Page 73 of A Courage of the Chosen

“Okay. Let’s get down to business.” Cait claps her hands once, eyes dancing with excitement.

She takes our measurements, scribbling everything down in a battered black book with focused precision. All the while, the four of us trade banter with each other. We properly introduced Cait and Rach, who is also promised a whole new wardrobe by Reyne’s aunt, and we catch up on everything that’s happened since we were last together. After lunch, where I could forget for a time, I feel the closest to myself than I have done in a long while.

Cait shows Rach and Reyne some gown options for tonight. Reyne chooses one in a dark purple that clings to her curvy frame, and doesn’t need any alteration thanks to the sky-high black heels she pairs with it. She looks stunning and dangerous. Poor Eòghann doesn’t stand a chance.

Rach selects a red one that I’m surprised to see her in. The bright color perfectly complements the olive tone of her skin, but is far more demure than the dresses I’ve seen her in previously. Back in Brooklyn, her rule was ‘the more skin, the better’.

The skirt of this dress is full, and layered in tulle. It falls off her hips perfectly, and the halterneck bodice is form-fitting, drawing attention to the way her gray eyes sparkle.

“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her as she twirls in front of the full-length mirror. “Brodie is gonna eat his heart out.”

“You’re going to have the court in the palm of your hands by the time I’m through with you all, trust me,” Cait quips, as she pins the small alterations she needs to make for Rach’s dress.

“Righto, lass. That’s you.” She gestures for Rach to carefully take the dress off before turning her attention to me.

“I won’t have time to make anything specifically for you by tonight, Elsie, but I can alter this.” She hurries out to the bedroom, where a final garment bag lies waiting.

We follow her out as she unzips it slowly, exposing a fitted gown in a deep shade of blue, shimmering as though tiny stars are embedded into the fabric itself. My fingers dust over the material, expecting to catch on the sequins stitched into the lace overlay, that will rise to my collar bone and cover my arms, but it’s buttery soft and delicate, like the wings of a butterfly.

It’s breathtaking, and easily the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.

“Fit for a queen, huh?” Cait teases. “I must admit, this fabric is one of my favorites.”

“Seems a shame to wear it tonight. It’s not a proper ball,” I breathe in wonder.

“Not officially, but you need to make an impression. And this . . . is a statement.”

She has me try it on, and trails of long gauzy material fall from my shoulders, following me in rivers of glittering ink. It’s almost a perfect fit, only the sweetheart neckline beneath the lace needs altering. It sits against my hips like a second skin, and flares out around my knees, where more sequin-laced fabric pools out.

Cait twists my hair into a crude up-do, and turns me so I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror.

I look . . . regal. And it’s the first time I’ve looked at my reflection and have seen a true queen looking back.

“It’s too much,” I whisper half-heartedly, because I’m a little bit obsessed with the woman I see.

“It’s not, lass.” Reyne stands next to me and pinches the fabric draped from my shoulder between her fingers. “It’s exactly enough.”

◆◆◆

The throne room is buzzing with every member of the court dressed in their finest. I’d said to Cait that this wasn’t a ball, but it may as well be. I’m grateful that this was the dress I chose to wear, with some persuasion from Rach, Cait, and Reyne.

The palace staff have clearly busted their asses off to get everything ready. Flags with the crest of Elfayne stitched in gold hang in the great hall, and tables are laden with food and drinks. Music softly plays in the background as hundreds upon hundreds of Seelie greet each other, engage in conversation, and laugh amongst themselves.

Their joy won’t last long. Perhaps they think Raghnall has returned, and this will be like any other night, filled with his false promises of safety and orgasms.

I stick to the shadows, skirting around the edges of it all, where no one spares me more than a cursory look, enjoying the final moments where I’m no one in a room full of importance.

“You were never no one, my queen.” My steps falter as Tavish whispers in the quiet reaches of my mind. He’s been absent recently, and I can’t decide if that’s something to celebrate. Is it because I’m better at keeping him out? Or because he’s planning something?

Cold creeps in around me, and suddenly I’m acutely aware of why I reacted the way I did when Callahan and Reyne called me ‘my queen’. Only one person uses that title, and I hate the way it sounds. The way possessiveness lurks beneath the words, as though he’s counting down the minutes until my submission.

It’s there now, stalking through the place I keep the bond between us confined to. He waits there, too, a presence that ebbs and flows like the tide, never fully receding no matter how much I want it to.

If I think about it too long, ice replaces the heat of my blood, and violence tingles at the tips of my fingers. The bloodthirsty beast ready for her revenge.

I pause, placing a hand on the cool marble wall to ground myself back in the present.

“I won’t wait forever.” And with his final threat, Tavish withdraws, leaving me fighting to catch my breath and breaking out in a cold sweat.