The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

Alfen Cairn

"Callan, you're going to have to trust me," Quinlan said next to her a few seconds later. "Fall to your left."

Did she really have to? Unlike when she was brought here, her hands weren't tied. Still, dismounting without being able to see didn't sound like a good idea. "Or, you could let me take this blindfold off and I'll get down on my own."

"Not yet. Come on."

Ugh. The idea of contact with the creep repulsed her, but if she fought him on this, he'd probably yank her off the horse, injury or no. All Nordian military officers seemed to share that sort of arrogance. The worst of course, was Darrion, with his dark features and overbearing personality. She didn't regret leaving him behind. Not for a second.

His best friend Gawain, though... She'd left him minutes ago, and she already missed the way his green eyes danced and how his chocolate brown curls fell over his brow.

No. She shouldn't even think of him. She needed to look ahead and keep going.

Callan steeled herself and gave Quinlan one curt nod. "Fine. On the count of three."

"One...two..."

"Three," she said and slid to the left as ordered. The sensation of falling floated through her briefly before her shoulder hit his chest and his arms cradled her. He carried her a few feet away and set her down.

"Isn't this bad for your wound?" she asked, sidling away from him.

"I'll live."

Okay then.

"I'm going to lead you for a little while. We can take your blindfold off soon," Kaela said and took hold of her shoulders.

Callan nodded and Kaela guided her forward.

After five faltering steps, Callan's feet hit hard, even ground. Cold seeped into her slippered feet and the lock clicked behind her. She stretched her hands out to her sides. Her fingers brushed over a cold stone wall to her left. A few seconds later they touched nothing. The pattern repeated about five times before Quinlan pushed her hand down.

The cold permeated Callan's clothes, reminding her of the last time she was here. Gawain, Darrion and their small army had saved her somewhere in this hallway. Rescued her from a group of red-clad soldiers hell-bent on forcing her into their country.

Not to mention their psychotic leader, who had nearly strangled her for defying him. She'd killed him instead in her struggle to escape. In the darkness, the image of her cutting his face open haunted her, but not as much as the moment when she'd plunged the knife into his shoulder. Surely it had hit his heart.

Gasping softly, Callan rubbed her arms to ward off the memories. She needed to focus on the here and now. "Are we back on Earth?"

"We're neither here nor there. Earth is just beyond another door." Quinlan took hold of her hand and Callan stiffened. The last time she'd let him touch her, he'd insulted her in front of Gawain and Darrion. "I'm only going to lead you down a set of steps. Relax."

Kaela released Callan's shoulders. "Just a few steps and you can see again."

"I have to ask you something," Quinlan whispered by her ear. Another door clicked open. The one leading into Alfen Cairn. "Please speak to us in English from now on. Your new family won't be thrilled by the fact you speak our language as well as theirs."

"Why?" Callan asked, frowning. The languages her parents had taught her were the only things she had left of them. She felt her way through the doorway, swallowing down her nerves.

"Let's just say they're very proud of their heritage. And they think we're... Kaela, how shall I put it?"

"Trash?" Kaela supplied, her voice airy and uncaring.

Callan's heart stumbled. Were the elves really that snobbish? Surely not, but she liked Kaela, and they must have known more about the elves than she did.

"Do you think they'll like me?" she asked. "I mean...I have no clue about my heritage."

"There would have to be something wrong with Keill not to like you," Kaela said, patting her shoulder. "Just..." She hesitated as if trying to figure out how to speak whatever was on her mind.

"Don't expect any warm displays of affection," Quinlan put in. "They're all about rigid emotional control."

"We're at the steps now," Kaela said before Callan could ask for more information.

Quinlan led Callan down. As soon as Kaela shut the door behind them, goose bumps prickled Callan's skin. She could feel hostile gazes pointed at them from every direction as surely as Quinlan's firm grip on her hand.

"How many are there?" she whispered, heart rate ramping up.

"It's only the three of us."

Sweat rolled down her neck. The focus on her increased once they reached even ground. "Can't be."

"See for yourself," Quinlan said and untied the blindfold.

Light stung her eyes. They watered even though she blinked as fast as she could. Glare replaced the morning haze she'd left in Sylmion.

She squeezed her eyes shut and waited. When she opened them again, she could make out a forest. Tall, thick trees stood like sentinels, their wild branches reaching in all directions and tangling in each other. Their leafy tops meshed together, throwing the ground beneath into murky, almost ominous shadow. She searched the branches for the people staring at her, but came up empty. But then, anything could hide in the chaotic network of branches. Or maybe she was being paranoid.

Kaela jogged down the steps and Callan frowned, glancing at Quinlan. They resembled each other, even though Quinlan's brown eyes didn't match Kaela's silver ones. Both had dark brown hair. Quinlan's were cut into bristles. Their features were similar, but the scar running from the corner of Kaela's left eye to her chin marred her beauty just a bit more.

"There," Kaela said, returning to Callan's side. "I wonder how long we'll have to wait."

A twig snapped and the forest's edge came to life. Leaves rustled and moved even though the air was still. Quinlan and Kaela both went for their weapons.

Thirty elves appeared between the trees, bows drawn.    

Ouch. Not exactly the warm welcome Callan had hoped for. What do you hope happens next? 

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