Page 28 of A Courage of the Chosen

We don’t know where they’re hiding, except that it’s somewhere in the mountain-dense North, and we have no idea how strong they truly are, either. Just two of the millions of other questions that remain unanswered. Like, what the fuck this connection is between me and Tavish? Why can’t I block him completely the way I can with Callahan? And why does he want my power so badly?

“We need to focus on our own efforts, so that we can be ready when they do make their presence known,” Callahan adds when the discussion turns to where they could be hiding. “It’s no use wasting valuable resources trying to find them.”

The room agrees, and by the time day comes to a close, it feels like we finally have concrete plans. So much so that a collective decision is made that we don’t need to meet tomorrow, since the focus needs to be on readying the shipments.

But we will meet the day after that, to discuss another matter.

My claim to the throne.

Chapter 9

Elsie

I wander the halls of the palace aimlessly. Dinner will be waiting for me in my rooms, as will Reyne and Rach, ready to ask me how today has gone and further their plans to inflict bodily harm on Hume.

Something stops me heading straight back there, a restlessness that prowls beneath my skin. It’s only been five days since the battle, and already the anxiety of what’s to come is tying me up in knots. There’s a part of me that hopes Tavish and Raghnall will reveal their hands sooner rather than later. The other part of me hopes they never do.

Lost in my thoughts, I find myself at an arch that’s as familiar as the front door to Granny and Grandpa’s house. The library is cast in darkness, aside from a bubble of light from the hall, and a cold permeates from it as though it hasn’t been occupied in a long time. I suppose it hasn’t, since Finneus was taken and is yet to return.

The invisible barrier that appears when my great-uncle isn’t here bumps up against my outstretched palm. The hours I spent lost in the cavernous space surface, and the memories of that person I used to be a reminder of how drastically my life has changed. I had time to grieve and heal then. Time to be afraid. Now it seems like a luxury I can’t afford. I have to keep myself together while steadfastly stepping forward, lives depend on it.

I lean more of my weight into the unseen wall, a selfish part of me yearning for the freedom of one simple hour where I can get lost in the books I haven’t had the chance to read in a while.

Although, one hour is never enough when the book is good. I tell myself ‘just one more chapter’, and the next thing I know, it’s three in the morning and I’m full of regret.

My chuckle is flat, the days of worrying about being tired for my morning meetings seem like more of a fantasy than the stories I consumed.

Between one blink and the next, the wall evaporates and I tumble, catching myself before I faceplant.

I hesitate on the threshold, waiting for the barrier to reappear and keep me out. When it doesn’t, the lure of stories, and the smell of the dusty pages is too strong of a pull for me to resist, and I move further into the space.

My steps are muffled by the battered rug that lines the stone, and the lights in the chandeliers flicker on instantly like they’re welcoming me home.

Papers are strewn across Finneus’s desk, an organized chaos of knowledge in which he’s given his life to for hundreds of years. I long to see him sat in his chair, peering at me over the rim of his glasses with a knowing smile as I ask him question after question about the Seelie world.

After witnessing his torture at the end of Raghnall’s blade as he was sliced into over and over again, and then poisoned by Dorche magic, I need to replace his screams with something else. My feet carry me forward and I quickly get lost in the stacks, the ancient leather-bound Seòlta in their place upon their pedestals.

Rounding a towering shelf, I enter the spot where I’d spent so many hours buried in research, combing through this library.

The desks used to stand in neat rows, and now three of them lie on their sides and the rest are all askew, glass from the shattered green lamps is all over the carpet, and books are haphazardly scattered across the ground.

This must be where Finneus was snatched by Raghnall’s men, and the library sealed itself shut in his continued absence.

I find it hard to believe that no one has tried to come here. That no one saw this mess and made sure it was cleaned. It’s kind of insulting they didn’t deem it important enough. With a huff of breath, I begin gathering the books, and stack them on the desks that remain standing before reshelving them. Some I recognize as ones I’d pulled out myself, with the hope of discovering a way to defeat the Dorche.

Looking back now, it’s obvious that Finneus humored my efforts to help. What would I have found here that he couldn’t have? It wasn’t until I managed to open the Darrow chambers, and gave him access to texts that hadn’t been touched since Granny and Murdoch were here, that we discovered anything new. Stories of the first Seelie queen, Ishbel, and how she gave everything to defeat the first rising of the Dorche.

A pile of ash sits beneath a particularly large book that’s lying open on the floor, spine facing the stone ceiling.

“The Seòlta tried to step in, but I stopped fighting when those hooligans started burning them.” Finneus told me in those dank cells while we were captive and separated by stone.

My chest constricts.

Such senseless violence. And for what? One man on a power trip? Raghnall took Finneus because he believed he knew something about my abilities, and punished him mercilessly for failing to come forward about who I was.

I slam the heavy novel down with more force than necessary, and growl.

“What did the book do?”