The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

Turns out, Callan heard James

Callan followed Mrs. Braden through the pristine house, keeping her expression blank. Behind her mask of indifference, Callan seethed over James Braden's insinuations. What gave him the right to judge her for something she had no control over? He had no more of a clue to her past than his parents.

She gripped the inside of her sweater's sleeve. His instant hatred didn't bode well. He looked sharp. If she didn't steer clear of him, he might find a way to make her time here worse. The whole situation made her queasy, but at least she knew what she was up against.

Iron Man, Ice Queen, Devil's Spawn, and the Honorable Mute.

She grinned, ducking her head so that Mrs. Braden wouldn't notice. Her stomach settled a bit.

What did it make her? What had James said? Little Orphan Annie.

Mrs. Braden halted by the bathroom. "Here you go."

Callan forced a shy smile and slipped in. After shutting the door, she went to the mirror for a hair and makeup check. Her reflection held the same interest as a plastic houseplant.

She nodded and sat down on the toilet lid, unable to escape the feeling of being trapped in a twisted dream.

Her real mum would never have done something like adopting a child without telling Callan. Hours of talks in their secret language, Laris, attested to that. No...her parents' secrecy had only extended as far as their pasts. It had hurt and when they died; it left her with almost nothing to connect to.

Diana's disregard of James gave Callan chills. Just like this tomb pretending to be a house. No wonder James was warped. Poor thing.

No. No sympathy. No emotions. No attachments. No involvement. They cost too much.

Mrs. Braden's inability to form warm attachments helped Callan. It meant that she'd be passed on as soon as the rumors surfaced. Or when the evil entity living inside her came out to play. Maybe sooner if James put up a big fight.

Callan pressed her hands to her neck and felt her pulse slow down. She had no illusions that this would be a permanent arrangement. She got up and flushed the toilet, then took her time washing her hands and taking a drink from the faucet. Her throat only ached a little. It always hurt when a new family member didn't like her—no matter how much she tried to stay aloof. At least her heart didn't break like it used to. Callan could face them all with the necessary composure now.

One last glance in the mirror to make sure. Her sad reflection's mouth lifted into a tiny smile. She used to dream of getting adopted by a rich family. This one had all the material security her eleven-year-old self had needed, but she'd craved warmth as well.

Oh the irony.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Meet Mrs. Braden where she'd be waiting right outside the door.

"Are you all right, darling?"

Darling? No endearments for James. Callan nodded, frowning at herself for sympathizing.

"Come with me," Diana Braden said.

Fine, then. Callan fell in step with the woman, following her into a corridor decorated in the same minimalist style as the foyer. It felt deserted. Unused. Hollow, like her parents' crypt.

The scent of new paint created the only contradiction to the tomb description.

Black sculptures broke the stark whiteness every now and then. Good thing. Everything was too Ice-Queen's-lair for Callan's taste. The black prevented the house from turning into a Zen theme park. Callan stopped in front of one sculpture serving as a fountain and listened to the receding clacks of Diana's heels. The gurgling water soothed her. The sculpture itself probably cost more than any of the houses she'd lived in.

They sure lived the good life, her temporary family. She didn't get it. All money, little to no affection. As opposed to what? Zero money and threats of getting beaten up or worse? Maybe there was something to living like this. Maybe...

She gave herself a mental slap and hurried to where a light shone on the white floors. She couldn't ever want this life. Not even for a heartbeat. 

I don't know why, but the last paragraph here just feels ominous to me. Probably because I know exactly what Callan's afraid of. 

I was wondering if you'd let me know what you're thinking of my current way of updating The Vanished Knight? Before, I just posted whole chapters regardless of length, but I think that made it difficult for everyone to read. So now, I'm splitting my chapters up into their scenes so they're shorter. But I'd like to know if you prefer chapter updates or scene by scene updates?

Thanks again for reading! Don't forget to vote if you liked the section. :-)