Page 29 of A Courage of the Chosen

I whirl, gasping as magic immediately springs to my waiting palms. More terrifyingly, that new tune in my chest rushes with it, and sharpens the light that flickers through the swirling orbs of mist. Ice chases the warmth brought out by my power, and my skin flashes between searing hot and frozen.

Callahan props himself against the wooden shelves, his finely pressed shirt stretching over the thick muscles of his crossed arms as he hooks one ankle over another, with an unreadable face that observes me. I gather the threads between us before they reach for him instinctually, locking it down and calling everything back to where it belongs. It’s so easy to block him when I want to, so why is it so hard to keep Tavish out?

I turn my back on him, returning to my task of tidying up the space. Callahan silently joins me, and we work together to set the desks back in order. I keep my distance, both physically and emotionally. Whenever he gets too close, I move away. When he asks me a question, I either don’t reply, or respond with pointed fingers and hand gestures. Our bond thrums where he tries to open it, but I keep him out. The crack is still there, and as though he can sense it, he continues to channel his emotions toward me. I don’t process them, and let them wash over me like a tide on the sand.

Unsure what to do about the piles of ash, I leave them where they are for the time being, and make a mental note to speak to Reyne about getting someone in here to clean them away with the respect they deserve.

Once everything is back in order, I grab the nearest Seòlta, summon a pen from Finneus’s desk on wisps of mist, and scribble in the pages on where I can return the books. The magic of the library guardians springs forth, and the silvery threads weave their way through the stacks in every direction. Callahan blinks a couple of times as his eyes track the magic that’s remarkably similar to what our connection feels like.

Gathering books into my arms, I still refuse to meet his gaze when it darts back to me.

“Are you going to talk to me, Elsie?”

“I don’t really have anything to say to you, Callahan,” I reply, and the magic of the Seòlta guides me through the labyrinth.

He follows me into the stacks, jogging to catch up, and takes a few of the tomes I’m carrying. “That’s not true.”

He’s right. There’s lots I want to say, but I also don’t want to argue with him. If I open my mouth, I’m unsure whether I’ll shout or cry, and neither of those will help.

Instead, I say nothing.

“Fine. I’ll speak. I’m sorry.”

I stop dead in the aisle and Callahan avoids bumping into me. I round on him, and wait.

He runs one hand through his milk-chocolate hair and a single piece falls back onto his forehead, refusing to be tamed. “I shouldn’t have left the way I did last night.” He chances a step closer, and when I don’t retreat, he continues. “I was angry at the situation, and that you felt you needed to apologize. I see now that it would’ve seemed like I was angry at you, and I’m sorry for that.”

What a flimsy-ass excuse.

“Let’s be real here. You were angry at me, too,” I challenge, placing the books on a nearby shelf and folding my arms across my chest to hold myself together when he admits it.

He sighs. “I was.”

My feet shuffle away from him without any conscious thought, and tears gather in the corners of my eyes, ready for a repeat performance of last night.

I refuse to let them fall this time. He’s right to be angry, and I knew he would be.

“But after I left, I realized it wasn’t you that I was really angry at.” Callahan puts his own books down and steps even closer.

His openness makes me pause. I’m so used to Callahan being guarded and secretive, but the sincerity and the vulnerability he’s slowly revealing when we’re alone is disarming. It started in Lassodie, and continued last night over dinner.

He rubs his calloused hands up and down the tops of my arms. “It was misplaced. I was angry at myself. For letting him get the better of me and not being there to protect you.”

“It’s not your job to protect me,” I reply instantly. “This isn’t on you. It’s on me. I was supposed to keep it safe, and I let everyone down.”

A tear falls without my permission, and I shrug away from Callahan to swipe at it. He doesn’t let me get far, though.

“Look at me,” he demands. “There was nothing more you could have done. You were brave, and brilliant, and saved so many lives by facing him, mine included. You did not fail. Do you hear me?”

Callahan doesn’t coddle, and he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. It’s not in his nature. I want to believe him, I really do. But there’s no denying that I did fail. If I was stronger, or smarter, or quicker, the outcome would have been different.

However, it’s difficult to deny Callahan’s conviction, and it’s also making it hard to stay mad at him when his captivating eyes are wide, and his expression is rife with apology.

“Why didn’t you come back?” I whisper.

“Because I’m a stubborn arsehole.”

My lips twitch at the corner but the amusement fades quickly.