Page 45 of A Courage of the Chosen

His mist-shield disappears as he grabs my ankle and drags me close to him. “If you’re going for the high-kick, make sure it lands.”

He lets me go and I recenter myself, studying him for the tell I still haven’t been able to work out after all this time.

Jaw tensed, I launch myself at him. And as usual, he catches me and puts me on my ass.

“Come on, Elsie,” I groan to myself. If I can’t beat Callahan, how can I ever hope to beat—

“You can’t beat me, little warrior.”

The growl that slips from me makes Callahan pause and lower his weapon. “That’s enough for today.”

He’s panting, we both are. Sweat cascades down his face and sticks to his shirt in an obscene way that makes me forget there’s still a fair few Seelie watching us.

I don’t want to stop, and the request to keep going bubbles behind my lips, but the tired pinch around the edge of Callahan’s eyes is the only outward sign that he’s near his limit. He and Brodie went at each other like feral animals, so it’s no wonder he’s spent.

But it begs the question: why aren’t I? My muscles spasm and my lungs burn, but the fire in my heart hasn’t been dimmed the way it normally does when I train.

Callahan follows me over to the racks where we return our weapons. “Is everything okay?” he asks, taking the short sword from me.

“Yeah. Why?”

He scans the mostly empty yard before turning back to me. “There were moments during our training this afternoon where it looked like you’d gone somewhere else entirely. Like your body was there, but your mind wasn’t.”

He’s far too observant and I’m a terrible liar. Which doesn’t make for anything good when I’m keeping something from him. A pang of guilt punches through my chest.

I drop my eyes from Callahan’s, and head toward the palace with him hot on my heels, my gut churning with every step that he shadows.

“Elsie.” He stops me with a grip around my upper arm.

“Hmm?” I reply, only glancing at him briefly before shuffling out of his hold.

“What’s going on?”

I settle on a half-truth. “I keep thinking about all those that have been corrupted by them, and if there’s a way back to who they used to be.”

“No. There isn’t a way back. Anyone touched by that magic is better off dead. Not just for themselves, but those around them, too.”

He delivers the line so swiftly, so matter-of-fact, that I have a hard time looking back at him.

“Oh,” is all I can offer.

Callahan watches me intently, and the bond between us hums. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

I meet him on the bridge, offering him false reassurance and a smile that feels thin.

“Yeah.” The lie is bitter.

“Are you sure? You can . . . talk to me, you know.” He reaches for my hand, a rare look of vulnerability on his face.

I should tell him, be honest when he’s clearly trying so hard to let me in. Yet I’m unsure how he’ll react when he discovers that what happened when I faced Tavish is much worse than him taking the Craobh. That I wasn’t strong enough to stop Tavish getting under my skin.

Will he think I’m better off dead, too? After how he reacted the other night, self-preservation wins, and the secret buries itself a little deeper.

“I’m fine.”

Way to go. Clue him in with the universal signal for ‘you’re absolutely not fine’.

One brow lifts on Callahan’s handsome, sweat-soaked face. “I’ll pretend I believe you.”