Chapter 30
W hen Emer came to the Isle, she was in search of many impossible things—the last of which she thought would be the watchful eye of a Raven, the protection of a Fae, and the quiet her normally chaotic soul had found alongside them.
Keane, not one for quiet of any kind, passed the time sharing harrowing stories and retelling ancient tales. The accounts of which stood up against Calder’s scrutiny time and time again. Emer drank them in, allowing them to fill the spaces within her she had long reserved for worry. By the time Keane began to spin prose about Mian Loch, Calder only hummed or grunted in response to the narrative.
Much like Emer’s own story, it began with a well. However, this story was a cautionary tale about an arrogant man who asked for the love of a woman who had denied him. The Elders and their magic do not interfere with matters of the heart, and when the man’s request was rejected, he began to kick the well and tear at its bricks. Water overflowed, creating the loch and releasing the Guardian who had lived within it—a Merrow. Thinking the beautiful woman in the water was his prize for besting the well, he went to her. When he took her hand in his, the same melodic voice that had denied him began to sing, and she continued to sing as he drowned. What he thought was his reward was, in fact, his reckoning.
“The moral of the story obviously being no means no,” Keane summarized.
Calder offered another approving grunt. Emer, however, wore a pensive expression and her mouth twisted into a frown.
“Was the well destroyed when the loch was formed?” she asked, hoping the wretched man was not able to destroy such a beautiful thing solely to appease his fragile pride.
For a moment Keane just stared at her thoughtfully, “I have told this story many times and that is the first time anyone has asked me that.”
This only made Emer’s frown deepened and Keane gave her a soft smile.
“The magic of the well overflowed to allow its Guardian to protect not only the well, but the maiden the vile man had been demanding. The legend says that the Merrow will now hear the pleas of those hoping to wish at the well at the edge of the loch. It also says she has developed a taste for prideful men.”
Emer smiled, relieved that the wretched man was not able to destroy such a beautiful thing solely to appease his fragile pride. “Maybe I should invite Ewan there for a picnic,” she mused under her breath.
“I don’t think you would need any assistance from a fellow Merrow to deal with him,” Calder retorted. It was the first time he’d deigned to speak for some time, and Emer turned to find him still watching her.
“Speaking of which. Be ready to show those fangs where we are going.”
There was a wariness in his eyes that could have been caused by the trouble they’d faced before or a sign of the trouble waiting for them in the town beyond, but Emer found herself desperate to assuage it. She pressed her tongue against one of her canines, something she had seen him do many times, and tested its sharpness. His eyes fell to her mouth, and then he shook his head, but even as he turned away, she caught the twitch of his lip.
When Invengarry finally came into view, Emer’s body screamed in relief. The town had been settled out of necessity as a respite for those traveling north, and she quickly learned that her definition of “necessity” was vastly different from the founders of this particular pit.
Aside from a modest inn and stables, the other structures appeared to be dedicated to drink and other forms of pleasure. There was not a merchant to be found—no stalls of goods or sweet breads. She had not thought she would miss the town that she’d been attacked in, but she now romanticized it in comparison.
Though she would never have considered herself timid, Emer was almost immediately scandalized by the sights and sounds that greeted them. Averting her gaze, she attempted to swallow her embarrassment. Instead she choked at the sight of Calder watching her from the corner of his eyes, smirking.
Mercifully, they reached the inn without incident. Keane and Calder dismounted their respective horses at the same moment, bringing them almost nose to nose. Keane wiggled his brows while Calder looked up, seemingly searching for his lost patience before turning and making his way to the inn.
Though trust was scarce, in a realm of magic, bargains were far more common, and their terms were clear. Keane could not harm Emer, take her, or play any part in others doing so.
Halfway to the worn wooden door, Calder hesitated and turned back. Ignoring Keane’s questioning stare, he tapped Emer’s thigh and raised his arms to her in offering. She smiled down at him warmly, accepting his aid, while Keane watched on.
Once her feet hit the ground, he turned to make his way back to the inn. “I need to see about the room. Stay out of trouble, yeah? ”
“Did you say room ?” Keane stepped back, placing his fingers delicately against his chest to emphasize his disgust.
Calder stared at him, entirely unamused.
“Aren’t you seafarer-type wealthy? Certainly, you can afford more than one room, man whore,” Keane chastised.
“We already discussed the arrangement. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Keane, still displeased by said arrangement, glowered.
“Just take that guy’s room,” he said, shifting his weight and pointing to a man leaning against the wall by the inn’s door.
Emer gaped.
“We can’t just take his room!” she scolded.
“Why? He isn’t going to need it,” he said, bored with her protest.
“Of course, he is going to need it… that is precisely why he is here!” She pinched the space above her nose, but Keane merely rolled his eyes.
“Do you see that big black dog with him?” he asked calmly. Emer quirked a brow and then looked back to the man who was most definitely sans dog.
