Page 25 of A Courage of the Chosen

Hector snaps his fingers and the table extends on his whim, two new chairs are drawn up at the far end. Callahan and Brodie move to join us, but I hold up a hand, stopping them.

I smirk down at Hume, feeling the power shining from the depths of my eyes. I speak low and clear so he doesn’t misunderstand. “Move.”

I’m making a statement, I know I am. But Hume cannot continue to disrespect me the way he has. This council needs to know that I’m not a doormat to be walked all over because they think they can keep my crown from me.

I’ve spent too much of my life, and the last few days, biting my tongue out of fear of the repercussions. That needs to change. And I’m starting right now.

“I beg your pardon,” he spits, shocked eyes blown wide.

“Pardon granted. Now, move.” I jut my chin at the seat furthest away from me.

Lady Calder smothers her laugh, and Hector watches the scene unfold with a barely contained smile.

When Hume doesn’t immediately obey my command, Lord Haddow clears his throat. “Lord Renfrow, let us begin today’s proceedings without any further delay.”

Hume rises from his seat, the molten fires of rage burning in his beady eyes as he walks slowly toward the far end of the table. The scrape of wood over stone is obnoxiously loud, but I don’t back down from his glare until he’s seated where I instructed.

I gesture for Brodie and Callahan to sit. Brodie takes the vacant space opposite Hume, and grins at him deviously while linking his massive hands in front of him.

Callahan’s footsteps bounce around the room as he strides to the empty seat on my right. I’ve carefully kept the bridge from opening between us, not wanting to meet the same wall I felt yesterday. I’ve also not looked into his eyes since he walked away from me, too afraid to see that disappointment I glimpsed in him.

My chest prickles where our connection lives as Callahan tries to pry it open. I’m not prepared to speak with him. Not here, not now. Not when I’m hurting from the way he left, and when I have to share the same information all over again with others who are far more critical of me.

When everyone is settled, I take a single breath and rip off the band-aid. “There’s something else you all need to know before we begin.”

Brodie’s smile drops, and Callahan tenses in my periphery. The bond in my chest tingles harder as the man to my right attempts to communicate with me.

I ignore them all, and focus on forming the words that need to be said.

“The Dorche have the Craobh Beatha.”

Eyes cast down, the flicker of the fire along the far wall becomes a roar in my ears. Their judgment scrapes through the hush, and with each beat that passes, this mistake consumes me as shame coats my skin.

A knee brushes against mine.

I jolt with the contact, and snap my gaze to the roiling storm clouds of Callahan’s.

The same mask he always wears is fixed in place, but he nudges my knee again at the same time the tingling sensation in my chest grows more insistent.

I’m a weak woman. Weak for him, and the way his consciousness slots with mine like they were always meant to be. It takes a lot of effort from me not to give in to him, and the unrelenting way he pokes at our bond for me to open it.

A tiny crack forms, not enough for him to speak along it, just enough of a fracture in my walls for some of his emotion to seep in. His regret tastes bitter in the back of my mouth.

I suppress the sob that wants to work its way free with tight lips, and a mirthless laugh from the far end of the table quickly distracts me.

“We may as well slit our own throats then. You’ve doomed us all. I knew you’d fail.” Hume laughs again.

All that bravado I had when I moved him is gone in the wake of my incompetence.

And the harsh reality? I completely agree with him.

Brodie growls at Hume, hands fisted with restraint. I haven’t seen Brodie angry very often. Hardly, in fact. But the tension locking his muscles tells me he’d very much like to punch Hume in his poisonous mouth.

“I think you’ve said more than enough today, Lord Renfrow,” Lord Garside speaks calmly. Of all the council, he’s the most level-headed, and hasn’t devolved into the petty arguments the others seem to have done. “Perhaps you should take your leave for the day.”

“But I—”

Lord Garside cuts him off. “Will have nothing to add to the planning. I will personally inform you of the outcomes following today’s meeting. But you should take your leave, before you are removed.” Glances are cast firstly toward Brodie, and then to Callahan, whose gaze has turned from indifferent to colder than the Arctic.