Chapter 32
T he cold steel slipped from Emer’s fingers, embedding deep into the empty barrel outside the tavern. She began to jump up and down excitedly, pleased that even intoxicated, she was still an ace with a throwing knife.
Keane threw up his hands with an exasperated groan. “You wicked little trickster. You could have at least mentioned you were good at this.”
“And where would the fun in that be,” Calder remarked, moving towards them with two fresh mugs of ale.
Emer moved to retrieve the knife, and Keane leaned against the side of the tavern next to Calder.
“So?” Keane asked quietly.
Calder raised his mug of ale and took a long drink. “Our curious friend managed to disappear into the crowd before I got to introduce myself. He didn’t seem interested in her anymore, and I didn’t want to get too far,” Calder explained.
“I bet you didn’t,” Keane observed. “Any theories as to why the Isle seems particularly interested in our girl? I mean, I am a believer in eternal grudges and all, but this can’t be just because she is from Rest. This feels… different. ”
Calder glared at him out of the corner of his eyes for a moment before letting out a slow exhale.
“You were in Arborlynn with us, yes?” Calder asked, and Keane nodded. “What do you know of the men who died in the alley?”
“They didn’t die. They were slaughtered. The alley reeked of blood, magic, and Emer. Originally, I thought you had done it, which is why I kept following, but then the Sluagh came for her.”
Calder cursed under his breath. “We just need to keep her safe and get her home,” he said, eyes still fixed on a returning Emer and unaware of Keane’s deepening scowl.
“Look at you two bonding!” Emer said, clapping happily.
“We found a common interest,” Calder remarked.
Emer extended the knife to Keane, which he accepted less enthusiastically than he had moments before. Reaching for Calder’s ale, she gave a wobbly bow when he relinquished it.
There was a loud crack followed by metal clattering onto stone. Keane cursed, and Emer ran forward, retrieving her knife to examine its condition. The blade was fine, but she frowned at the scratch that now marred the handle.
“Sorry, darling, I think the thing is cursed or something,” Keane said, rubbing his neck bashfully.
Calder kicked off from the wall to where Emer stood, holding the knife in both her hands and staring down at it as if it were a wounded bird. Slipping his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face and found her lip held in a pout she only seemed to wear when she was drunk. He tapped her lip and surprise flickered over her features.
“Don’t fret, Merrow. It gives it character. Something to remind you of the adventure.”
For a heartbeat, he got lost in the way she looked at him and the way it made him feel. His thumb stroked the line of her jaw.
“When we get home, can I get a knife of my own? Not that I don’t want to keep yours. ”
Calder’s thumb stilled, and his muscles tensed.
Home.
He fought the urge to correct her, to remind her that she did not belong and that, despite the hopeful look in her eyes, she never would. It wasn't a reminder she needed at that very moment and he stroked her jaw once more, letting himself imagine it was possible too. Forcing a smile, he nodded.
Emer grinned and danced away to collect her winnings from the Fae she had just hustled.
“What do I win? A wish?”
“You always set the terms of your deals before you win. Not after,” Keane explained, spinning the coin he always seemed to be fidgeting with and sending a familiar chime through the air.
“What about that?” Emer motioned to the coin.
“Even if I could give this to you, which I can’t, you would not want it, lovie.” He sighed and flipped the coin towards her.
Emer snatched it out of the air, clasping it to her chest.
“Not so fast. Put it in your pocket,” Keane instructed.
Emer followed his command and then watched him expectantly. He slipped his hand into his pocket and, to her surprise, pulled out the very same coin. She quickly searched her own pocket only to find the coin was gone.
Emer frowned.
“How about a secret instead?” Keane offered.
Emer nodded in agreement, and he crooked his fingers at her, beckoning her closer. Fae secrets were prized possessions that were never offered up freely. Keane’s secrets were heavy, and he had many, but besides that, he knew she would cherish it even if she did not understand its value.
“The bargain I made with the Elder came with more than this coin. ”
She pulled back from him slightly, pure awe dancing in her eyes. Her expression began to fall as she noted his smile was not the one she had seen from him previously. It was soft but didn’t reach his eyes, the sparkle that typically danced in them absent.
“What did you win?” she asked, her voice thinner.
Calder paused his drinking, attention settling on the coin in Keane’s hand.
“I thought I was clever,” Keane huffed a derisive laugh, “I had made bargains for favors and relics, deals for power, all so I would never be as weak as I once felt. And one day, someone offered me something that meant I could keep everything I had collected—immortality,” he sighed. “If I won, they would grant me immortality in exchange for a single favor, but I couldn’t know the favor in advance.”
Keane began clutching the coin so tightly that it dug into his skin, and Emer reached over, placing her hand on his. He shook his head as if he hoped to free himself of the melancholy that the memory gripped him with.
“Anyways. I won. Damned myself in the process. Hindsight and all that,” he said with a shrug.
Beneath the attempt at nonchalance, tension still tugged at his features. Behind his mischievous glint and wicked grins, there was a well of sadness compounded by his lifetimes.
“If you made the bargain to get immortality, perhaps you can make one to get out of it?” she said encouragingly, though it seemed a strange thing to be hopeful for.
Keane laughed.
“Shockingly… not many seem interested in helping me die. I suppose I am just too charming.”
After several more rounds of game and alcohol, the decision was made to return to the inn before Emer curled up on the ground or Keane tried to lure passersby into a fairy ring for a more entertaining target.
With unsteady feet, Emer walked with her arms hooked around each of the males’ elbows. Occasionally, Keane attempted to incorporate some fancy footwork, but Emer was too drunk and Calder too sober.
As they stumbled down the road, the merriment that hung in the air was replaced by an oily dread. It slipped down Emer’s throat, halting her breathing and stealing her speech. Searching for the cause of her unease, her attention snagged on a hooded figure with an eye of coal and one of gold. The question of whether or not he was staring back at her was answered when he tilted his head expectantly.
Emer tripped, and strong arms grabbed her from either side, causing them to become a tangle of limbs and stumbling boots. When she was no longer in imminent danger of crashing into the ground, her head snapped up, searching for the man who was nowhere to be found.
The amused expressions worn by Keane and Calder as they righted her shifted as they took in her worry and she felt a pang of guilt for depriving them of the brief respite from worry.
With a self-deprecating rub of her head and a pained smile she explained, “I’m fine. The ale just went to my head.”
Calder was not comfortable with her returning to her room alone in her current state; Keane was not comfortable with her returning to her room with Calder, so the three of them made their way down the narrow hall of the inn—one of them kicking or bumping something, the other two hissing a hush louder than whatever the original offense was.
Once in the room, Keane almost immediately took residence at the foot of the bed as one would imagine a pet would—a loaf of bread affectionately cradled in his arms.
“I knew I liked you,” Emer said through a grin.
She curled up on the top half of the bed. A soft humming blanketed her just before the spinning darkness consumed her.