Chapter 19
E mer had proven to be reckless, unpredictable, and perfectly capable of all manner of chaos without the help of a crowd. The moment they entered town, the variables would increase exponentially, and with each stride, Calder grew noticeably stiffer.
He turned to look at Emer, her eyes alight with interest as she took in the unfamiliar sites. For a brief moment, he considered whether or not his mother had looked upon these villages in such a way. It was a look that would soon dull as Emer came to realize that while all wanderers, drifters, and all manner of the lost were welcomed in towns such as these, outsiders and interlopers were not.
“I mean it this time, Emer. No matter what happens. Eyes. Down,” Calder said in a tone that would make the very sea itself still.
She began to lower her head but then paused briefly as if surprised by her own obedience. Danu came to Aven's side and Calder took her reins and began to lead them into town.
The ground beneath them transitioned from dirt and grass to a stone road. Before long, the sounds of their steps were joined by the distant murmurs of people.
Arborlynn’s location made it a prime place for trade and merchants. Less ideal were its crowds and propensity for crime. Though its dense population and bustling street would typically be the perfect setting to blend in, with Emer the entire town was kindling, and she was an unruly spark.
Without seeing her surroundings, the cacophony of sounds quickly became overwhelming and she shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. The shout of a nearby vendor made her flinch and she began to press her nails into the palms of her hands fretfully. The assault extended beyond the sounds. Various tempting and revolting smells rose through the air to find them. Having grown stiff, she was startled when Calder adjusted their direction. Snapping her eyes shut and working in a calming breath, a sweet and familiar scent swept over her like a comforting blanket. For a moment, she was home. Baking in the hearth with her mother. Emer did not even realize her head had risen to seek out the source of the scent until a firm hand squeezed her thigh.
“Seriously! You’ll risk being seen because some man is flashing his tarts,” he scolded under his breath.
Certain that no one in the realm’s history had ever made a more risqué statement regarding bread, Emer was forced to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.
“Will make terrible choices for bread. Noted,” he murmured.
“And potatoes,” she added.
Calder let out a puff of air that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
“Keeping a list?” she asked quietly, smiling when he hummed in agreement.
Reaching the stables, Calder dismounted Danu and approached the young man to discuss the terms of boarding.
The stablehand shifted slightly, his eyes drifting repeatedly to Emer. Even with her features hidden under his old cloak, it was clear by her stature that she was a woman, and Calder found himself more inclined to violence with each stolen glance.
Calder stepped to the side, blocking the man’s view, and dropped the agreed-upon sum into his open palm. Leaning in, he closed the man’s fingers over the coins with enough force that joints cracked and the coins pressed hard into his skin. “I’m gonna need you to focus here, friend,” he whispered, snapping with the fingers of his free hand.
The man groaned.
“Focused?”
A nod.
“Good. Good,” Calder said with a wolfish grin.
“Am I going to have a problem with your eyes wandering in the future?” he asked, to which the man furiously shook his head.
Calder released his hand and the coins fell to the mud, bloody from where one with a rough edge broke through the skin.
Patting the man’s cheek, he said, “Long may that continue.”
When Calder turned away, his smirk immediately fell. Walking to the far side of Aven to ensure Emer’s back remained to the stables, Calder tapped her thigh lightly.
As she dismounted, Calder’s hands slipped beneath her cloak, catching the small of her back and slowing her descent.
It was not until Emer stood pinned between the horse and the Raven that they realized the wordless dance they had just completed. Neither acknowledged the ease with which they now interacted nor how abnormal it should have felt but didn’t.
“What happened?” she asked quietly, gesturing towards where the stablehand had vacated.
Calder stepped back, removing his hands from her waist. “Just stay close and behave ,” he said firmly.
Emer dropped her head exaggeratedly. “What is it that you expect me to do exactly? Skip through the streets naked?”
Calder scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t coordinated enough to skip. ”
As they walked, Calder explained that he had someone in town that he needed to speak to. Despite the fact that those around them spoke the common language, Emer knew her voice would likely stand out as much as Calder’s first did to her and she fought the urge to ask questions about his appointment. He offered to help her but hadn’t elaborated on what that help might entail. Perhaps this man was a merchant and able to provide the supplies needed for her journey. He had advised that this town was on the path towards the well, not that she knew enough about the landscape to confirm or discredit that. Her stomach felt hollow as she considered the man they were meeting might be Calder’s means of pawning her off on someone else. He made no secret of how troublesome she was, and for the first time, the thought bothered her. The lump that formed in her throat suddenly made her more amiable to the silence.
