Page 169 of A Courage of the Chosen

Strand by strand it dances into her, shadow blending with shadow as I carefully navigate through each joining.

“It’s working,” I say, keeping my focus locked on what I can see happening inside Rach. “It’s not fighting the fusion.”

Time stretches and bleeds, but I don’t dare to go any quicker in case one wrong move undoes all the progress I’ve made.

The people gathered at my back grow tense as the clock ticks by. Brodie wears a path in the stone floor, and Callahan is an immovable object, honed in on me with hawk-like precision.

Minutes pass, or it could be hours, all I know is that my forehead is wet with sweat, and the edges of my mind tremble with the effort of controlling every minuscule movement, but eventually, it’s done. There’s no part of Rachel’s magic that I’m not tethered to, and every ounce of her is attached to my own shadow magic.

“I’m going to begin drawing it out now.” It’s an effort to speak the words.

Callahan moves closer and Brodie stops his pacing.

“Be careful, Elsie,” Reyne warns. “For both your sakes.”

Whenever I’ve called my power back in the past, it was like an elastic band, releasing the tension and returning to its original shape. This feels as though I’m tugging on a rope with a dead weight on the end, and it takes every reserve of strength I have left to bring my magic back with Rachel’s in tow.

It comes, but very slowly.

Through the vision gifted to me by my light, red returns to Rachel’s veins. Starting at her fingers and toes, what was a black network of corruption becomes what it should be, and the more I tease out, the more of her Seelie life blood is restored.

My heart trips, but I beat down the rising excitement. There’s still so far to go, and I can’t allow too much hope to take root.

Instead, I focus on making sure her power stays infused with mine, and my shadows retreat the way they came. They rise out of Rachel, swirling around my forearm to where they eventually disappear at my elbow.

My muscles vibrate with the pressure, and more Dorche magic than I’ve ever known fills me.

Stop.

Some instinct buried deep within me warns that it’s too much, that I’m not capable of holding all of our combined strength.

I don’t listen.

This is why I was born, why I’m The Chosen. It has to be.

The tips of my fingers turn blue, and I’ve lost feeling in my toes as frost circulates with each labored beat of my heart. My beast roars in delight as it takes it all, growing and growing until it’s nearly all-consuming.

I begin to slump toward Rach, and Callahan’s arm slips around my waist as he holds me up. “I’ve got you.” His touch burns where he grips me.

“Nearly . . . there,” I grunt.

My light responds, chasing the Dorche magic quicker than I can control, and the heat soothes my Baltic hands and feet.

The last shadow-strand evaporates, and I collapse into the man behind me as everything in my body pauses in eerie stillness.

Reyne and Brodie step forward to gather around the bed as I battle to keep my eyes open, shivering in Callahan’s arms.

Brodie gives Rachel the potion Lorna uses to wake her up.

One drop. Two. Then three.

We watch, and we wait.

Please. Please. Please.

I couldn’t save Mom. Wasn’t strong enough to save Granny, and her death almost took Grandpa from me, too.

I bled at Tavish’s hands to spare Brodie and the rest of my friends. As I beg with fate to not take another important person from me, I’m acutely aware of the fact that the universe does not cater to the pleas of a desperate woman, no matter how hard they cry out.