Chapter 31
“ I need a drink,” Calder announced.
With a pointed glare aimed at Keane, he rubbed a hand over his chest, willing the tension away that seemed to have seeped into his bones since they departed Murdoch.
Devious pale-purple eyes found his. “We could follow our new friend to the pub and take bets on when the Elder of Endings collects. Loser buys the lot.”
“Fine by me,” Calder answered.
At the same time, Emer barked, “Absolutely not!”
She turned to Calder with wide eyes, and he shrugged. This offense was not even in the hierarchy of his darkest deeds, and he was fairly certain she knew that.
Keane clapped delightedly, pleased by either Calder’s agreement or the way his agreement made Emer glare at the Sea Raven.
Likely both.
Emer tossed the key she received from the stranger to Calder and ripped the one he had returned with from his hands. Crossing the short distance to where the horses were boarded, she retrieved her satchels and threw them over her shoulder.
Calder smirked at the sight .
“Shouldn’t you help her?” Keane criticized, and Calder glared at him out of the corner of his eyes.
“You go over there, tell her you think she needs help, and let me know how that goes,” Calder challenged.
He knew better than to expect her to ask for help—he also knew better than to doubt what she was capable of.
“She’s just… so tiny,” Keane observed quietly as she drew closer.
“Say that to my fucked eyebrow,” Calder argued, pointing to the wound Emer had gifted him, not bothering to mention the much larger one that decorated his ribs. Keane looked at him with suspicion.
“I’m going to put my things in my room. You two do what you want with the other.” Her voice strained from the weight she carried but she remained fairly steady as she marched away from where they both stood watching her.
“Is the dog still here?” she asked.
Keane pointed to where the unseen creature sat. His onyx-black fur and yellow eyes were visible to no one else aside from the Fae.
“It will linger in the area until it is time to escort a soul across the Array and to the Elder of Endings,” Keane explained.
Emer reached into her satchel and grabbed one of the bits of stale bread and cheese that had remained. Giving a sharp whistle, she tossed the items in the general direction of the seemingly empty space Keane indicated. The offering appeared to be accepted as it never hit the ground.
“It’s not like anyone else is going to think to feed an invisible dog!” she barked, turning back and into the inn.
“Fuck us, right?” Calder remarked, to which Keane nodded in agreement.
When Emer returned to the front of the inn, she found Calder leaning against the structure, glowering, and Keane busy stroking Alabaster, who seemed all too happy to be spoiled .
Keane begrudgingly released the white raven, and the trio made their way to the pub on foot. Upon their arrival, the sights and smells of which were as deplorable as Emer had expected, Keane eagerly scanned the dimly lit room for the man marked by the hound.
“There’s our man!” he said excitedly.
As if on cue, the dead-man-walking grabbed his chest and collapsed to the floor. The barkeep leaned over the counter to stare down at the now deceased man—a sight that earned only a slightly raised brow. With a roll of his eyes, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the body, signaling for someone to come and collect it, which seemed to be deemed a mere tripping hazard. Hardly anyone else appeared to notice, and Emer could not help but grimace at how terribly sad it was.
“Well, shit,” Keane pouted. “Either of you bet on ‘he’d die as soon as we got here’?”
They shook their heads.
“Just as well… neither of you could afford my tab.”
Keane led the way through the small space to a table whose occupants quickly removed themselves. Their expressions were blank as they wandered out the door, ales still in hand.
“Where did you send them?” Emer asked, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.
For a moment, he looked pensive. “Where do you suppose people go when one tells them to fuck off?” he asked thoughtfully.
Emer turned sharply, horrified.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said, waving away her worry like it was a bug that could be batted away.
Emer dropped into one of the newly vacated seats, shaking her head. Returning from the barkeep, Calder set down three large ales. The contents of which splashed across the already stained wood.
Gripping a mug in both hands, Emer brought it to hover before her lips, pausing as her eyes snagged on the sight before her. A Sea Raven with a raised brow and a Fae with a smile filled with glee. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering if she had drowned that day and everything happening now was simply the magic of her dreams leading her across the Array. She could see her heart crafting someone as brave as Calder, and her spirit someone as wild as Keane. They embodied the cautionary tales she grew up with, passed down like recipes throughout the generations. However, compared to the men before her, the stories were made with inferior ingredients, resulting in a version paler than the real thing.
Emer closed her eyes and drank the dark liquid to the dregs, not pausing to allow the muddy taste to linger on her tongue. When her gaze met her companions once more, she received an approving nod from Calder and a disgusted look from Keane.
“Elders bed me sideways! You have been in the company of this barbarian too long!” Keane scolded.
Emer shrugged.
Keane’s chagrin shifted to his beverage. He dipped his lips to the liquid and then swiftly retreated.
“No. Nope. Absolutely not. I respect myself too much,” he said, shaking his head in protest.
Returning the mug to the center, he snapped his fingers and conjured a beautiful chalice filled with sweet red liquid. “Hello there, gorgeous,” he said wistfully before sipping.
“Why did you let me waste coins on ale if you could just conjure your own drink?” Calder challenged.
“Because I enjoy your misery. I’m sorry if that wasn’t obvious,” Keane returned with an expression of genuine concern. Calder glared, studying his features with predatory intensity.
“What?” Keane spat before taking a sip from his chalice.
“You’re Wraithnocti,” he observed.
Keane straightened his shoulders before pinning Calder with his stare. Calder tilted his head slightly. “I was under the impression Wraithnocti can’t walk in the daylight. ”
“And?” Keane remarked, tilting his chin up.
Calder looked around and then threw out his hands to emphasize the time of day.
“Do I need to explain to you how magic works? Because, if so, I have deep concerns,” Keane answered.
