Page 177 of A Courage of the Chosen

If anyone were to look through this pad, they’d find every single emotion that she unknowingly projects to those around her, and the ones she saves only for me.

It’s a love letter to her that maybe I’ll share one day.

People drop by often. Mother, Uncle, Reyne, Eòghann, Paul, Lorna. A steady rotation of visitors that ask the same questions over and over again.

“How are they?”

“Any change?”

“Is there anything I can do?”

I owe Finneus an apology, because he was the last one here this morning, and I snarled my reply to his perfectly reasonable enquiry as to when the last time I ate was.

He didn’t seem offended, and not long after he left there was a tray laden with breakfast, being brought in by a member of staff with a sheepish expression.

“Forgive me for the intrusion, sir. I was asked to bring this to you.”

The other trays of food sent by magic have remained untouched, and I’d be willing to wager a significant amount that this is my mother’s doing.

With a sigh, I rise from my seat and beat back the irritation, stretching out muscles that have been idle for too long.

“Thank you,” I offer the young man, who can’t quite look me in the eye. He doesn’t leave after he places the food on the table near the large window in mine and Elsie’s bedroom.

“You can go.”

“Um . . . I was instructed to make sure you eat something.”

I cock a brow. “And you can tell my mother to mind her own business.”

The Seelie flushes, but he still doesn’t move.

“Fine,” I bite out.

Sitting at the table, I pile food onto a plate, and mindlessly shovel, with zero awareness of what I’m actually putting into my mouth.

When the Seelie, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than on the receiving end of my death-glare, still doesn’t leave, I ask. “She told you to watch me clear my plate, didn’t she?”

He flushes bright red. “Aye, sir. Forgive me.”

Shaking my head, and giving myself indigestion, I make quick work of the food, but take my time with the coffee, since it’s the only flavor that registers. It goes down deliciously.

“I hope she insisted that Brodie eat, too.”

“She did, sir. Although she seemed satisfied that he would actually eat the food brought to him.”

He takes the tray, and awkwardly bows while stuttering another apology on his way out.

Finneus is a snitch, and while I will apologize, I’m also going to ask him why he ran straight to my mother with reports of my mood.

Lorna is the next to visit. On the hour, every hour, the woman arrives and performs the same assessments every time.

No change.

The news puts me into an even worse mood, and the edginess from yesterday that had banked some, roars back to life.

It’s not the only feeling that stirs. Things have been too quiet lately, and Tavish still hasn’t made his move after we killed his father. The cliff we’ve been waiting for is crawling near, and something is about to push us off the other side.

I can only hope that Elsie is awake when it happens.