Chapter 42
T hey had never discussed the after, Calder realized the moment he lost sight of Emer. When the ritual was complete, would she return down the path she had used to leave? Was he meant to follow after the appropriate amount of time? What was the appropriate amount of time?
His own uncertainty, combined with the fact that Keane was uncharacteristically anxious, left Calder pacing along the mountainside. It was not until the wind began to stir and he met Keane’s eyes as he disappeared that Calder understood.
He cursed the Fae for his deception.
He cursed himself for not having seen the obvious.
He cursed the Elders for their games.
If Calder had been thinking clearly, he would have called upon Alabaster to search the clearing, but instead, he raced down the path.
At the base of the Well, he found Emer, whose shoulders were shaking as she spoke something into Keane’s chest. A growl began to claw its way up Calder’s throat at the sight, but when she pulled away, he could see she was laughing. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes rimmed with red, and her lids heavy, but she was smiling, and every murderous thought he’d been entertaining ebbed from his mind. She was happy. He smiled as he made his way from the entrance to where they stood.
“Still with the bedroom eyes, then?” Keane sighed loudly.
“How about you don’t fucking push me right now,” Calder warned, and Keane nodded in understanding.
Emer hiccuped, still struggling to regulate the breadth of emotions that were flooding her.
“Deep breaths, lovie,” Keane soothed.
Fear has claws that dig in deep and the scars that it leaves once you are freed from its grip still manage to sting at the faintest touch. Emer felt like her whole body was a wound.
“How do we know it worked? What if I was already too late?” she asked, looking to Keane and Calder to invalidate her worry.
Their silence was deafening.
“Emmy.” Keane contemplated his words. “The Well accepted your request, but it is a Well of healing… its magic cannot reverse death. Bargains like that are a much darker thing.”
“Is there nothing we can do? I don’t think I will survive not knowing,” she pleaded.
Calder offered to send Alabaster with a note, but it would still take nearly five days if he left straight away.
Keane, no longer bound by the rules of the Well that had prevented him from helping her before, said, “I can go. I can go and bring you news of what I find. Whatever that is, we will face it together. I promise.”
He explained that the bargain that tied him to the Well put significant strain on his magic if he attempted to leave the Isle, and while he would return as soon as he could in his weakened state, it would likely not be until just before sunrise.
For her part, Emer did her best to explain the layout of her village and landmarks or visuals that would help him locate her home.
Physically and emotionally depleted, the group agreed it would be unsafe to make the journey back down the mountain. Emer and Calder would find a suitable place to camp a respectable distance away from the sacred clearing and await Keane’s return.
“Try not to get into trouble without me!” Keane winked as he vanished into swirls of colors, mostly periwinkle.
For a long moment, Emer stood looking at the ethereal mist as it slowly dissipated. Her nails rhythmically tapped against her palms as her body protested the stillness. She had been fighting, running, and searching for so long that she forgot what it was like to be still.
Lost in thought, she had not felt Calder come up behind her until he was wrapping his arms around her middle. He pulled her against his chest, taking much of her weight as she collapsed back into him.
“Can we be done running now, sweetheart?” he asked, bringing his head down to press his cheek against hers.
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“Come,” he urged with a gentle tug.
They sat side-by-side against the Well. Calder raised her hand to press a soft kiss in the center of her palm before pulling back and staring at it thoughtfully. Aside from some of her oldest injuries, many of the marks that had marred it were gone. He rubbed his thumb over her palm and let out a soft chuckle.
“The Well must be fond of you,” he remarked, turning her palm up so she could see her healed hand and the few faint pink scars.
“Well, that makes one thing on this Isle,” she said in a huff.
Calder gave her an exasperated look, “I dare say a certain magical being is quite fond of you.”
“Jealous?” she teased as she rested her head back against the Well.
“You think I’m the jealous type? Even though I said nothing when he shared your bed?” he asked with a raised brow .
She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, surprised by his comment.
“I wouldn’t consider that ‘sharing a bed’. He slept the night curled at my feet,” she corrected.
“I would have happily taken his post,” Calder interjected.
“So, you admit you are jealous?” she pressed.
“If it is not clear by now that I would prefer to be the one to keep you warm at night, I would be happy to rectify that.”
Despite his exhaustion from the climb, the heat had returned to his eyes.
“Even then?” she smiled.
“Even then,” he said, pulling her hand towards him once more, but this time, placing a kiss against her wrist.
“You want to know something else?” he spoke against her skin. “I have never known someone to spend so much time barefoot.”
Calder shifted to kneel in front of her. Retrieving the wineskin that had long since been filled with water, he began to clean away the grime. Using his tunic, he dried her feet before sliding them into woolen slips and replacing her boots. With unsure fingers, he began to tug and tie her laces; Emer felt it deep inside her, each movement unweaving the fear running through her until she felt the final knot loosen and the tension go slack.
Emer realized then that perhaps the most terrifying thing she had found on this Isle was how thoroughly she loved the man before her. It was the kind of love that felt like madness but she would gladly accept the madness as long as it meant having him.
Before she could say as much, a whisper in the wind caught her attention. Searching the clearing for the source, she found nothing but Calder’s confused stare. She brought her hand up to her head and rubbed her temple, wondering if she had spoken too soon about accepting insanity. The wind tugged at her hair, and Alabaster cried.
“ Run.”
Every flame in the surrounding lanterns burned blue in warning. Calder hurtled to his feet and unsheathed the swords. The hands that were fumbling with Emer’s laces were now as steady as the steel of the blades they wielded.
Backing towards the Well, they scanned the clearing for the cause of the lanterns' shift, prepared for all manner of monsters. What neither could have expected was the relief in Lachlan’s eyes as he ran into the clearing and saw Emer.
