Page 61 of A Courage of the Chosen

I offer him my hand in acceptance of what’s about to happen.

What are they going to ask? The quiet voice speaks in the back of my mind. For a moment, I question if I’m doing the right thing, there are secrets I’m hiding that could be forced out.

But I’ve backed myself into this corner, and it’ll be suspicious if I change my mind now. I’m trying to win them over, not add to their doubts about me. Not to mention the wariness it would raise for Cal.

Lord Haddow takes my wrist gently in one hand, reaching for a thin blade with the other. The tip is cool when he presses it into my palm, his brown-and-green-flecked eyes lifting to mine for final permission, mustache twitching.

My head dips once, and I swallow back the memories of a different knife held against my flesh. A different Seelie watching me as I bled at his hands.

The edges of my vision blur, and Lord Haddow looks up from where my pulse begins to thrum against his fingers. Air fights to get into my lungs, and everything narrows to the point of this scrawny dagger, ready to slice me open.

A large hand rests on my shoulder, fingers pressing in, and it pulls me back. The blurred edges come into focus again, and oxygen drags in through my clenched teeth.

I’m not there. I’m safe.

Tavish will never hold me captive again.

As the panic fades, shame follows. Color rising up my neck and into my cheeks. My chin sinks to my chest, the only way I can hide. I didn’t want everyone to see that weakness. To see how the horrors of what I’ve been through haunt me.

“Should I continue?” Lord Haddow’s voice has dropped to a low murmur, sympathy lining his features.

I clear my throat to make sure the words are clear. “Yes.”

He lowers his head, and with practiced ease, cuts into me, carving some kind of rune into my skin before blood pools there.

Immediately, my Seelie body tries to stitch me back together, but he reaches for the seeds and sprinkles them into the wound. My magic pushes against them, trying to find a way around whatever it is they’re doing to stop me healing.

Lord Haddow grabs the Black Truth and Callahan shifts so his warmth sears into me with how near he stands. I hold onto it, wrapping my consciousness around the way he grounds me.

With steady hands, Lord Haddow works the stopper on the vial loose. “Forgive me, my lady,” he says as he tips it, allowing six drops to fall into the growing pool of crimson in my palm.

“Dubh air an fhuil, fìrinn air an teanga, na biodh breugan air an innse,” he utters in an old language that tears me back to the chamber buried somewhere beneath this palace.

Fire sears through my body, lighting me from within. A raging inferno that promises to annihilate me into a pile of ash. It burns away anything else, and doesn’t allow me to spiral into my past or the fear of what I’m hiding. It keeps me suspended in the blazing, tormenting reality, where this is what I need to do to prove myself.

I keep my stare locked on Lord Haddow, who holds my wrist steady while tears gather in my eyes. I don’t scream, only bite the inside of my cheek as agony ripples through me endlessly.

Reyne shuffles forward, worry creasing her forehead as she stands by Callahan when the questioning begins.

“Who is your grandmother?” Lord Haddow asks in a clear voice.

“Màiri Darrow.” The reply forms without permission, the truth ripped from my soul and burning my mouth as I’m compelled to speak no lies.

There’s a lull where the tension in the room pulls taut.

“What happened to her?” This question comes from Lord Garside.

“She was murdered by the former prince.”

There. Deny that you silly fucks. The thought riots through my brain, the urge to scream and rage at them for not believing me. For making me bleed to demonstrate it, and for seeing the pain in Grandpa’s eyes and choosing to ignore it.

“Are you in alliance with the Dorche and seeking to tear us down from the inside?” Lady Navin asks, her nose upturned as though I’m beneath her.

Is this what they think of me? That I’ve come as Raghnall had, to unpick them from the core. My muscles cramp as my entire being throbs with the effects of the Black Truth.

“No,” I snarl, body twitching. Only held down by the grip Callahan has on my shoulder and Lord Haddow around my wrist.

Lord Fettis comes closer, putting himself in my line of sight. “Then what are your intentions here?”