The Heir's Choice: The War of Six Crowns, #2

Chapter One

Castle Sylmion’s garden affronted Gawain’s senses. The lake shimmered too brightly. The fresh lawn was too bloody green. An almond blossom dropped onto his lap and he swiped it off, snarling.

He’d picked this spot because Callan would have liked the tree behind the bench. It was the prettiest place in the entire castle. Did she even notice it, or had she been too upset with him?

Did it matter? She’d all but fled out of his life a few minutes ago.

He should have stopped her. Hell, when he and Darrion had first saved her from the Merithian soldiers that had tried to kidnap her, he should have taken her straight back to Grayston Academy. It would have left her with thousands of questions, but he could have dealt with that.

This, he couldn’t handle.

He pulled at his curly hair, hanging his head and staring at his feet, trying to reel in his frustration. She had to insist on going to Alfen Cairn. Despite every single effort to stop her, she’d succeeded in getting permission to leave.

Why did she have to be so damned stubborn?

The elves wouldn’t be good to her. At best, they’d force her into their image and quench her spirit while doing it. At worst…

He should stop her. He rose from the bench and took a step forward. No. She wouldn’t listen. She needed to go through with her decision and find herself—or at least try. He knew that. Callan was like piece of crystal to him. She didn’t hide her feelings well, if one wanted to watch her. And oh, he did. She fascinated him.

Gawain inhaled the now cloying perfume from the gardens surrounding him. All this beauty and peace was simply wrong when he burned to go to Alfen Cairn and beat some sense into King Keill. It wouldn’t take long.

Once he was in the Hall of Doors, the distance between countries became irrelevant. He could make the trip in…maybe thirty minutes. If he could get the right keys from King Conal.

Yeah. Right. It would be a warm day in winter before Nordaine’s King would even think of letting Gawain attack his elvish counterpart. He sank back onto the bench.

Many people took love for granted, assuming it would always be there. Callan thirsted for it. What was more, she wanted so much to love others. Her soul cried out with need for it. Gawain, with his gift for reading souls, had been there to listen. And the elves would abuse the exact same need for love in order to get whatever it was that they wanted.

Gawain sighed and pressed his face to his hands, drawing his fingers through his hair once more.

Callan really shouldn’t be going to the elves.

Despite her almost crippling sense of isolation, she was strong. She made her own choices. She stubbornly went after what she wanted.

But she was vulnerable too.

She feared herself, which seemed so unnecessary. Yet…there was a strange darkness that appeared within her every so often. She kept it under control, though. Perhaps the fear of losing control motivated her decision to leave Tardith completely once she’d found out about her mother.

The elves wouldn’t let her go if they had a use for her. And a use for her they had, or they wouldn’t have claimed her. If she gave them the tiniest chance, they’d turn her fears and needs for acceptance against her to get what they wanted. They wouldn’t care.

She shouldn’t go to them. But damn it all, he couldn’t stop her.

Footsteps rustled the grass nearby and Gawain’s heart lurched. Now he was being stupid. She wouldn’t come back.

Besides, the footfalls were heavier. Darrion.

Hey, Darrion said from somewhere off to his side.

Hey. Gawain didn’t try and sound in the least happy. She should have stayed. The elves will destroy her.

Not your problem anymore. She left a few minutes ago.

Gawain’s heart clenched. Somehow, he summoned a smile for Darrion and lifted his head. He found Darrion leaning against the almond tree behind his bench, still wearing Nordaine’s black dress uniform. If only it were that easy.

Darrion crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. You should have proposed.

His words drew a laugh from Gawain. If only he knew. Due to Darrion’s mysterious issues with Callan, Gawain kept the truth back from him.

Gawain really could see himself married to her one day. If he could get her to stop fearing herself and to actually stay. Which he couldn’t. Because he wouldn’t see her again. That much she’d made clear, even if she didn’t know it. Gawain returned his gaze to the lake in front of them. Wouldn’t do to let Darrion see his smile fading away.

She’d have freaked out. Gawain sighed, straightening his back a bit more. I don’t like that she left.’

I never noticed, Darrion drawled.

Gawain chuckled and shook his head. Darrion’s dry humor always made things better. No, really. It’s not just me. Too much is going on.

