Chapter 39
I sle Basalt taught Emer many things.
One: men grunt when they die.
Two: painful moments linger.
Three: she had been right the first time—death was cold.
The warmth that surrounded her now was the first sign that the beast of Belwarie hadn’t managed to kill her. More than that, she’d saved the others from it.
She was coaxed from sleep by a gentle swaying and the awareness of strong arms around her. Taking a deep breath, she was blanketed by whiskey and salt water.
She smiled.
Waking in Calder’s arms had become more familiar than it should have been, but Emer could no longer deny that she welcomed it. She tried to open her eyes, but exhaustion held her as tightly as he did, and they fluttered closed after catching sight of his silhouette framed in the morning light.
“You called my name…” Calder’s words trailed off.
At that, she opened her eyes. The intensity of his stare caused any remarks on her part to catch in her throat .
“When you collapsed, you called my name,” he explained, and there was a combination of surprise and reverence in his tone.
Before she could respond, she heard Keane make clipped remarks from where he rode atop Aven. Her eyes darted between the two of them; their normally soft smiles had sharpened, leaving her balancing on an edge.
Themuscles of Calder’s chest tensed beneath her hand as she attempted to right herself. His heartbeat set a pace that mirrored her own, and she jerked away, feeling as though she had stolen a secret. The gracelessness of the movement caused her to crash back against him.
“We need to stop so I can gather herbs to counter the effects of the attack. She isn’t well, Raven,” Keane commanded.
Calder’s jaw worked, but he nodded.
“What happened?” Emer whispered, trying to make sense of the strange tension that settled heavily over their group.
“What happened, Merrow, is you stopped.” There was a heat in Calder’s tone that was not entirely disapproving but not completely proud either.
“I did.” Her lips curled in a sleepy smile. “You’re welcome.”
“It… changed things,” he continued.
“What things?” she asked, matching his hushed tone and searching his eyes for an answer.
He crooked his fingers towards her and gave her a conspiratorial look. Leaning in, she tilted her head to better hear him. “ Secret things,” he whispered before taking her ear between his teeth with a sharp nip.
Emer gasped, reeling back and smacking his chest, which shook with silent laughter.
“I’m serious,” she hissed, the pink staining her skin making the green of her eyes even brighter.
“So am I,” he said in earnest.
“I think this is a good time to stop ,” Keane remarked louder than necessary .
He led the party off the path and into the tall grass. There was barely a breath before Keane dismounted and stood next to Danu, holding his hand out to Emer. Calder’s grip on her tightened briefly before relaxing and releasing her.
“Emmy and I will look for the herbs. You can… go find us water or something,” Keane said impatiently.
The crease between Emer’s brows deepened when Calder did not balk at the demand.
As Keane led her away, she looked over her shoulder to find that while Calder had dismounted, he hadn’t moved. He stood by the horses, his arms crossed over his chest, and winked. She thought she’d imagined it for a moment, but then he smirked as he began backing his way toward the tree line.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, placing her hand on Keane’s arm.
“Of course,” he replied with a stiff smile. “I am sorry I couldn’t protect you. You know that is all I am trying to do, right? Keep you safe.”
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that had not been there before, along with what might have been fear. Emer stopped, tugging at Keane’s arm until he looked at her.
“I know,” she said, embracing him in a tight hug.
Fear had him stiff in her embrace. He rested his chin on her head, kissing her hair softly.
“Besides. Now I can brag that I saved you,” she spoke into his chest.
Hearing the smile in her voice eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“Too right.”
When Keane found what he was looking for, he removed his jacket and laid it down in the grass to hold the various delicate plants he’d begun collecting.
There was something ethereal about the sight of him in a simple tunic as his long fingers reverently selected stems and leaves. Satisfied with their harvest, he sat cross-legged before his jacket and began braiding strands of the herbs together. His rolled up sleeves revealed ornate gold markings that swept up the lean muscles of his forearms. They caught the sunlight and the art scrawled across his skin was suddenly ignited as if painted with luminous strokes.
“How did you get those markings?” Emer asked as she watched him prepare the herbs.
Keane’s hands stuttered briefly. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What?”
Recognizing that it was perhaps rude to ask a Fae such a question, she stumbled over herself as she attempted to clarify.
