Page 140 of A Courage of the Chosen

“Raghnall. She saved Elsie, shoved her out of the way of his magic, and then it was too late.”

“Is he dead?” Mother is decidedly gentle, given she’s asking about the man who has taken so much from her. Her husband. Her home. And now, her daughter.

“Very.”

Lorna ignores our conversation as she continues to work. “I’m keeping her sedated as per the queen’s instruction, but I must warn you, we’ve never been successful in removing the corruption of Dorche magic once it’s taken hold.”

The knot in my chest tightens, and the spark I’m denying exists dims a little further. I know there’s no coming back from the place my twin has gone, but the pesky little fuck still swims through my bloodstream.

Mother accepts the healer’s words gracefully, and rises as she brushes out the skirts she hastily threw on. “Thank you.”

She turns to her brother then, “Harris, have my things moved from your house to the palace. I want to be here with my daughter.”

“Whatever you need.” He leaves to execute her instruction, despite it being the middle of the night.

Elsie takes his place at the door. “I’ll have some extra things and a bed moved into the living room, so you’ll be comfortable.” Mother holds out her hand for Elsie to take, and she doesn’t hesitate to close the distance. “I’m so sorry, Freya. Is there anything I can do?”

Mother shakes her head with a sad smile. “You’ve done more than enough for Rachel. Just take care of my other baby.”

“I will.”

They talk about me like I’m not standing right here.

Elsie moves to my side, snaking one arm around my lower back and resting her other hand on my chest. “Come with me. We should get some sleep.”

I open my mouth, but she places a finger over my lips. “There’s nothing you can do here. We’re just down the hall and Lorna needs space to work.”

“Go,” Mother encourages. “Brodie won’t be far. We’ll be fine. Rest, Son.”

Elsie tugs me out of the room the same way she did Brodie, who’s sat on the light-blue sofa with his head buried in his hands. There’s an untouched plate of food in front of him, and a stack of pillows and blankets at the other end.

Over the years, we’ve had the odd clash over differing opinions on how to handle a situation, but we’ve never been so at odds with each other, or ready to tear into the other the way we were in the forest. I’ve never been on the receiving end of his particular brand of rage that makes him formidable in battle.

I need to mend things with him, but I’m aware neither of us are in the right headspace to reconcile tonight. So, I let Elsie lead me out of my sister’s rooms, back to ours, and into the bathroom.

She strips me out of my shoes and clothes before disposing of her own, and takes me into the large shower, where she turns the water to a scalding heat.

With gentle hands, she washes me, scrubbing the layers of blood and dirt off my skin. I stand there and let her. For once in my life allowing someone to take care of me instead of being the one in control.

I should’ve expected that she would see past the mask. I’ve made a conscious effort to not shut things off from her these last weeks, to show her that I’m all in, and I never knew how much I needed this. To be seen as a man and not a warrior. Needed someone to see my wounded, scarred heart, and accept it anyway. Now it lies at Elsie’s feet, hers to do whatever she wishes with it.

I take a moment to marvel at her beauty and strength. She’s been through this more than once, had someone ripped away by the Dorches’ cruelty, and yet she still stands with grace and purpose. I understand her desire for revenge more intimately than I ever have. I once told her, after her grandmother died, that she’s far stronger than I, and today that was proven. When Rachel was turned, I lost it.

Every lesson from Màiri, every lecture I gave Elsie about controlling her emotions, flew out the window in the face of true adversity. It was reminiscent of when Elsie had been taken by Tavish and I went to search for her. I’d lost it then, too. Truthfully, far worse than I did today.

But the realest, ugliest truth of it all? If it were Elsie lying in that bed, there’d have been no coming back for me. I would have been incapable of stopping myself. Elsie’s hand in mine was the only thing able to bring me back from the brink of destruction.

My thoughts stray to Brodie. My brother, who has always loved Rachel so completely and fearlessly. Even when he was angry at her for leaving, his heart never stopped beating for her. There was never anyone else for him, and now he sits by Rachel’s bedside, not knowing if he’ll ever have the chance to tell her he loves her again, or witness the way she softens when she hears it.

It could’ve been you, I think, as I look down at the woman now lathering shampoo into my hair, studying me from beneath wet lashes.

There is no world where I can live without her. It doesn’t matter what secret she’s keeping, nothing could take her from me. Not even death.

I don’t know if it’s the gravity of the events that have unfolded in the last few days, or the fact I was seconds away from losing Elsie again, but I can’t subdue the significance of my feelings for her any longer. So, I take her wrists in my grip and place her sud-soaked hands on my chest, where the organ that lives there beats for her alone.

“I love you, Elsie.”

She grows still beneath my touch, pupils dilating against the most stunning backdrop of pale-green, and I let every ounce of that love trickle down the glowing threads of our connection.