The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

A Vision of the Future

Quinlan raised his brows and pointed to himself.

"Must I go alone?" she asked, interpreting his actions. He gave her a tiny nod and smile.

Eoin narrowed his eyes at Quinlan, but smiled when he turned his attention back to Callan. "No, Your Highness. Whatever makes you comfortable. I will be sitting in at the king's request."

"In that case, I wish for the commander to accompany me."

Eoin's face twitched. "As you wish, Your Highness."

He led the way and Quinlan took her left arm, letting it lie in the air along his right before following after the elf. His hand enfolded hers from below.

Eoin kept his distance, so she took the chance to apologize. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

Quinlan's gaze softened and a small smile lifted his mouth's corners. "Same here. Both counts. How are you feeling?"

"Better, but exhausted."

He grimaced. "Sorry. The Ordeal's a bitch."

"You actually call it that?"

He grinned. "The Fun Ride was already taken."

Callan burst out laughing. Eoin glared at them over his shoulder and Callan bit the inside of her cheek to quiet down.

It felt funny to hold Quinlan's hand this way, although none of the elves passing by looked at her strangely. They just did that graceful bow of the neck and went on.

"Do I bow back?" she asked after the sixth elf bowed to her.

"No, you're higher born than anyone here. Even Eoin. You only bow to the king."

Another thing to learn at a moment's notice. "I can't bow like that."

"Yes you can. Just relax your neck and slightly bow your head."

"But—"

"Relax, Callan. He's no more anything than Eoin."

"He's king."

"And kings are no more or less human or elven than their subjects. They just have greater responsibility."

His slightly calloused hand squeezed hers. It calmed her far more than his words.

She wheezed a nervous laugh. "You have a strange view of kings."

"Only because I know a few."

He said it so casually. King Keill was family, but she had no idea of what to expect. What would her grandfather say when he saw her this time? Her stomach fluttered at the thought. Perhaps he'd tell her more about her mother. Did he know what happened to her father? Callan tried to order her thoughts, but too many questions crowded her mind. How would she ask them anyway, without speaking before being spoken to?

Eoin led them all the way to the top of the spiral and the guards immediately fanned the throne room's strange doors open. Quinlan squeezed her hand again and sent her a reassuring smile.

She faced forward and stepped onto the red-ochre runner. This time the hall was empty except for King Keill. He waited for her on his throne, watching her approach from the raised dais. Following Eoin and Quinlan's examples, she came to a halt before the steps. She bowed her head as gracefully as she could.

"Good," her grandfather said, "you look exactly as an elvish princess should, Callan."

She grinned, basking in his approval. The hell she went through to dress up was so worth it. "Thank you, sire."