Page 74 of A Courage of the Chosen

Get it together, Elsie. We can’t lose our shit now. My internal voice, that is sometimes helpful and mostly sarcastic, is the thing that reorients my focus.

Room full of Seelie. Trap to set. Truth to be told. Throne to claim. Tonight isn’t just about telling them who I am, it’s about playing to the egos of the council, and ferreting out anyone who isn’t on our side.

I run my palms down the front of my dress, and shake myself as I begin pacing the room again, observing the people I’m going to be ruling over.

While Cait made the final alterations in the living area, Reyne styled my hair into a low bun and Rach did my make-up, keeping my features sharp but understated.

Studying the ladies that glide over the marble floors with an elegance I’ll never have, I tell myself that I at least look the part, even if I feel like an imposter in a world that’s supposed to be mine.

Callahan didn’t return after he was unceremoniously turfed out by Cait and his sister. Rach told me he would likely be preparing for tonight with their uncle, who I’d finally meet.

I’d wanted to have a few more moments alone with him before this evening. To just have him hold me while I was still Elsie and he was still Callahan. Something I really wish could’ve happened as the nerves tighten my stomach into knots.

Because my life is about to be radically different to how it was before.

Everyone is called into the throne room by a guard, his voice loud over the thrum of music and conversation, and I let Seelie make their way through before being one of the last to trail in.

I shuffle around the edges again, positioning myself to the left of the dais, in one of the shadowed alcoves on that side of the room.

The council stand around the golden throne, the fractures deeper than ever. Grandpa, Callahan, and Brodie stand with them, their presence is met with a buzz of recognition and confusion.

Somehow, Rach and Reyne find me in my hiding spot, each of them taking a hand. There are a lot of people in this room, and the faces start to blur together.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Reyne squeezes me. “You can, Elsie. You’ve done it before. It’s no different.”

Rach utters her agreement. “Remember who the eff you are.”

“Yeah, someone about to make a fool of herself in front of hundreds,” I retort.

“How about this.” Rach moves into my line of vision. “If you feel like it’s going sideways, make a fist behind your back and we’ll find a diversion. Deal?”

“What kind of diversion?” Reyne asks skeptically. Knowing Rach, it could be anything from streaking to starting a fire.

“No idea. I’ll think of something.”

“This feels a million miles from Brooklyn,” I chuckle.

Rachel sobers. “Because it is, babes,” she replies honestly.

Ain’t that the truth.

Together, we remain in the alcove as Lord Garside steps forward on the dais. The musicians halt their playing at his command, and every set of eyes beneath the glass ceiling turn in his direction.

“We’re with you,” Reyne assures me a final time.

“Remember the fist,” Rach whispers, and I nudge her with my elbow.

“My lords and ladies, thank you for gathering at such short notice.” His voice carries through the room easily, bouncing off the marble with authority. “And while we are happy to see you all in attendance, there is a purpose to summoning you. There is a story to be told, a deception to be unmasked, and a truth to be shared.”

The tension prickles the nape of my neck, the moment I’ve told myself I’m not ready for hurtling toward me at the speed of a freight train.

I can’t stop this, can’t outrun it. All I can do is brace for impact and hope I make it out the other side.

“But it is not I who must share it.”

My palms start to sweat, and my best friends—my sisters—look at me with final supportive smiles.