Page 46 of A Courage of the Chosen

I drop his hand, and he curls his now empty one into a fist as he shuts away his softer side, hiding it behind the veil he uses when he’s retreating to what he knows, being grumpy and unapproachable.

Together, we head for the door to the kitchens, where palace staff are busy with the afternoon work. Colin, Reyne’s cousin, looks up from where he’s kneading bread on a butchers’ block at the far end of the room.

“Elsie?!” His soft brown eyes widen beneath the mop of dark red head hair that’s grown longer since the last time I saw him.

He hurries over, and wraps me into a hug while being careful to keep his hands, still coated in flour and bits of dough, away from me. “I’d heard you were back but could hardly believe it! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you as well, Colin. I’ve missed your tarts.”

He laughs loudly. “Well I know what I’m sending up for dessert tonight!”

The smile on my face isn’t forced like the one I just gave the Seelie at my back, and Callahan watches the easy interaction at a distance by the door. Colin spots him, and lowers his voice so the brooding warrior doesn’t hear him. “Who’s the walking storm cloud?”

I’ve said the same thing about him so many times, and in the beginning, I genuinely just thought he was an asshole, but I know better now. “That’s Callahan.”

Colin’s furtive smile falls. “Oh.”

His name has been heard too many times, with too many lies spread about him that he didn’t deserve. It has my back straightening, ready to defend him like I did in the council room yesterday.

“He’s not who you think he is,” I reply, with the feeling that I’m going to say that a lot. “I can’t say too much right now. Things are . . . complicated.”

Colin’s eyes flick between us. “Okay,” he says warily.

I step back, Callahan moving further into the kitchen with me. “Can’t wait for dessert,” I say with a grin that’s too forced to be genuine.

“I got you,” Colin winks, but the gesture is just as strained as mine.

Callahan and I walk through the corridors in silence while staff bustle past us. The guards stationed at the doors to the royal wing swing the heavy wooden door open, and when it clicks shut behind us, Callahan brushes his shoulder against mine. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Defend me when people realize who I am. I don’t care what they think of me.”

“That’s not the reason I did it. I know you don’t care.”

“Then why did you?”

I look up at him and wait for his gaze to find mine. “Because you don’t deserve the stares. The whispers. This world should know what you’ve done. How you’ve risked your life every day for almost your entire existence. I defend you because it’s the right thing to do.”

A splash of color filters in above the stubble on his cheeks. Bashful Callahan is one of the rarest, and one of my favorites.

I speak my next words into his mind. “And I told you that you’re safe with me. I meant every word.”

Yes, I’m still a little hurt at the way he reacted when I told him about the Craobh, and I’m actively keeping a secret, but Callahan should have someone in his corner unconditionally. He might have Brodie and Eòghann, and all those who have fought beside him, but intuition tells me that my support means something different to him.

That I mean something different to him.

◆◆◆

I sleep fitfully that night, too restless after dinner about what will happen at the next council meeting, and worrying about the supplies that left the city earlier that day whilst Callahan and I trained. Word from Callahan’s uncle was waiting for us when we returned to my rooms. They’d been able to gather what they needed quicker than anticipated and had already left. Lassodie would be the first town to get supplies.

Callahan asked him if he’d like to join the council meetings, at my request, but Lord Sellar declined, stating that he preferred to keep a low profile and thanked me for the honor of wanting to include him. It only heightened the mystery surrounding him.

The goal today is to discuss my claim to the throne. Or at least, that’s my plan.

Only Hector has openly acknowledged it, and has referred to me as ‘Your Majesty’ no matter how many times I’ve asked him to call me Elsie. His response was to tell me that’s okay in private, but he ought to show me the proper respect when around others. As much as I wanted to argue with him, he was right.

It’s clear the only people in that room I can trust are those I brought with me, and Hector.