Page 147 of A Courage of the Chosen

Just as I’m to blame for the deaths of those humans.

The view beyond the windows of my rooms is deceptive, and in direct contradiction to the chaos of my thoughts. A quiet blanket of calm cocoons the city as fall is losing the fight against winter. More frost is creeping in, along with snow that edges further down the Jura as the days pass by.

The seasonal trees have shed their leaves, and the skies don’t hold daylight as long as they used to. It’s as though the realm is preparing for war, hunkering down and protecting itself.

Callahan is with Freya this evening, having dinner with her and his uncle, and I’ve taken the rare opportunity to spend some time alone, simmering over the conversation that unfolded between Tavish and I.

I sat by Rachel’s bedside while Brodie took a shower, and so wanted to tell her everything. To share what’s going on with my best friend and imagine what she’d say in response. She’d likely have applauded me biting back for a change, rather than trying to reason my way out of it.

Instead, I held her hand and fought the increasing sense of doom that grew every time I was with her. I didn’t, couldn’t, admit that there might not be a way out of this one. I don’t say that either, because it would probably result in a fight with someone.

The fire pops behind me, and the last of the sun dips behind the mountains as I tug the blanket draped around my shoulders tighter against the chill that’s snaking up my legs. The temperature has dropped in recent days. Callahan thinks we’ll get the first snow soon, which means the various hearths around the palace are lit more often than they’re not.

With the shift in seasons, the mood has changed with it. The staff pace through the halls quicker, and the council have grown more serious in our sessions. We’re sending out more supplies than ever, and after we told them what Tavish can do with the Craobh, it feels as though he’s stalking the corners of the council chamber, making everyone angsty.

It’s by no means like it was in my first few days here, where progress was stilted and Rach was planning to drop-kick them all, but the patience of my council is wearing thin. Even Lord Garside has broken his neutrality.

Hector and Callahan tell me that the armies are growing restless, like they can all sense the same thing that hauls me from sleep in the middle of the night.

It won’t be long now until our fates are decided, and that knowledge clenches in my belly every time the feeling creeps up on me.

Goosebumps continue to pebble on my lower body and spread until they reach my scalp. Someone watching from the shadows. And despite knowing I’ll find nothing, I glance over my shoulder.

The fire needs another log adding to it, and the book I’ve left on the arm of the sofa is about to clatter to the ground, but nothing is out of place. The sensation persists, an anticipation that something is coming.

Get a grip, I chide myself, turning back to the window as the moon breaks out from behind the clouds.

My heart races, my lungs stretched tight in my rib cage.

I place a palm on my chest and inhale through my nose, exhaling for longer through my mouth as I count the seconds.

It’s fine. We’re safe.

I repeat that mantra over and over in an attempt to soothe the anxiety.

My pulse thumps harder.

The edges of my vision swarm.

My magic rises to the surface to protect me from the threat of my own mind as I press my forehead against the cool glass, hoping it’ll ground me.

It doesn’t.

Tingles spread from the center of my chest, slowly at first. A little flutter that strengthens until there’s a thousand ants crawling over my torso. Then the first stab of awareness comes, more like a papercut that echoes from within.

This isn’t me. I’m not doing this.

The thought clangs through my mind as the pain grows in intensity, too, until it’s lashing through me, driving me to my knees.

I bow over, head low as my insides rupture, fracture, break. Tearing me apart from the very core.

Mist spills from me first, followed by my light. It coils around me protectively, soothing my skin where it caresses me.

A scream shreds my throat on the way out, and anguish ripples down my spine and into my legs. Every inch of my body is being carved open, and I stray between the present and my time in the dungeons, where Tavish would use his darkness on me.

The grip on the other side of my power falters when I think of him, and shadows worm their way through the barrier of Aotrom magic weaving around me.

“CALLAHAN!” I bellow for him, even though he’s not in the palace, as the world around me blurs in and out of focus.