“I’ve never heard of such magic,” Calder returned, causing Keane to grin widely.
Leaning back in his chair, Keane swirled the chalice lazily. “You can be impressed. It’s okay… I won’t tell,” he said with a wink.
Emer, already feeling the effects of the ale, let her head fall back and snickered.
The moment her hood slipped from her head, her companions sat straighter. Calder’s hand dropped to one of his knives at the exact moment the air around them warmed. Calder turned sharply to Keane to find him already scanning the crowd. When Keane’s gaze drifted past Calder, his attention snagged.
“You truly just want to protect her, don’t you?” Calder asked him quietly.
Keane gave a single sharp nod, which Calder returned.
Sensing their unease, Emer began to fidget until Keane smiled warmly at her. “Since our earlier game was ruined, how about we try for another?”
“What kind of game?” she asked with a grin.
“Traditionally, in an establishment as fine as this one, one would play either dice, daggers, or drinks.”
“Fuck no. We are not playing dice,” Calder said firmly.
“Why?” Emer asked, slightly vexed by the prompt dismissal.
Calder leaned back and crossed his arms as he said, “Tell her the rules.”
Although Keane bristled at the order, he complied.
“We take turns proposing a task, and then we roll dice. The lowest roll must then complete the task,” he explained casually.
“By tasks , he means a dare. As in, he can dare us to do whatever he wants and to further my previous ‘fuck-no’, agreements with Fae are binding, so we would have to do whatever Elders’ forsaken atrocious thing he pleases,” Calder said with a sneer.
“Okay, what about drinks?” Emer inquired.
“Rather than dares, drinks relies on truths. We state an act, and those who have not engaged in it must admit their plainness and not drink. Those who have get to toast themselves,” Keane said with a sideward glance to Calder.
Emer tapped a finger against her lips.
“So, if I were to say something like, ‘lived to celebrate my 300th birthday,’ I couldn’t drink, but you…” she said, raising her brow in question.
Keane laughed. The warmth and sincerity of it seeming to surprising even him.
“Emmy, darling, you may have a little Fae in those veins of yours. As a reward for your devious demonstration, yes, I would have indeed needed to drink.”
“How old are you?” she barked in bewilderment.
“Old enough to have thought of the best comeback the other day, only to have found out the person it was intended for died 200 years earlier,” he sighed. “Time flies when you’re drunk. Anyway, let’s play a round. One turn each.”
Emer nodded enthusiastically while Calder devolved back into annoyed grunts.
“Normally, I would say ladies first, but I suspect it would be best to start the bar low. Raven?” Keane prompted, earning him a sharp glare.
“Stabbed a man,” Calder said threateningly before turning his eyes on Emer. “Drink up, sweetheart,” he added, sparing Emer a heated glance.
Keane assessed her with a raised brow as she drank.
“Let’s revisit that another time,” he remarked, bringing his grinning lips to the rim of his chalice. Reminding her that beneath the whimsy and charm, he was still something to fear.
“All part of the job, love, I promise,” he said with a wink .
They watched Emer expectantly, and she worried her lip in thought. As far as life experiences go, it seemed the ones worth sharing had happened only in recent days, and almost from the moment she had washed ashore, Calder was there for them.
So, she chose the event that preceded it all. “Survived a shipwreck,” she said proudly.
Calder smirked as he mirrored her movement and lifted his ale. Catching the wonder in her eyes, he tipped back his chin and tapped the scar under his jaw that he had earned from that particular dalliance with the sea. Only when Emer began to feel an ache in her cheeks did she realize how widely she was grinning at him.
“Been in love.”
Emer’s attention snapped back to Keane, who watched her thoughtfully, taking a sip from his chalice. The sound of the tavern around them rushed away like a retreating wave. Warmth slithered through her veins and left tingles across her skin. Emer realized Keane’s magic was demanding an answer she was not sure she knew.
Reflexively, she looked to Calder, who watched her with equal measure. She felt the phantom brush of his lips against hers, haunting and taunting her.
“Emmy.” Keane’s faint and worried voice preceded the sharp bite of the magic that had the heat arcing through her bones like tiny streaks of lightning. Punishment for not obeying the rules.
Emer hissed.
Calder winced.
But fear and a tiny sliver of pride kept them both still as statues.
“There are many kinds of love. Surely, you have both loved in some capacity. Just drink and be done with this. I can’t keep my magic from forcing you, and whatever pain you are feeling is nothing compared to what it can be. Just drink,” Keane pleaded.
They drank, chests heaving in relief as the magic released them.
With a slight cough, Emer quickly shifted the attention .
“Who were they?” she asked Keane.
He gave her a sad smile.
“I have a nasty habit of loving things that are bad for me, and I am a collector of many vices.”
“Any current vices?” Emer asked, trying to understand the wistful look in Keane’s eyes.
“My most recent paramour and I are on a break,” he offered with a casual nod as if his explanation were commonplace.
“A break?” she echoed.
“Well, yes, I didn’t actually risk my life to return and let them know that things were over… so, technically, we are still on a break.”
His explanation received a suspiciously understanding noise from Calder, and Emer could not help the laugh that burst free from her. While the sound initially drew smiles from the two men before her, it also drew attention from those around her. Several patrons leaned in and began to whisper. While others openly glared, malice and resentment stark in their eyes.
Keane sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he scanned the faces, pausing on a man who sat alone and allowed his gaze to linger on Emer for too long. Leaning back in his seat, he conjured his dice into his palm to busy his hands.
Calder leaned towards Keane. “Why don’t you take Emer outside for daggers while I talk to our large friend over there.”
Without taking his eyes off the man, Keane nodded.
Standing, he reached out his hand to Emer. “Another game before we call it a night. This time, the winner gets a prize.”