“No?” she answered tentatively.
“Exactly… because you aren’t going to die. He is,” he explained, tossing his head in the man’s direction. “And hopefully, he will do us the courtesy of doing it before he occupies a perfectly good room.”
Emer’s eyes widened as she looked at the man and then back to Keane.
“Emmy, please! I’m not a monster. I planned to drink to his memory and toast his chivalrous sacrifice.” Keane tilted his head sweetly.
“Do you need a reason to drink?” Calder scoffed, not acknowledging any of the other, arguably more pertinent, details of the discussion .
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Keane remarked over his shoulder. He turned to Emer, who was now visibly annoyed.
“Fineeee… but thank the Elders I am here to chaperone,” he relented, turning his nose up at Calder as he did.
“Chaperone? I thought you were here waiting for me to fuck up so you could snatch her away. How is the view from your ridiculous moral high ground?” Calder shouted as he disappeared into the inn.
Emer absentmindedly toyed with the stone of her necklace as she considered what might motivate Keane to guard her so fiercely from Calder. The solid press of it against her palm provided a grounding sensation.
The corner of Keane’s lips curled mischievously, revealing his gleaming white teeth. “Something on your mind, love?” he asked.
Before she could answer, a gruff voice drew her attention.
“You must be a daft, treacherous lass to have the gall to walk around here alone!” he snarled.
Emer reeled back, shocked by the outburst. The man who had been leaning against the inn stalked towards her, hate lighting his eyes. It was a reminder that the experience she enjoyed in Calder’s village was the exception—this was the rule. A rule she had allowed herself to forget.
“What a peach… still broken up about him,” Keane asked, sliding a finger across his throat with a single click of his tongue.
Emer’s eyes darted between the two of them, waiting for the man to react, and when he didn’t, Emer threw Keane an accusatory look.
“Oh, yeah. He can’t see me,” Keane said nonchalantly as he picked an invisible piece of lint off the shoulder of his jacket.
“Some chaperone,” she hissed.
Disgust simmered in the man’s features as he closed the distance between them, undeterred when Emer reached down to retrieve her knife .
“You’re all the same. Here to light this town on fire too?” he bellowed, pulling back his fist.
Keane effortlessly swept to his side, grinning when the man bumped into him.
“Halt,” he whispered, his voice like a sweet melody.
The man froze, his arm still pulled back and ready to strike. The hatefulness of the cruel man’s features was as distant as the foggy look that now consumed his gaze.
“Apologize,” Keane commanded, and although the man fumbled with his words, he complied with the request.
“To make up for your despicable behavior towards my lady, you will hand over your key. Now.” Keane’s lips upturned as he spared a glance to Emer.
The man shuddered as the words coursed through him, forcing the movement in his limbs. He reached into his pocket, removed his key, and held it out.
“Emmy, please accept his apology so he can go spend what is left of his miserable afternoon in the pub. Or, if you like, I can expedite his departure.” The calm in Keane’s voice led her to believe he was quite pleased with the opportunity to display his power over mortals. Mortals like Calder. Like her.
Still holding her knife, she reached out with her free hand and snatched the key. The man’s arm remained suspended, unaware or uncaring that the key was no longer in his possession.
Keane leaned in, whispering to the man, and then patted him on the shoulder. The contact seemed to draw him from his stupor, and he blinked wildly for a moment. When he looked at Emer, there was no recognition. He simply righted his jacket and then left without a word.
“‘Some chaperone’ indeed,” Keane said, his voice smug and free of the compulsive melody.
“Proud of yourself?” she questioned.
“If I’m not, then no one would be, and I am far too wondrous for that to be the case,” he sang back .
She frowned at the comment.
Keane shifted uncomfortably at her sympathetic expression.
“Was that really necessary, though?” she groaned, fiddling with the heavy metal key.
Keane wilted slightly.
“As I said before. The man had no use for the room. His time will be up before the sun fully sets. Also, while I have complete confidence you could have gutted the poor bastard, that would be quite an unnecessary mess. More selfishly, if I don’t use my… abilities… I tend to get… itchy,” he explained.
Emer’s lip tugged.
“I figured you would be more accepting of me using them on that sad excuse for a male rather than an unsuspecting fool… like dear Clader.”
“Calder.”
“Whatever.” He waved away her correction.
As if summoned, Calder appeared and narrowed his eyes on the knife still in Emer’s grip. “Why is it that whenever I leave you, I return to your unsheathed knife?” he asked.
Keane crossed his arms haughtily. “Does our girl make a habit of pulling knives on men?” he asked.
Emer pushed past both of them and made her way to the room that corresponded to the characters stamped on the key.
In the distance, she heard Calder snarl, “What did you do?”
To which Keane responded, “Aside from providing stimulating conversation and general merriment, I secured her a private room. What is it that you’ve done today, knight?”