Page 4 of A Courage of the Chosen

Nothing has changed. Horse-drawn carriages amble along, and the air is filled with the scent of baked goods and the sounds of bartering. It’s no different than when I left, yet I am entirely different as we make for the path toward the palace.

The structure stands tall and proud over the people that live here. Jutting from the towering Jura, dark gray roof tiles blend with the mountain face, while the pale stone reflects the afternoon sun. The golden-tipped turrets stationed at either end are a beacon, calling to me as I draw closer.

This was Granny’s home, and a place where I found sanctuary after feeling adrift for so long. Those memories are tainted for me after being cloaked in Tavish’s lies. Yet there’s no denying the peace my body yearns for in those walls. I have a feeling that my experience in the city this time is going to be entirely different.

We take a longer route, one less packed so that we can continue at a steady pace. The homes nearest the palace are spaced out, set back from the main street and fenced off by iron gates. They belong to the lords and ladies that attend court, and those who serve in the higher ranks of the royal army. Reyne’s family home is not too far from here.

The evenings I spent with her and Hector at dinner seem more than mere months ago as I ride between two of the Macleod family, both of their jaws set with fierce determination, focus locked in.

Wrought-golden gates swing open when we approach the palace boundary, guards already prepared for our arrival.

Stone gives way to gravel paths I’ve trodden many times, and I ride right up to the massive wooden doors that I’d last looked upon as Raghnall waved me off, thinking he’d finally rid himself of a problem. Well, the joke is on him, because I’m going to become the biggest fucking problem he’s ever going to face.

A guard steps forward to take Mabel’s reins as I swing down, boots landing with a thud as I wait for Rach and Reyne to dismount and join me.

Hector strides ahead, summoning those on duty in the hall to his side. He turns to me, and I give him the signal to do what needs to be done. Twenty soldiers follow him as they hurry through the great hall, disappearing from sight with their weapons drawn. Raghnall is somewhere in this palace, and Hector wanted to personally ensure he’s detained.

I teeter on the threshold, peering into the marbled hall. Gold veins weave through the floor and pillars, the sky bright and scattered with wispy clouds through the domed-glass ceiling that spans its length.

“Are you ready?” Reyne asks me.

I nod, squaring my shoulders. On the ride, she warned me that winning over the court, and the council, would be a challenge. Something I’d anticipated from the moment I accepted my title, yet felt like a distant reality. It’s not so distant anymore.

The people of Morven, the town the rebellion had hidden in for so long, welcomed me as their queen readily. I longed for the comfort of it now, the way the town lived amongst the trees like it had grown alongside the forest.

I was safe there. Trusted and believed, because I didn’t have to convince them that Raghnall’s rule was built on lies. He had no right to wear the crown after he’d stolen it from my great-grandfather.

The rest of Elfayne would be a different story. Many had seen Tavish fighting for them, and they believed Raghnall was on their side. Convincing them of their treachery wouldn’t be easy.

The ballroom, that’s often alive with the low chatter of Seelie at court, is steadfastly silent as we stride across it, our echoed footsteps the only sound in the cavernous space.

The doors that lead into the throne room are sealed shut, and golden giants are the only thing between me and my throne.

The ancient presence that’s been quiet in my heart since Tavish took the Craobh suddenly stirs. It’s not a voice, but a surge of pride that I’m where I should be, and the path I’ve chosen is the right one, no matter how much it scares me.

Reyne is quick to push the doors open.

My armor seems even dirtier against the pristine hall, like its brilliance shines a spotlight on the blood and sweat and mud that stains all three of us.

The heavy doors move as though in slow motion, perfectly framing the golden throne that’s centered on the dais at the far end of the room. The cracks have grown since I was last here. It’s barely holding itself together, and looks as though it would crumble the moment anyone sat on it. A reminder that we’re on the edge of it all. One wrong move away from losing everything.

I’m the first to walk forward, flanked by Rach and Reyne a step behind me. It’s only their presence that’s giving me the courage to keep going.

With these women by my side, I head to the door on the left behind the dais. Raised voices drift toward us. The fact that we can hear them from this far makes my stomach tumble to the soles of my feet.

My hand hesitates over the doorknob. There’s no undoing what’s been set in motion. No taking back what I showed on that battlefield. No taking back what was lost.

A thousand uncertainties hit me at once.

Will I make a good queen? Will I make Granny proud? Will we be defeated by the Dorche? Will the human world fall to the darkness?

Am I strong enough to do this?

My mind churns and my heart races, and the edges of my vision start to turn black as panic rises with each shallow breath. I draw my hand close to my torso and take a single step away.

Turning my back on the door, the muffled shouts add to the fear gnawing in my chest.

Rach is the first to step forward this time, her shape slightly blurry around the edges. Reyne moves a second later. They each take a hand and hold onto me tightly.