Page 10 of A Courage of the Chosen

We all rise from the table at the same time, Hector the only one bowing when I’m first to move. Hume scowls at me as I brush past him.

Hume hadn’t said much as I told my story. He asked a few questions, and launched a few scathing remarks my way, but he spent most of the time staring at me as though he was plotting all the ways he was going to end my life.

Hector follows me out the door, with Rach and Reyne close behind. He pulls his daughter into a quick hug before introducing himself properly to Rach. When she offers him her hand, Hector pushes it aside and tugs Rach into a hug as well.

Reyne giggles as Hector says, “Thank you for fighting alongside my daughter and keeping her safe.”

Rach pulls away from him with a wide smile. “I think she was the one keeping me safe, General.”

Hector laughs loudly. “Please, call me Hector.”

He turns and faces me before closing the distance between us, wrapping me in a similar embrace. I fold my arms around him, happy he doesn’t feel awkward around me now that I’m technically his queen. “I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened. If I had known . . .”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cut him off quickly. More than one person said that if they’d known the truth about Tavish and Raghnall, about who I was, they would’ve protected me. It doesn’t matter what they would have done. The past can’t be changed and I’ve made my peace with it. Mostly.

“I’m just grateful you believed Reyne. And me.”

Hector lets me go and places his hands on my shoulders. “My sword and my life are yours, Your Majesty.”

His words sober me, and there’s no mistaking the reality of what’s to come. What we all will face. Hector isn’t a stranger to battle, but this won’t be like one he’s ever fought in, one with so much at stake. “Don’t worry about the council. They’ll come round.”

Reyne scoffs behind him.

“Well. Most of them,” he adds. “Let’s get you some food and clean clothes, shall we?”

I nod gratefully, and follow him as he heads back toward the golden doors that now stand open for us.

We quickly cross into the hall of chambers, the curtains innocuously held open, and the jewel-toned, low-lying furniture empty of occupants seeking pleasure. When we pass the room where I saw Raghnall indulging in what a Seelie ball offers for those willing, I’m quick to focus my gaze ahead of me as we approach the rounded room that sits at the heart of the palace.

There are more guards in the space than the last time I was here, four stationed at each hallway as other staff members go about their tasks.

They show Hector the respect he commands as he takes a familiar path toward the royal quarters. It feels entirely different to walk these halls knowing they belong to me. I’d spent countless hours wandering them, and the library, learning what I could about this world.

At the thought of Finneus, who’s still healing back at Morven House after our time as prisoners, I turn to Rach and Reyne. “Can we have messages sent to Finneus and my grandpa? I want them to ride for the capital as soon as they’re able.”

“Already done, lass. Brodie sent them as we left the camp,” Reyne replies.

“Will your mom come, too?” I ask Rach.

Rach grins back at me. “She will. No doubt she’ll be gassed to be back.”

It’s been over one hundred and fifty years since Freya was in the palace, fleeing with her unborn children into the human world, before returning in secret to hide in Morven after she had given birth.

As we approach the large singular door into the private quarters of the royals, Hector addresses the guards stood on duty either side.

“This woman,” he gestures to me a pace behind him, “is to be allowed entry at any point. Am I clear?”

They snap to attention at his command. “Aye, General.”

Once we pass through the door into the bare hallways I ask, “Why didn’t we just tell them who I am?”

“We need to make a formal announcement. And there will need to be a coronation,” Hector replies. “It’s not proper for us to announce you yet without those things.”

“So I’m not queen until the coronation?”

Hector stops. “You are queen, Elsie. There is no denying that. But you do need more support on the council, and we need to be clear on the message we send. The coronation is a formality, and a way to celebrate the passing of the title.”

The notion doesn’t quite . . . sit. How can there be cause for celebration when a war is looming? The dice have been rolled, and we won the hand, but the game is still very much at play.