Page 64 of A Courage of the Chosen

He strides over to one of the chairs and runs his hand over the back of it. “Couldn’t we have brought the council here to show them, instead of using Dubh Fìrinn, if that was the case?”

I pause, the cushion I was beating back to life suspended mid-air. “I . . . technically, yes. But I’m going to pretend you didn’t suggest that and remain blissfully ignorant.”

Callahan scoffs, and joins me in giving the chairs a quick plump, to rid them of the misuse clinging there.

“You’re getting good at that,” Callahan says when I summon one of the Seòlta and a pen into my waiting palm.

I drop my eyes from his a little bashfully, and open the mystical sentry. It only showed me where to find a book in the chambers the first time, when I asked it for a portrait of Màiri Darrow. We’ve asked for help since, but the magical pages have remained blank in these underground caverns.

We’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s contained in here, pulling what we could find, but there has to be more that Finneus and I missed.

Show me everything there is on the Dorche, the first war with them, and Ishbel. I scribble the instruction down quickly, the ink disappearing into the page.

We wait a long, drawn-out minute while the magic decides if it’s going to help us or not.

Words begin to appear on the page.

All that is, belongs to you.

A phrase that follows me, yet has little meaning.

Or does it?

The Seòlta snaps shut, and its magic weaves through the cavern, spearing through five of the eight chamber doors. I waste no time in opening each of them, and the grinding of the ancient metal is a cacophony of anticipation that we could find something new.

I move to enter the first, “You search the one furthest,” I tell Callahan. He catches me by the wrist and tugs me so that I fall into his chest.

My breath whooshes out as he cups my face with the hand not holding my wrist. “What is it?”

“You,” he murmurs. “You’re amazing. And I continue to be surprised by you.”

Callahan plants a solitary kiss on my lips, and leaves me floundering as he heads into the chamber, disappearing into the tunnel dug deep into the mountain.

We pull around fifty books of different sizes from the chambers, some of them are ones that Finneus and I have already reviewed. And since we don’t need to hide what we’re doing anymore, we send them all to the desks, where we can pour through the ancient texts with more knowledge than we’ve had for the last century.

Finneus has moved to join us when we emerge from the sealed chambers with the last tomes in our arms.

“Not resting tonight, Finneus?” I ask as we join him.

“I’ve rested long enough, my dear. I might not be able to fight this war physically, but I’ll use every ounce of my brain power to discover that which has been hidden from us.”

There’s a steeliness to his voice that’s not usually there, and the look in his eyes flickers hauntingly. We’re both still healing from what we suffered at Raghnall and Tavish’s hands.

Callahan huffs quietly in approval, and together, we dive into the past, in the hopes it can save the future.

◆◆◆

It’s well past midnight when the sound of hurried footsteps splinters the hush that’s settled around the three of us while we’ve worked. Our eyes lift as one, and Eòghann hastily rounds the shelves without disturbing the child bundled in his arms.

Callahan pushes to his feet, his entire body taut and alert, and my hand drifts to where Lumiathar is strapped to my hip, but the subtle shake of Eòghann’s head, and the sadness etched into his eyes makes my hand, and my stomach, drop.

“She collapsed at the palace gates,” Eòghann whispers.

Her breathing is raspy, and her frail, dirty body shivers in his arms.

“Give her to me,” Callahan reaches for her, taking the little girl in his arms with delicate movements. Mousy-brown hair that’s matted and grimy, parts to reveal a pale face, eyes shut, lips chattering a silent prayer.

I move closer to them, and pick up the mumbling coming from her that was too faint to hear from a distance.