Chapter 37
C alder awoke to a warm wind tousling his hair.
Keane sat perched on a fallen tree nearby, staring at him with a petulant expression. It was then that Calder recognized the weight of Emer’s body wrapped around him, his own hand laying scandalous claim to her as she slept.
“I should find a witch to make your dick fall off,” Keane said flatly.
“And yet, you didn’t wake me when you arrived,” Calder asserted.
Keane conjured his chalice, taking a large drink before turning and spitting it out in an attempt to remove the taste of the rotten magic that had clung to Lachlan and still coated the back of his throat. True magic—Keane’s magic—was sweet.
“Emmy looked peaceful. After what happened last night, I wouldn’t risk waking her up. Besides, if she is fond of you, then she will stay. So, against all odds, I am actually rooting for you.”
Calder’s throat tightened as he realized the ache he would feel at the loss of her warmth when she woke would pale in comparison to the pain of her leaving for good. If his soul had been fractured before, he was certain the moment he lost sight of her on the horizon, he would lose it entirely.
Strange and wicked magic.
With Keane back, there was too much they needed to discuss, and he forced himself to run his hand up and down Emer’s spine, waking her.
“Morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” she responded.
“Debatable,” Keane drawled.
Emer sat up quickly, looking at Keane. He, in turn, cast his eyes to the ground and made no attempt to move closer.His posture was no longer proud or certain. Even his wings seemed to fall lower than usual. Both men remained silent as Emer rose, waiting for her to decide the terms of what came next.
They had left her alone, they had brutalized someone in front of her, they had protected her, but they had not listened to her. The fear at the truth of all those things was evident in the remorseful heather-colored eyes that stared back at her. Waiting to learn if she would scream at them, admonish them, or fear them.
Keane and Calder were no strangers to monstrous deeds, but it was clear that having her witness them was what made them feel like true monsters and the pieces of her heart that each of them had stolen broke.
Misunderstanding her sadness, Keane began to try to explain. “You were safe, Emmy,” Keane said in a low voice. “We carved protection runes into the surrounding trees and…”
Keane rubbed his thumb over the faint pink line on his palm, the only sign of the already healing cut. Runes without magic were nothing more than symbolic but Calder’s runes activated with the magic in Keane’s blood held power.
Keane moved closer, eyes pleading, and it became evident that the cut on his palm was not the only injury he’d sustained. His clothes were torn and dirty. There was a large tear down one side and a healed cut through his right eyebrow .
She raced forward, wrapping her arm around Keane. “I'm still mad at you, but I’m so glad you are okay.”
Keane shuddered briefly before returning the gesture tenfold, squeezing her tightly as he pressed a kiss on the top of her head.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he swore.
Without fully releasing him, Emer held out her hand towards Calder and smiled to herself as she felt his strong hand close over hers only a heartbeat later.
Held tightly between them, she murmured, “Thank you for protecting me.”
Emer backed away, watching them through red-rimmed eyes. “You are both idiots, by the way. I was afraid for you, not of you.”
Their shoulders dropped, her words releasing the weight that had shackled them both, one that had been there long before her but, somehow, only she could remove. Something good that accepted them, monsters that they were.
“Are you ready to talk about it?” Keane asked gently.
Emer nodded.
Unlike his typical method of relaying information, Keane kept strictly to the facts—how Lachlan had hired Ubel to take Emer, though, in reality, he was merely a distraction; how they had drawn lots to determine who would go into the clearing versus who would stand to watch.
“I won,” Keane said proudly. “I took your cloak to disguise my scent and waited for him to strike.”
“Why did you let him strike before reacting?” she asked, giving Keane a scolding look.
“Emmy, love. I am immortal, remember?” he reminded her softly as he tapped her on the nose.
She whirled to face Calder.
“You aren ’ t . And you still drew lots. What if it had been you?” she pressed.
“Then I would have gladly taken my position next to the fire and even more enthusiastically worn that bastard’s blood,” he remarked with no hesitation.
Keane cleared his throat, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. “He did have a condition in coming for her outside of payment.”
“Condition?” Calder echoed.
“He wanted a lock of Emmy’s hair,” Keane sneered.
“He died slowly, yes?” Calder’s voice was sharp and cold.