“You need to come with me. Bring your Raven. They will be here soon,” Lachlan urged, extending a hand to her and motioning for her to close the distance.
“Big fucking mistake,” Calder growled, positioning himself between them.
Scrubbing his hand down his face, Lachlan cursed, and this time, when he gestured for Emer to follow, there was a desperation in his eyes that was too raw to be false.
“I will explain everything. Please?—”
“Must you be so dramatic?” A feminine voice sang from behind Lachlan, cutting off his plea.
Lachlan turned sharply on his heels and backed away to reveal more new arrivals.
Three forms now stood at the entrance to the Well. Everything about them was like stone and gave nothing away, but there was an undeniable sense of wrongness that accompanied their presence. There was no weariness to indicate that they had just scaled the mountain—no rapid breath or beads of sweat. They were the picture of calm and so beautiful it was almost painful. Their features were sharp and unforgiving, so similar that there was little doubt they were siblings—two brothers and a sister who would be identical if it were not for their eyes.
The woman who stood prominently in front had eyes blacker than night, no whites or light to be found. They were a stark contrast to the brother at her back with bright eyes of golden honey. The third, a synthesis of his siblings, had an eye of black and one of gold.
“Lachlan… not dead, I see,” the woman greeted.
“No thanks to you, Neamhní,” Lachlan said accusatorially.
She gave a playful shrug before turning to look over her shoulder to her brothers. “Yes, well, dear Teárlach has a flair for theatrics. This time, I will make sure there is no room for error,” she cooed, looking towards the one with honey-colored eyes.
The movement revealed a strange mark that began on her neck, trailed under her jaw, and below her ear—a symbol of three joined spirals. Unlike the similarly designed symbol that represented life, light, and peace, the spirals of this mark were inverted, with spirals curling in the wrong direction.
A mark the brothers also bore.
Lachlan moved as if to stand at Emer’s side and against the new threat, but Calder quickly stepped into his path, demonstrating he had no allies on their side of the clearing.
Holding Lachlan’s desperate gaze, Calder snarled to no one in particular, “What do you want?”
Neamhní sighed.
“Such a complicated question. Don’t you think, Bás?” she asked, and the man with gold and black eyes to her left raised his brow. “See, Lachlan intends to take your little friend because someone has it in their mind that she is ‘special’,” she said mockingly. “Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s her blood he needs, and the silly man doesn’t know how much. Just that it has to be fresh ,” she clarified.
Numbly, Emer turned her gaze to Lachlan. For the crimes he had committed against her family, he was already beyond redemption, and yet she waited for him to deny this latest betrayal. Lachlan looked away, and Emer’s shoulders sank.
“I wish you were dead,” Emer said in a whisper.
“Trust me, I have been trying . See, you were actually why Lachlan and I had our little falling out. We don’t want him to get your blood,” Neamhní said with a serene smile.
It was a smile that Emer felt like a bite, and with startling clarity, she realized the answer to why it had felt as if the shadows were intent on either keeping or killing her since the moment she arrived.
“Because you want me dead,” Emer finished.
Neamhní’s bottomless eyes seemed to shimmer as she said, “Very much so.”
“You won’t touch her,” Calder growled.
“Oh, little bird, you couldn’t save her from my beast… what makes you think you can protect her from me?” Neamhní chimed.
Calder spun his swords at the wrist, shaking off the chill that had begun to grip his bones. There was not a drop of hubris in his movement, only the promise of blood if they moved toward them. Lachlan, too, kept his weapon trained on the triplets.
“Lachlan, you really are the charmer. I am astonished you convinced the Sea Raven to fight at your side. Given that you had a hand in his mother’s murder and all.” The black-eyed beauty’s words were a killing blow, and Calder swayed slightly from their impact.
Calder's body shook with the force it took to resist looking at Lachlan for confirmation.
“You lie,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“Am I? Your mother, a midwife from a long line of midwives, knew a secret. One about a baby that had been hidden on Rest. A baby whose blood was passed down to its descendants. Imagine Lachlan’s shock when he learned what he had been looking for was right under his nose the whole time. He was quite disappointed if I recall.”
Every word was like a stab through his heart, and Calder could feel the tired, tattered muscle begin to stutter. His mother had been a midwife, as was her mother and her mother’s mother. She had been lured away and tortured by someone he later learned was from the Isle of Rest. Tortured, he now knew, in an attempt to determine the bloodline of the missing baby.
To find Emer.
Calder’s vision warped with the effort to keep his fury contained. Protecting Emer while getting the revenge he craved was an impossibility, and the waring needs had him splitting the seams he’d roughly hewn throughout the years.
“Raven?” Lachlan said tentatively. “I have done many terrible things, and I did write Muireann requesting to meet, but by the time I got there, she was… not that, I didn’t do that,” he swore, denying for the first time one of the offenses leveled against him.
At the mention of his mother’s name, Calder’s grip tightened in preparation to strike, but the haunted tone of Lachlan’s voice—so much like Keane’s when he had spoken of the carnage in the alley—made him pause. Calder’s attention snapped back to Neamhní.
“Such a clever little bird you are. Fine, so I am lying. Late Mother Morvran would be so proud.”
Calder turned to the triplets fully, not protesting when Lachlan came to stand at his side. Though their motives differed greatly, they were in agreement that Emer needed to remain alive, and for now, that was enough.
“Just so we are clear. After they are dead, I am going to fucking tear you apart,” Calder warned, sparing Lachlan a sharp look.
Lachlan nodded.
“A threat we will both need to be alive for, so I shall worry when the time comes.”