Page 3 of A Courage of the Chosen

An taghadh.

The Chosen would come and restore true balance to the Seelie realm, leading them all into an age of peace like no other.

The Chosen would come, and all that is would belong to her.

Chapter 1

Elsie - Present Day

It’s been five months since I left Elfayne City alongside someone I thought I could trust. I rode away, leaving a piece of my heart behind with the knowledge that I wouldn’t be coming back as I returned to Brooklyn.

Life had other plans for me.

Some of them I remain grateful for, others will haunt my dreams for as long as I’m alive.

Now, the wooden gates loom before me as I wait for them to open. When they do, I will ride through the streets as a Seelie who has come to claim what is rightfully mine. A title that still doesn’t seem tangible or real.

Queen of Elfayne.

While the Seelie in me is entirely at home in the stone walls of the city, the rest of me can’t outride the sense of dread as to what comes next.

My hand moves to my chest, still clad in my blood and mud-covered armor, to the empty space where the Craobh Beatha would normally rest. My stomach tumbles with the reminder of just how badly I’ve failed this world before even being accepted as their ruler.

Whenever I pause for more than a few minutes, the victory in Tavish’s hazel depths as he scooped my family heirloom off the ground haunts me like salt in a wound that continues to fester.

I haven’t stopped since he disappeared in the tendrils of his power, refusing to allow myself the opportunity to linger on what happened. It was only yesterday, but time has stretched with a cruel reminder that the Dorche will grow in strength the longer they have the Craobh, and that death seems to follow me no matter where I go, those I care about the most paying the price for the way it shadows me.

If it weren’t for what I needed to do right now, the number of people who have suffered because of me would drag me down into a pit of misery.

I don’t know what fate has planned for Elfayne, or the one I called home for twenty-five years. It all depends on the steps we take now, and how prepared we are when we face the Dorche again.

After making sure the dead had been gathered off the field, and the injured were being seen to, I’d had a brief discussion with Brodie, the dark-haired warrior who was now leading the rebellion, and Hector, Reyne’s father and general of the royal armies. We agreed that Hector and I would ride for the capital the day after, once we’d said farewell at dawn to those we lost in the battle. I tried not to think about the bodies that piled high, or the smell of their flesh as it burnt.

There was a distinct presence missing at my side as we watched those funeral pyres. Someone who would have wanted to pay his respects to those who’d given their lives to a war that’s taken so much.

Blood. A darkness-tipped dagger piercing his flesh. The silence along our bond when he’d finally succumbed to the strength of the shadows.

With a shuddering breath, I put the things I don’t want to face into the barely-sealed boxes at the back of my mind. My focus pulls back to the wooden gates, and the guards along them who train their arrows on me, ready to strike at the small unit I’ve travelled with alongside Reyne and Rachel—the women who have become my family by choice—and Hector.

The majority of my army has remained on the field where I condemned this world. Brodie and Eòghann remained with them, making sure what was left of the rebellion rode back to the city with the rest of the royal army in a few days’ time.

“Who goes there?” one of the guards demands of our party.

Hector is the first to move forward, lowering his hood.

His hair is unmistakable, the red strands bright beneath the mid-morning sun. As soon as they see him, weapons are lowered and the soldiers stand to attention. The air is crisp with the promise of fall, and the armor of the guards along the stone wall glints as we wait.

“Open the gates,” Hector commands.

“Aye, General,” they reply with urgency, and one of them calls out to let us pass.

The heavy wood groans as it’s pulled open a few short minutes later, my heart thudding heavily. There hasn’t been any time to wash my armor, or make myself more presentable for the moment I would walk through the halls of the palace.

When the gates are open wide enough, Hector is the first to nudge his horse into motion, the rest of us following as we ride into Elfayne City.

Seelie go about their day, eyeing us as we trot through the wide cobblestone streets. Tall golden lampposts line the path, interspersed with trees that are bustling with the peace provided by the city walls, a protection not afforded to all the people of this world.

The first time I saw this city, nestled into a valley surrounded by soaring mountains, I was struck with the wonder of it. The quiet magical beauty it held. It has the same impact now, but it’s not just awe that curls through me. I take in the homes, the faces, and wonder what will happen in the battles to come. Will Elfayne City know the heartache of destruction like other towns and villages have? Will these streets be turned black with lack of life?