“I’m sorry, was it rude to ask? I think they are beautiful and I?—”
“No, Emmy. It’s just… I suppose the question just caught me by surprise.” His lips parted as if he intended to say more but his brow furrowed and he refocused on his task.
“What do you mean? What are they?” she asked.
“It is magic beneath my skin. Magic that is not comprehensible to mortals. So much so that they typically cannot even see it right in front of them.”
Looking at him more closely, she could see that the marks were not just on his arms; they disappeared under his tunic and reappeared in wisps over his collarbones and the sides of his neck. They crept up his body like vines, some bare, whereas small flowers adorned others.
“What do they mean?” she asked again.
He shifted uncomfortably at her question, nervously rubbing at the back of one of his hands and distorting the gold five-petaled flower painted on his skin.
“They are bargains,” he explained, gaze downcast.
There was a reason why people were warned against making bargains with the Fae, yet Emer could see with her own eyes the many who had not heeded them.
When Keane finally looked up, there was remorse in his eyes, and she wondered how many of the marks on his body weighed on him like the coin in his pocket. With a life as long as his, there were sure to be regrets. In comparison, Emer’s life had been a blink and yet she already regretted plenty. Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his and squeezed it twice.
“Always twice,” he observed out loud, and Emer smiled.
“Once for love, and once for luck,” she explained.
Of all the obscure things Keane knew, of all the secrets he had closely guarded, he was certain that this knowledge would be what he coveted most.
“Keane?” Her voice was quiet.
“Yes, lovie?” he asked, already knowing the question.
“Why can I see them?”
His gaze rose slowly to hers, but he did not answer. Not right away. His brow furrowed as his eyes held hers.
“It is not common for Fae to become so attached to mortals, you know. For most, mortals are a source of entertainment or bargains. If, however, a Fae were to take a mortal as a mate, they would be woven into our world and be granted sight.”
Emer watched him with wide eyes, blinking as her thoughts swirled like smoke between the shape of his words and trying to fill the gaps in her comprehension.
“But I am not your entertainment, nor am I your mate,” Emer stated.
“No,” he let out a chuckle. “No, you are not. You are, however, my dear friend. A mortal I protect and care for without gaining something in return. Some might say that is more powerful than romantic love,” he continued, a soft smile appearing on his face.
His words seemed to have an almost immediate calming effect and Emer nodded in agreement. The way they can cut and wound, one might see words as solid things but after centuries of bending and twisting them into pleasing shapes, Keane knew better. Words could be a balm as easily as they could be a blade.
“I fell in love with your eyes first, I think. I knew you were special the moment I saw them. Love is a lot like magic in how it can make us feel both powerful and desperately powerless,” he mused.
“So, I can see the marks. Because you love me… as a friend?” she asked with a tilt of her head and furrow in her brow.
Keane gave her a tight smile.
“More or less, darling.”
Holding up the chorded herbs, Keane lit it with his magic and a gentle smoke scented with juniper drifted from it. Rising to his knees, he stood over Emer and twirled the smoke around her.
She closed her eyes, breathing deep and filling her lungs. It smelled like wishes and warm solstice wind—a salve for her tired muscles and soul.
Slowly, she felt the grip of exhaustion release her and the fog in her mind clear. When she opened her eyes again, Keane sat back on his heels in front of her, the morning sun wrapping him in a halo of light. Her eyes lit with wonder and he smiled a genuine and bright smile.
“Do you have a mark from your bargain with Calder to protect me?” Her voice was dreamy as she relaxed into the calm settling over her.
“I do,” he acknowledged, tilting his head and brushing back his hair to reveal the feather marked behind his slightly pointed ear.
Emer grinned.
“How long will you have it?” she asked, running her finger over it and causing him to flinch away from the ticklish sensation.
“We did not stipulate a timeframe. So, I will have it until he dies or breaks our deal.”
“Will you have one from this? From helping me?” she asked, her voice carrying a note of wariness.
“Not all bargains are selfish, Emer.” His brow pinched in frustration. “Some bargains are meant to help. But no, I can take care of you without it indebting you in any way.”
The relief in her features was a dull knife in his chest and the pain was evidence that at least once upon a time he had a heart. His long life had given him unmatched tolerance, and the hurt never reached his eyes even as he felt his soul blacken a little more.