The crowd and her intrusive thoughts made following him through the market substantially more challenging than the keep, and not a moment too soon, the pair reached the Alder Barrel.
The tavern was easily marked by the stumbling men and the general odor of poor choices. The air was filled with the sounds of men shouting, exchanging coins, and mugs slamming down on the wooden tables.
Feet sticking to the floor with each step, Emer followed Calder to the far corner of the room, which was heavy with the scent of yeast, sweat, and toxic masculinity. The further they descended into the chaos, the stronger Calder’s headache and Emer’s nausea.
He stopped at a corner table, pulling out the seat and motioning for Emer to sit. The legs of the chair proved themselves to be as wobbly as her constitution, tipping slightly as she took her seat.
Kneeling beside her, Calder spoke just loud enough for her to hear over the room. “The conversation I need to have is very important and being seen with you would complicate it?—”
Emer did not let him finish explaining before turning her head slightly to scowl at him.
“Emer, you attempted to sail in the night with a group of armed men to make landfall undetected. That was and is problematic,” he continued.
At the truth in his words, her scowl deepened.
“There is no record of the ship, the attack, or the men. But if any of them survived or if they were captured and there was any suspicion that you were associated with them—Em.” He paused as he watched the horror on her face before saying, “I need to know if anyone knows to look for you.”
“If they are and they find me, will they take me?” she asked, finally understanding the weight of the accusations that could be leveled against her.
“It is not worth the risk to find out. I’ll come for you once I’m done. Just stay here and everything will be fine.”
Emer’s eyes darted around the room worriedly but were drawn back to the sound of Calder tsking. “You insult me, Merrow. You’ve seen me fight but doubt my ability to protect you from a couple of drunks? Everything will be fine,” he repeated.
When Emer let out a huff in return, Calder pressed a hand into the table in front of her and leaned in closer, swallowing the space between them. “Don’t tempt me to show off.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. A dark promise rather than a threat.
“And keep your cloak closed,” he said, pulling the panels together. “Or the brawl that ensues will not be caused by the lovely shade of your eyes.”
The moment he left, she felt the loss of his grounding presence. A wave of anxiety crashed over her and she needed to fight the urge to search the crowd for him. She focused on the weight and shape of the knife in her boot to remind herself that, even without him, she was not helpless.
A woman’s voice sounded from just behind her as if she materialized out of thin air. So startled that someone was talking to her, Emer had not even processed what the woman said. Why would she need company?
Eyes downcast, Emer shook her head at the woman’s offer. A refusal that was quickly ignored as the woman began to run a finger over Emer’s cloaked shoulders, causing her to flinch at the contact, fearing the woman would pull back her hood.
“I do not think this one is here for jinxes or jollies, woman. Leave them be,” a melodic voice sang from a table nearby.
The woman’s once sickly-sweet voice turned harsh as she muttered under her breath and stormed off.
Curious if Calder had been aware of the near disaster, Emer tilted her gaze up and found him several tables down talking to an older man, who had his back to her. He had a long braid and several weapons fastened to his body, though no one seemed particularly concerned by his arsenal.
The woman who propositioned Emer now floated behind Calder, languidly drawing a finger across his back as she moved. His posture straightened under her touch and he paused the mug he was bringing to his lips. She was stunning, wearing every curve with unparalleled confidence and no qualms about displaying them. Though her dark eyes were alluring and her full lips were painted crimson, most in the room seemed to be focused on how her jet-black curls fell over her large breasts.
As she reached Calder’s other side, she bent down, resting her elbow on the table, providing him ample opportunity to appreciate the pale flesh spilling out of her corseted dress. When her eyes finally settled on her prey, she discovered that he was wholly predatory. Her eyes widened as he tilted his head towards her, appreciating his genuinely handsome appearance.
Emer quickly scanned the room and confirmed that Calder was, in fact, the most handsome of the group, and although she had not seen much of this Isle, she was fairly certain he would be the most handsome man in any room .
Calder pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, savoring the ale he had drank and possibly the woman before him.
