The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

Reconcilliation

Oh, so Gawain hadn't given up on convincing her to stay. He'd tricked her to see her wrist. Well...if he thought the mark changed a thing, he'd have to find out the hard way. Stubborn ass.

He pulled her down a labyrinth of corridors and steps until they entered a hall empty except for Kaela.

She frowned. "Why are you yanking her around?"

"Where's the king?"

"Answer my question."

"Answer mine," he commanded.

She scowled as she folded her arms. "Council room."

Gawain nodded and charged forward.

"You might not want to interr—"

Gawain rushed down another corridor. He burst through the huge double doors at the end of it. The two guards next to them didn't even blink.

He halted and bowed to a man standing behind a long table stacked with papers and maps, dragging Callan into a bow with him. Five men including Darrion stood at the man's sides. Their eyes burned into Callan so sharply she scurried behind Gawain's back when she could stand up. Their gazes went through him as if he were made of glass.

Darrion's shoulders slumped and he swiped his hand down his face. "What is she doing here?"

"Your Majesty," Gawain said, pulling Callan closer, "she touched the tree." He pulled her into everyone's sight and revealed the spot on her wrist.

A collective intake of breath echoed in the room.

The king signaled for them to approach the table. Gawain drew her forward. With a bemused expression, the king reached over and took her hand to inspect the mark.

"There is no doubting it. This is the Seed of Sylmion." He fingered the spot and sighed heavily before his gray eyes met hers. "You're a Saint."

"A what?"

"Part of Nordaine's ruling class," Gawain said.

Callan frowned. Was this what Kaela wanted to talk about before? After Quinlan arrived, they never did get the chance. "No, that's impossible. I have no family here. My only connection to Nordaine died in England."

"You don't need much of a connection." Darrion trudged to her side and inspected the Seed. "You need only be invited to touch the tree."

Right...so suddenly, she had another reason to stay. She glowered at Gawain. "I don't really care," she said, feigning her best, haughtiest attitude. "When do I leave?"

"You don't." Darrion scowled and returned to the table. "More's the pity."

Callan clenched her jaw to keep some sort of hold on her temper. "Oh I'm sure that'll just thrill my grandfather."

Darrion slowly rotated on his heel, squinting at her. "Was that a threat?"

"Call it what you like," she shot back, squaring off against him.

The king burst out laughing and lightly socked Gawain's arm. "She really does resemble a Fury."

Callan broke eye contact to frown at the older man. How was she supposed to react to that?

Darrion's scowl darkened even further. "Probably as frigid."

Oh thank heavens. He was much easier. "Toward you?" Callan asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Bet your ass on it."

His expression slipped in surprise. Why? Didn't people ever stand up to him?

The king chuckled. "Stumped, Darrion?" He grinned at her when Darrion didn't reply. "That settles it. You're a Saint." He glanced to a smiling Gawain. "You'll get Miria to arrange a suitable place for her."