Page 193 of A Courage of the Chosen

“Gramps, please, I need you here. Protect the city at all costs.”

“No.” His eyes are stern as he tightens the belt at his hips. He has two swords secured in their sheathes, and the pouch we added for all our soldiers to fill with flame creeper grenades.

“Please,” I beg one last time. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

His scowl deepens, his strong shoulders squared. “I told you the last time you left me behind that I will not be sidelined again, Elspeth.” He softens as he comes close, placing his hands on the tops of my arms. “This is my fight, too. The city will be just fine without me.”

When I don’t reply, he whispers, “I can’t lose anyone else either.”

“Gramps . . .” I begin, my throat heavy again.

“If I’m going to die, let it be at your side.”

The thought of it is almost enough to force Grandpa to stay here, as his queen, and prevent that from coming true.

But I don’t have it in me to deny him revenge.

“Okay,” I murmur.

His hands drop, and the thread yanks around my abdomen, as though it’s urging me to move faster.

Turning to the door, ready to sprint through the palace, Grandpa grips my arm. “Wait, you’re missing something.”

He hurries off into the closet and returns with something silver in his hand, emerald flickering deep green in the morning light.

The crown.

I’d grabbed it from the forest floor as it rolled off Raghnall’s head, when Brodie relieved his body from it. I threw it in there when we got back, and had honestly forgotten about it.

Physically, it’s no heavier than a headband, but when Grandpa nestles it into the braid I quickly secured my hair in, it bears down on me. Being queen has felt somewhat conceptual, until the innocuous metal touches my head.

“There.” Moisture gathers along his lower lashes. “Now this world knows who is their savior.”

I close my eyes when he presses a kiss to my forehead, allowing a final moment where I’m only his granddaughter, still Elsie Aitken—a book lover from Brooklyn—and nothing more.

That serenity is shattered when he pulls away.

The hopes of an entire realm are reflected in his pale-blue gaze, and for once, I take strength in it.

I was chosen.

This is my destiny.

And there’s no more room left to run away from it.

“Let’s go,” Grandpa says, and with him by my side, we sprint through the palace after hasty goodbyes with Finneus and Freya.

The stables are empty when we arrive, save for one saddled horse, who waits impatiently in her enclosure.

“She refused to let anyone else ride her when the armies left,” the hand says as I open the latch to lead the stunning mare out.

Mabel juts her nose into my arm, and I run a hand down her dappled flank. “What say you, girl? Shall we go save the world?”

She shakes out her mane, and I mount her in one swift movement, Grandpa sweeping up behind me and securing his arms around my waist.

Mabel surges forward with little command and into the morning. The courtyard gates are already ajar, the path curving down toward the shores of Ederline. Mabel makes a beeline for it, as though she knows we need to ride fast and hard to reach them in time.

Them.