The woman leaned in, using the noise of the room as an excuse to get closer.
Emer matched the movement, leaning in closer like a moth to a flame. Compelled to watch the fire dancing before her even though it hurt.
Hurt. Why the fuck did it hurt?
She ground her boot into the leg of her chair, the hilt of her knife pressing against the bone and offering a different kind of pain.
Whatever left Calder’s lips next caused the woman’s hopeful gaze to pinch. She stormed away, muttering what could have very well been actual curses on the tail of a second rejection. Without warning, Calder’s gaze locked to Emer’s through the crowd before she dropped her head, muttering her own curses.
Having no desire to be caught a second time, Emer kept her eyes down, counting the score marks in the table beneath her to distract herself from the look that had been in Calder’s eyes when they ensnared hers. She felt the heat unfurl beneath her skin and was certain by the slight twitch of his lip that he had noticed it too.
Emer blinked the thought away, returning her attention to the wounds in the wood when something solid slammed into her back and pushed her into the table. The impact was quickly followed by a mug clattering across the wood. Its contents rapidly spread over the table and Emer, too stunned from the initial collision, was too slow in pushing back from the table to avoid its path.
Now standing, Emer held her arms out reflexively as she surveyed herself. The sticky and stale liquid soaked the sleeves and chest of her tunic; the material clung to the swell of her breasts, ruining the illusion she had been trying to maintain. Crossing her arms tightly, she searched the space to see if anyone had witnessed her mistake .
Across the room, Calder choked on his ale while his companion patted him on the back.
Shrinking into herself, Emer closed the panels of her cloak. The man who caused the incident, much like the other patrons, had not noticed she was a woman. Her shoulder ached from where she had received the man's apologetic slap and she wished he had been a bit less remorseful.
After tipping her chair to remove the remaining liquid, Emer reseated herself, sullen and soaked in the tepid ale that left her skin tacky and her mood sour. Her discontented groan was cut short by yet another unfortunate interaction and Emer began to dwell on the knife in her boot for an entirely different reason.
“Move,” the presence at her side demanded harshly.
Emer held her breath, hoping that, by some chance, this command was not directed towards her. She did not linger in uncertainty for long.
“Eejit, I am talking to you!” the man growled as he slammed one hand against the table in front of her and gripped the back of her chair with the other.
Recoiling, Emer slid her hand into her boot and curled her fingers around her knife. While stabbing the man likely fell outside the realm of Calder’s instructions, available options were quickly dwindling, and before she could conjure an alternative, she was being ripped from her chair.
Her feet barely touched the ground as the man held the fabric of her tunic and cloak in a tight fist, bringing them face to face. Instantly, she was hit with a boorish exhale of his ale-infused breath.
Surprise gave way to understanding as the man took in the face beneath the hood. The murderous look in his eyes shifted into a more threatening one of hunger. Tongue darting over his lips, he looked her up and down. Too distracted by her chest to register the knife poised against his .
“And here I thought it would be the ale keeping me warm tonight,” he crooned.
Emer steeled herself, ready to plunge her knife to its hilt but paused at the sound of a familiar but notably more possessive voice.
“Remove your hand or I will be gifting it to her as a keepsake.”
The man leaned back and squared off with Calder. For a moment, he looked between them as if debating whether she was worth the trouble that Calder’s tone promised. It was a debate that took far longer than Emer would have liked, but eventually, the man set her on the ground. Emer adjusted her hood and quickly moved towards Calder.
“What business is it of yours, Raven?” the man challenged.
“If you know what I am, then you know we don’t share. Walk away and don’t look at her again unless you want her to be the last thing you see,” Calder warned.
With a sneer, the man backed his way into the crowd.
Calder grabbed Emer’s hand to lead her from the table, but stopped abruptly and raised it between them. His wicked grin glinted off the blade she still clutched.
“Merrow… were you about to steal my fun?” he asked, eyes delighted.
Emer raised the middle finger of the hand he held before ripping it free and stomping towards the exit.
After only a few steps, she came to regret the distance. Glass smashed nearby, and when she turned, she saw the man who had attacked her moments before crash face-first into a table. The wood cracked and split from the impact, leaving a large gash streaming with blood as he sank back to the floor.
Calder’s features were frozen in a mirrored confusion. Then, sensing what was about to come, he turned and reached for her with urgency.