The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

A Second Summoning

Callan glanced at Kaela, hoping for some sort of hint as to what she should do, but the elves flitted out the room, taking the light with them. Callan gritted her teeth, but didn't lower her arms despite the excruciating pain licking over her skin. Was this punishment for her many transgressions?

"I don't know how you can take this," Kaela grumbled. "It's ridiculous."

Callan sighed. "It's their culture, I guess."

"It is, but that's no reason for you to put yourself through it."

"It is when I want to fit in."

"Why would you? They're sadistic bitches."

"They're my people," Callan corrected, frowning. "Once I get used to all this, things'll be better."

Kaela snorted. "Anyway," she whispered. "Did you see it? The Oracle Stone's mark?"

The Stone marked her? "No, did you?" Callan asked, voice choked.

"No, but don't worry. The pain fades in a matter of hours."

"How do you know?"

"I have one too. Oracle Stones mark everyone given the Seed of Sylmion" The black spot the Tree had given Callan. She peeked toward her wrist, but it was too dark to see anything. Kaela continued all the while. "If I realized how the crowning would take place, I would have—"

The elves opened the door and sashayed in.

"—warned you," she finished even more softly than before. "Sorry."

Callan didn't have time to reply before the room lit up. Kaela drew a chair into her line of sight and sat down. Frowning, Callan stole a peek at her wrist. The black spot had vanished without a trace.

Questions rushed through Callan's head, but she didn't voice them. Kaela wouldn't answer anyway. At least Callan was now certain the stone hadn't tormented her because she'd forgotten to brush under her fingernails. But what had the test been for?

An army of servants came in, proudly carrying a bathtub, buckets of water and various oils and soaps. Callan stared as they went through a ceremony—a whole entire ceremony—to fill the bath and pour something nice-smelling into the water.

All while she stood posed in a torturous position.

They couldn't be serious. Really. Did they have a parade every time someone wanted to take a bath, or was it all just for her? Maybe this was done on short notice. Maybe next time they'd be accompanied by music.

Callan briefly closed her eyes and willed herself not to shake her head. Of course, there wasn't anything wrong with any of this. She should have been grateful. They wanted to treat her as one of their own.

It was just...strange.

The servants trooped out and Faye's ladies changed Callan's position, drawing a pained moan from her. The sound earned her impatient sighs from the elves and an even more impossible position. This time Callan bit back any sound threatening to escape. Only after ten counts of her bearing her position in silence did the elves guide her into the bath.

It was hot.

Not scalding, but hot enough that Callan gritted her teeth to keep quiet. She peeked to Kaela, who grimaced in sympathy.

Faye stood back, observing the way the ladies scrubbed Callan. They weren't gentle. The one who did her back was harsh. Almost as if she tried to scrub off the mark etched into Callan's skin. It took all of her self-control not to lose consciousness. She sat still, focusing on Kaela's pained expression while clenching her jaw so hard it hurt.

This was much easier than it had been to keep quiet through the Oracle Stone's test.

"Good," Faye said after an eternity.

The others helped Callan out of the tub, facing her toward Faye. Her eyes glinted with malice. Hatred.

Why? They'd just met. What did Faye hate her for?

But hate her Faye did.

Callan met her gaze anyway. She couldn't cower from Faye any more than she did from her brother. Faye's eyes narrowed as they stared at each other. She wanted Callan to recoil. To flinch back again. To be weak.

She'd have to live with disappointment.

Even when the ladies dried Callan off, she didn't wince. Not once. Her jaw throbbed.

Faye broke eye-contact first, joining her ladies when they started to dress Callan. Silence became a seventh presence in the room. As time stretched, Callan's muscles quivered while the ladies got her into her sleeveless under-under-dress. The cloth was almost see-through and the style simple, but they took an unendurable time to get it on and pin it closed at the shoulders.

After that, the elves pulled the under-dress over her and repeated the process of pinning the tops of her sleeves closed, this time with beautiful silver brooches running all the way down to the hems.

Finally, they pulled the over-dress over her head. It was still white, but the sleeves belled out, wide and open, in order to show the jewels running down her arms. The dress skimmed down her torso and gently widened to her ankles. Except for the jewels running up her arms, it felt as if she wore nothing at all.

Good thing too. Her muscles cramped so much they wouldn't have been able to wear anything heavier.

A brush was presented to Faye with plenty of pomp and circumstance and she combed through Callan's hair exactly two hundred times. Two hundred excruciatingly slow times. The process took hours. Kaela had nodded off sometime during the procedure, and as she'd promised, Callan's mark stopped burning.

The sun's first golden green rays peeped through the leaves and into her room by the time the elves placed the crown on her head. The two other blondes put on her shoes and she was ready. She got four more swan neck bows before the elves floated out of the room. Even from Faye, who bowed and walked away without looking at Callan once. Almost like they hadn't had a battle of wills all morning.

Maybe Faye didn't hate her. Maybe it was all in Callan's mind. Wasn't it? Faye was antagonistic and rude, but then, the elves had been sullen every single time Callan had had anything to do with them. It could be a culture thing. Callan just had to get used to it.

She still sighed with relief and peeked to Kaela. Still sleeping.

Callan took a few steps away into the sun's rays and inspected her outfit. For all the torture it caused her, the dress was just right. It was only fitting that she resembled a princess. The dress was gorgeous, unlike anything she'd ever worn in her life. Her under-dress shimmered like water under her over-dress's filmy white cloth. She closed her eyes and twirled. The sun's warmth greeted her, reminding her of all the springtime twirling she used to do with her mother. She pirouetted a few times. Her head spun when she stopped and she giggled at her silliness.

The smile dropped from her face when she found Eoin and Quinlan standing at the door, staring.

She touched a hand to her crown to make sure it was still on straight. It was. At least she had a bit of dignity left to cling to.

Eoin cleared his throat and glanced away for a second. "The king will see you now." 

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Let me know what you think of this section! Do you think Faye hates Callan? If so, why?