Page 171 of A Courage of the Chosen

Then, to spit in my face, I felt it the moment the woman who belongs to me gave herself willingly to a man who is so unworthy of her. The magic of their Anamara stroked the quiet recesses of my mind, and I tore through these caverns in a rage that burned brighter than anything I’ve ever felt before. There’s a pile of dead soldiers to prove it.

Only the little voice in the back of my mind, that said I was acting like Father, stopped me from using every morsel of magic I possess to transport this army to the palace gates, ripping it apart brick by brick while Seelie scream.

He took her. He stole her.

Since then, the molten fury has dimmed, leaving behind something far colder and more determined.

There are other ways to get what I want, and it’s not the first time I’ve had to pivot my plans around her.

But it will be the last.

What’s worse, she fucking married him.

He knew I was there, saw the connection between Elsie and I, and he let me feel it while he fucked her, claimed her, made her come in a release that almost had me reaching for my own cock.

There’s no holding back the beast that feeds on the frozen vestiges of my heart, and I have no desire to prevent it from bubbling to the surface. I could shift if I wanted to, but I’m saving that for him.

Steel won’t do when it comes to what I have planned. Callahan will feel my talons ripping through his flesh, and I’ll make sure that Elsie knows that she has no one but herself to blame when his life comes to an end.

Actions have consequences, I thought she’d know that by now.

Instead, I’ve channeled my frustration and outrage into more productive means. The entire army has been fitted with new armor that’s been adapted to accommodate the shift that I’ll command, and offer some protection from Callahan and Elsie when they wield their light.

Because they will.

This is the final game, and neither side will hold back.

The forges have worked night and day to ensure the ninety-thousand-strong force is prepared, and the final units will be ready to move out by sundown.

Elsie’s birthday is tomorrow, and my gift to her is the war that’s been steadily brewing for almost two centuries.

“Again,” I order the units training under my gaze.

While the armories have relentlessly churned, I’ve pushed my soldiers just as hard. Callahan and his rebellion have more knowledge on our ways of fighting than the royal armies. We haven’t had time to devise anything different, so I’ve made sure that my commanders are driving their units to be faster and more lethal than they’ve ever been.

I’ve drilled them with shifts at my whim, and they switch effortlessly between teeth and sword. Fist and talons.

Elsie’s army will be outnumbered.

Fifty thousand against nearly double that.

The slaughter will be quick. Ruthless. And I’ll compel her to watch every second of it before I take her light, like I should’ve done in the first place.

Maybe Father was right—she did make me soft.

No more.

She’s chosen her destiny. It’s time I cement mine, as King of Elfayne.

My body urges me forward, and I dive into the training ring with a Seelie who rivals me in size. The brute is roped with thick muscle, and a series of nasty scars that indicates he won more than one fight with Brollachan before he was eventually bested.

It’s exactly what I need, and when my lip splits open beneath his fist, I lick away the blood with a salacious grin.

I order him not to hold back. He obeys, and we repeatedly wrestle each other to the ground with grunts and hisses and snarls.

“Your Majesty,” someone interrupts. “The blacksmiths have finished. We’re ready.”

It’s enough to halt my spar.