Page 174 of A Courage of the Chosen

Paul follows me. “Watch her for me, Brodie?”

“Of course,” he responds instantly.

I don’t pause until I reach the giant doors that lead out to a balcony that overlooks the city, every step away from her makes the agitation rise, but equally allows me to catch my breath.

The day is overcast, the air biting, and the clouds a white that tells me snow is going to fall at any moment.

Paul joins me where I brace on the thick stone, staring unseeing at the kingdom that will bow to me when they learn of mine and Elsie’s union.

In my heart, I already know that if she doesn’t wake, I won’t rule in her stead. That throne is hers. Always was and always will be. There’s not a single piece of me that wants that title without her name attached to mine.

Suddenly, the thought of a world without Elsie in it is the final chink in the armor I’ve spent decades perfecting. It crumbles around me, and everything I’ve buried or refused to process in my many years as the rebellion leader bubbles to the surface in an unstoppable torrent.

I suppose I’m not surprised that this has happened. Was I ever destined to know anything other than blood, war, and misery? I had a snippet of something different with Elsie. In the light-ringed green of her eyes, I wanted a different life for the first time. I was even selfish enough to take it when I’m not worthy of her. She knows how much blood stains my hands, understands exactly what I’ve had to do to stop this world from falling, and she gave me her love anyway.

She deserves more. A life that is filled with happiness and joy and laughter, and whatever else she wants.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Paul asks.

I don’t miss a beat. “With my entire soul.”

He nods thoughtfully, and we fall into silence as I work to shift the knot in my throat.

“It’s worth it, you know. Even if I only had a handful of moments with Màiri before she was taken, I’d do it all again. The kind of love we had was worth every second of pain.”

My time spent with Elsie are some of the most precious memories I own. Even when she was cursing me, or scowling in my direction when she didn’t think I was looking, having her attention was addictive, and I’ve etched every moment with her into my brain so that I’ll never lose a single one of them.

To think we might not get any more is beyond what I can take.

I shoot down the bond, that’s hollow and fragile now the Seelie at the other end is gone, and I speak into the empty cavern of her mind. “Dhia, if you can hear me, send her back. She’s my everything. Don’t take her some place I can’t follow.”

Wetness scalds my cheek and I swipe at it, expecting to see ash or fire or lava, not the moisture of my own tears.

Paul’s hand braces on my shoulder as more of them follow. “She’s not done with this world yet. Not by a long shot.”

“How do you know?” I choke out. Fuck, my voice breaks, and I attempt to shift the thing preventing me from swallowing properly.

“Just a feeling,” he replies.

“Really fucking helpful.”

He chuckles once. “Màiri used to say it to me all the time, drove me mad. But it taught me to trust my instincts. Yours have gotten you this far. What do they tell you now?”

I turn inward at his question, and focus on the tether between the core of who we are. There’s no gaping hole, no missing part of me roaming in the afterlife, and as I reflect on what Paul said, my own voice speaks amid the gloom.

She’ll return to you.

It brings on a fresh wave of emotion, and for the first time in a century, I let the tears fall freely.

◆◆◆

It took me a few minutes to pull myself together, and to seal up the box that I’ve kept lidded for too long. Paul stays with me the whole time, quietly comforting me in the same way I did for him when Màiri died.

When I’m ready, we walk side by side through the halls in the same silence, until we return to my wife’s bedside.

Brodie is hovering in the doorframe between the bedroom and the living room, his head bouncing between the two resting women. If he could divert his eyes to watch both at the same time, I’m sure he would. I’d laugh, if the situation weren’t so fucking dire.

“You good?” he asks as I move around him, taking Elsie’s hand in mine.