil,” he purred. “Shall I regale your lovely companion with the tales of your pious people?”
“We have no time for your ravings,” Calder sneered.
“Oh… but, Raven, ravings are for madmen, and man, I am not,” he retorted smugly.
Emer inserted herself into the break in their verbal sparring.
“Calder, if he wanted to hurt me, he could have more than once.”
Calder’s eyes widened slightly before saying, “What is that supposed to mean.”
Emer recounted the events that took place the night of the brawl as succinctly as possible, pointing to each respective party when applicable, pausing periodically to allow Keane to confirm or deny her account where it concerned him. However, aside from raising his hand and clarifying that he had not interfered but acted as a supportive presence, he did not interrupt or deny any of what she’d said.
Calder crossed his arms at his wrists, sword still in hand. While his gaze had not strayed as Emer spoke, it was evident by the sharpening of his features that his thoughts had already shifted.
“I think I would have remembered seeing you,” he argued.
Not one to balk at a challenge, Keane clicked his tongue and tapped one long finger against his chin.
“Well, you were on the other side of the pub staring at a rather large set of breasts if I recall.”
Unlike with the previous verbal strikes, at this one, Calder’s lips pulled back into a cruel smile, “And you were busy staring at her .”
It was not a question but an accusation.
“If you think you can take her, you are mistaken,” Calder threatened.
All mirth vanished from Keane's expression as he said, “If you think you can protect her, so are you.”
Emer stepped back.
“If either of you think that you can continue to speak about me like I am not here. Then fuck you both.” She scoffed before stomping into the darkness.
After shooting Keane a withering glare, Calder snatched Danu’s reins and followed her. Rolling his head between his shoulders, Keane turned on his heels and joined them.
“I missed the part where I said you could come with us,” Calder spat with clenched teeth.
“I am surprised that with your astute observation skills, you also missed the part where I didn’t ask,” Keane returned from where he casually trailed behind them.
Something large shifted in the trees to Emer’s right, and she paused, dropping low and retrieving the knife from her boot. Before she stood, Calder and Keane were at either side of her. They released a collective sigh at the sight of Aven trotting out of the shadows.
Still shaken, he nuzzled apologetically against Emer, who took his reins and walked him through the remainder of the tunnel.
Emer paid little attention to the two men who continued to follow her or their hushed arguing. Even after they left the tunnel and Emer and Calder once more mounted their horses, the pace was slow, and Keane walked steadily at their sides.
“Still following?” Calder groaned, looking at Keane out of the corner of his eyes.
“Still breathing?” Keane shot back.
“You must have been following her for a while if you managed to protect her during the brawl in addition to the Sluagh,” Calder observed.
Keane’s hand flexed around the coin in his pocket.
“Am I to believe your intentions are purely altruistic when you have been stalking her?”
Keane let out a snort. “More so than yours,” he challenged.
“Why?” Calder’ s voice was cold and calm.
Emer, having heard the exchange, stopped Aven and turned expectantly.
“Would you believe I’m here for jinx and jollies,” Keane offered coyly.
When his answer received unamused stares, he dropped his shoulders and nodded. Pulling the coin from his pocket, he held it up for their appraisal. It was only about the size of a silver piece, but rather than solid metal, it was gold on the edges and vibrant green glass in the center with flecks of gold suspended in the green.
Calder’s eyes shot up to Keane’s.
“Centuries ago, I made a bet with an Elder, and this came with my prize. Tell me I am wrong. Tell me it is not the exact likeness of her eyes,” Keane challenged.