Page 114 of A Courage of the Chosen

As we exit our rooms, dressed in the lighter leather armor, a sword at each hip and a larger one down our backs, the silence becomes too much. “You’re quiet this morning.”

“Just thinking about the road ahead, the best route.”

I swallow the retort I want to say, and opt for something more polite instead. “Thank you for backing me. I know going to Ruival is dangerous.”

His shoulders relax a little, but his mouth retains some of the tension. “Of course.”

But that awkward fucking space balloons between us again and I can’t deal, so I address the bright pink elephant in the room. “About what Erin said . . . she’s just a kid, she doesn’t really understand what love is.”

He locks his reaction away, but his tone is softer when he says, “Yeah, exactly.”

“Can we just forget about it? You’ve been weird since she said it.”

Callahan scowls at that. “Like you’ve been weird since the battle?”

Well, hello, Asshole Callahan, it’s been a while.

“Hey.” I yank his wrist, and we stop in the barren halls of the royal wing.

He crosses his arms and waits me out.

Nerves flutter in my chest.

Damn him and his perceptiveness.

“Well?” he prods when I don’t say anything.

“It’s just been a lot. You’re forgetting this queen thing is a new world, and a lot to take on. Don’t turn this on me.”

His jaw twitches, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s forget about it then, like you said.”

His reply is clipped, his emotions secured behind walls of steel and stubbornness.

Something tells me that we’re not going to be forgetting anything any time soon.

◆◆◆

The stables are bustling when we arrive, Rach and Brodie prepping their horses with some help from Reyne and Eòghann.

Callahan immediately begins speaking to the nearest guard, and I join my friends, who have kindly saddled Mabel ready for me.

“What’s crawled up his arse this morning?” Brodie juts his chin at Callahan, whose expression is so hard it could cut stone.

“Don’t ask,” I grumble, and focus on securing my pack.

“Is there ever going to be a trip where you haven’t done something to piss him off before we leave?” Brodie teases.

I continue to fix the straps without looking at him. “Broderic?”

“Yeah, Queenie?”

“Fuck off.”

He laughs loudly, attracting the attention of everyone in the stables, including Callahan, who glowers in our direction.

Gone is the soft Callahan reserved only for me in private, and the stoic rebel leader has returned. The one who made me want to throat-punch him whenever he opened his mouth.

“Hurry up,” he scolds.