The Quiet Beyond the Well: Keeper of Réaltaí #1 by CW Wren

Author:CW Wren [Wren, CW]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

The space of calm that immediately follows chaos is a strange one. A mercurial moment of intense emotions and nuanced realizations. Like the recognition that time moves like cool honey when you are afraid. Fear makes everything slow and thick. Moments of joy, however, are more like sugar. Small, precious, and easily scattered. That knowledge made the realm seem crueler, and the truth became painfully evident when Emer began to hear the growing sounds of the town. To them, there was not a body in the alley nearby.

Their day was measured in sugar.

Her nose scrunched under her hood at the scent of the blood still clinging to her. A wealth of gore concealed with a simple cloak.

Returning to the more populated streets, Emer tilted her head slightly and glared at those who passed from beneath her hood. The suspicious glint she had so often observed in Calder’s eyes was now heavily reflected in her own. Shared features that resulted from the same lessons learned.

One: men grunt when they die.

Two: painful moments linger.

Her grip on Calder tightened. Once the monster she ran from, now the one who led her from harm. Calder squeezed her hand back.

“What?” she asked, blinking in confusion.

“I said you need to get on the horse,” he repeated, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Horse?” she asked, only to realize that they were back at the stable.

Her thoughts were heavy and her movements slow. It was a weight Calder recognized and one that seemed to grow heavier every time he witnessed the darkness of the Isle attempting to blot out the light of the tender-hearted girl who did not belong there.

Impatience had him gripping her waist and hoisting her on a horse she soon realized was Danu rather than Aven. He quickly situated himself in the saddle behind her.

They did not acknowledge that their bodies suddenly made contact in more places than they did not. His chest pressed into her back, his thighs cradled hers, and his arms rested at her sides.

Calder looked down at the way his body caged her. Protective. Claiming.

The next thing that wanted her would have to pry her from his damn lap—the fucking Elders included. Perhaps not the sanest response, but he had learned if there was space between them, it would be exploited. The logical solution, then, would be to have no space. Even with a set of reins in either hand, he kept one arm wrapped around her.

When he drew in a tired breath, he pressed further against her, but she did not move, and he wondered if the contact was as grounding for her as it was for him. When her muscles relaxed and she nestled into him, he had his answer.

He drank in her rain-like scent mixed with the tang he knew all too well. Like forget-me-nots watered with blood.

“I won’t run again,” she said quietly.

“I will not give you a reason to run,” he replied, voice flat but words warm.

The back of Emer’s head rolled rhythmically with the horse’s

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