“I took breaks to hydrate.” Keane smiled at Calder before turning back to Emer with a fretful expression. “I’m sorry, Emmy. Do you want me to go back and get you a lock of his hair?” he asked.
Emer declined.
“And Lachlan?” Calder asked.
Keane looked down briefly before answering.
“I expect he has succumbed to his wounds,” Keane explained, running his hands through his hair. “He fled into the woods, and I tracked him most of the night, but there was another scent, different magic, that made it impossible to locate. I lost him, Emmy.”
Lachlan had gotten away.
Recognizing the Sea Raven’s sense of urgency and deep contemplation, Keane’s eyes narrowed. “You know we cannot travel through the Bleeding Trees,” he said sternly.
Calder’s expression was hostile, but Keane stood firm.
“The new moon is a day away.”
“I am aware,” Calder growled, the unified facade from earlier burnt to ash as they glared at the other. “What if he tries again?” he bit out.
“Then we will fucking handle it, Calder. We are not going through the woods.”
“What’s wrong with the woods?” Emer interjected .
Keane sharpened his glare at Calder momentarily. “The Women of the Woods. They are the residents and protectors of the Bleeding Trees. They care for them and, in turn, draw power from the forest,” he explained casually to the astonished mortal before him.
The woods themselves stretched across the length of the Isle, rendering it almost impassable. Those who dared to traverse the landscape risked their lives to do so. However, a great fire ravaged the woods several centuries earlier and resulted in a narrow clearing that has since allowed travelers to cross free from the reach of the Women.
When Emer asked Keane what made the inhabitants so dangerous, she saw the slightest twitch in his wings.
“They have a nasty habit of bloodletting travelers who can be lured across or near the tree line,” he said with a sigh. “To make matters worse, they and the others who call the woods home are particularly excitable during the new moon and you smell as sweet as honeysuckle. While they would not harm you, we would not receive the same hospitality, and that would leave you vulnerable,” he said flatly.
Emer balked, “I what?”
She had not realized that Calder began to stride past her. He paused momentarily, his breath causing the hair on the back of her neck to stir.
“He said… you smell like dessert .”
She drew in a sharp breath at the deep sound and the mental images of his mouth that it conjured.
“Oh,” she remarked, turning slightly to look at him over her shoulder, Keane’s pacing and muttering still present in the distance.
Calder studied her for a moment, his hands balling at his sides. “Yeah. Oh ,” he echoed darkly before continuing his stride past her.
After thoroughly discussing the risks, the three agreed to navigate to Belwarie and proceed through the clearing.
Emer excused herself to prepare for the next leg of their journey, leaving Calder and Keane alone.
“We have to send her back,” Calder said. Even as he spoke the words, he could taste how false they were on his tongue.
With sudden clarity, Calder realized that it was not his father’s pride and belief that he could protect his mother—it was his fear of separating from her that fueled his inability to leave her, and he was acutely aware of how easily he could become the very thing he despised so much in his father and no longer trusted himself to be able to let her go. When he took a deep breath, Emer’s scent flooded his lungs from where it had woven itself into his tunic.
“I’m sorry, Lachlan must have hit me harder than I thought. Can you please repeat that?” The use of the word ‘please’ did little to weaken the venom in Keane’s voice.
“If I try to keep her, you will take her away.”
Keane’s eyes flared wide with anger. “I don’t take orders from Ravens,” he countered.
“It’s not an order. It's a fact. You and I made a bargain. Protect her from anything . Including ourselves. If I ask her to stay, she is in danger here, and your magic knows that. If I ask her to stay, it will force you to take her.”
Calder’s eyes were cold as he held Keane’s, which burnt with a riotous hatred. Keane’s magic began to hum and stretch beneath his skin in agreement.
“I hate you,” he ground out as he fought the instinct stirring inside him. “You are going to regret this. You are going to want her! You already want her, and you are going to make her hate me.”
Calder just nodded.
“You better fucking hope it doesn’t come to that. I was fine with being your enemy, but there is no corner of this vile land where you will be able to hide from me if you make me hers.” The anger in Keane’s voice had ebbed into something that sounded almost desperate—he resigned himself to the truth that when any of them told this story in the coming years, there would be no happy endings.
“I want her to stay,” Keane confessed.
Calder closed his eyes and tipped back his head, fighting the sickening weight that had already settled into his bones.
“That’s the problem. So do I.”