Page 187 of A Courage of the Chosen

“We’re gonna need all of them.”

Brodie winks. “I always liked you, Red.”

“Eyes on the enemy, big guy,” she quips as she and Eòghann sprint away hand in hand. “Don’t die! Either of you!” she shouts over her shoulder as they disappear into the forest, a few units following them.

Thankfully, it takes time for the Dorche to reload, and in the brief reprieve we get while there are less foes and the catapults are out of action, Elsie’s forces manage to pull back into some kind of formation.

“Get as far up the hill as fast as you can! We need to get out of range of those launchers, but not too close.” My words are repeated in a cascade through the entire army, and as one, we sprint up.

My hair is damp on my forehead, and the pommel is slick in my grip, but I’m steady as we rush the waiting Dorche.

I don’t hear the snap of his fingers, just see the evidence of it. Not twenty feet in front of me, where there were bloodthirsty, corrupted Seelie waiting, a line of Brollachan open their jaws, shadows spilling between pointed teeth, created only to rip through sinew and bone. Not a single man or woman is left, the entire horde now a barrage of nightmares.

Dismounted from his horse, my cousin is no longer anything I recognize either. He easily clears the head of the large steed by another three feet. His tan features, that bear some resemblance to mine have shifted and warped into something between a wolf and a Brollachan. Hazel eyes, that were a mix of his father’s and my aunt’s, are now insidious pools of power that have faint lines of mist streaking through them.

His maw is peeled back to expose dark canines, dripping with his power, thick ropes of muscle sit beneath his blackened, scale-like skin, and his fingers end in claws that put Raghnall’s beast to shame.

He was made for destruction. Crafted of doom and malice.

And he’s no longer content waiting on the sidelines.

Chapter 55

Elsie

“Ishbel? Why do I know that name?” Rach taps her chin, completely oblivious to the truth bomb Dhia—Ishbel—just dropped.

“She was the first Seelie queen. Ishbel defeated the original Dorche. Sacrificed everything,” I whisper in awe. That’s what the Craobh had shown me. Ishbel and her journey.

Rach blinks a couple of times, mouth dropping open then closing again. “I have so many questions, and no idea where to start.”

Ishbel smiles. “Sit with me, and I’ll explain.”

She gestures for us to follow, and folds herself with elegance to lean her back against the tree. Rach and I drop to the ground with far less ceremony, crossing our legs to listen to her tale like eager schoolchildren.

“I gave my life to bring an end to the war that almost destroyed my people. I’d brought them together, they trusted me to rule them fairly and peacefully, and I couldn’t protect them from those who opposed it. They didn’t want a queen, much less one who had more power than them. So they rebelled.”

Ishbel picks at a few blades of grass between her fingers as she tells her story, one that I don’t think has ever been heard like this.

“You saw what happened to my family, in chambers not far from here. They were carved open and their power stolen from them.” Ishbel’s green eyes flick to mine and I have to look away.

That’s what Tavish tried to do to me. If he’d succeeded, that’s how I’d have ended up. Ishbel was there with me, kept me sane when I was close to letting go. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, she would comfort me in the only way she could.

That shared history stretches between us.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Rach mumbles. “That must’ve been awful.”

“It was a long time ago now, but when I found them, a part of me knew that it would only end one way. Something I fought for a long time.”

This time, her and Rach exchange a look that my friend brings to an abrupt end with her next question. “So what happened? How did they rise?”

Ishbel holds out her palm, her skin now pale and creamy, and summons light that calls to my own. My hand mimics hers, and in unison, we craft our magic into small spheres.

“When I was a girl, Seelie wielded much like they do now, some able to conjure mist, and some of us had the gift of light, too. There were more light wielders back then, and while it was considered a great power, it wasn’t uncommon like Elfayne knows it to be today.”

Ishbel’s magic floats away from her toward mine, where they orbit each other, hers a paler blue-tinted color, thanks to the otherworldly power in her.

“But they weren’t the only powers that existed.”