Yeah. Darrion sat down next to him. First the Knight, then Callan. Both times the reds.

King Aurek of Icaimerith had been remarkably busy lately. It set Gawain on edge.

Aurek’s red-clad soldiers had captured the single most important Nordian after the King—his only remaining blood heir. More than that, they’d known where the Knight was, when he was there, and where the Knight’s guards had been at their most vulnerable. All this, when no one outside Nordaine was supposed to know anything. Not their structure. Not the identity of their leadership. Even Nordaine’s very existence was a secret.

Not even Nordaine’s spies in Aurek’s court knew how or where to find the capital city, Sylmion.

As if that didn’t stretch belief far enough, Aurek’s men had tried to kidnap Callan from earth. Callan, who happened to be an elvish princess no one had known about until the elves had claimed her.

So how did Aurek know any of those things? And what the hell did he want with Callan?

Exactly, Gawain said, and now, we’ve let Callan ride into a lion’s den.

Because King Keill wouldn’t hesitate to hand her over to Aurek if he saw it as being in his interests. Bugger that he was Callan’s grandfather. She’d just be a pound of meat. A pawn in a larger political game. A game Nordaine was unwillingly being dragged into.

Darrion’s brows drew together. She had a choice.

I know, Gawain moaned. I made sure she did.

You had Kaela take her to the tree.

Yes. It had been such a bloody good plan. Callan liked Kaela, so she hadn’t suspected anything when Kaela happened to take her to the Tree of Sylmion. The Tree picked Callan as one of Nordaine’s Saints. The ruling class. Callan had the black mark on her wrist to prove it.

It should have been enough to keep her here, but of course, she somehow wrapped the King around her little finger and got what she wanted anyway.

And still, Callan chose to leave, Darrion said, again reasoning away Gawain’s sense of guilt. You can’t do more.

Gawain knew that, but it still didn’t make him feel better about Callan going to the elves. Yeah.

Darrion slapped Gawain’s back and gave his shoulder a brotherly squeeze. You need to focus on Nordaine, though. We’re in serious trouble.

I know, Gawain said. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his forehead. If Darrion failed to bring the Knight back, he might as well say goodbye to his peaceful appointment as the Knight’s heir. Without the Knight safely back in Sylmion, civil war would almost certainly erupt in Nordaine. You ready for the rescue operation?

Darrion’s jaw set. We have to be.

Which was a problem in itself. The Knight would be kept in Inner Caranth. A castle almost as impregnable as Castle Sylmion.

And they had no idea about how to get in.

Chapter Two

Callan held onto Kaela as their horse cantered forward. Its hooves beat in cadence with Quinlan’s stallion next to them.

The desire to yank off her blindfold and see Sylmion one last time burned at her fingertips, but she resisted. Nordians were secretive. They wouldn’t take well to her defying their need to keep their secrets. Kaela had told Callan much more than anyone else would have wanted her to know, so she might not have minded. Quinlan would probably have a fit.

Lovely, having to travel with someone only marginally worse than Darrion. At least it seemed like the trip would be short. Her stomach fluttered. How short was this trip? Long enough for her to turn back if she had second thoughts?

No. She wouldn’t have second thoughts. Absolutely not. She’d made the right decision. No matter how grim Gawain had sounded, she needed to go to the elves because her mother had been one. It was the only way to find out about her mother’s past. It was Callan’s last hope of finding out who she was.

A princess?

Maybe.

The elvish king seemed to think so. The one time Callan had met him, he did resemble her. It had to be so. He wouldn’t have claimed her as his grandchild for no reason, would he?

No.

The fluttering turned into a storm of doubts, threatening to drown her in panic. What if everything Gawain had said about her grandfather was true? What if her mother had kept her from the elves for a reason?

Maybe the entity she kept caged inside her would break loose and hurt the king, just because he was the last family member she knew of. It wasn’t impossible. It had killed her parents. It had harmed and hurt dozens of people she liked, didn’t like, and didn’t even realize existed, just because.

Or worse, because she liked where she was. What if she liked her family? It would be like signing their death warrants.

No. She’d learned. She could keep the entity in check. All she needed to do was stay calm. Calm. Ha. She wasn’t calm now, and she hadn’t even left Sylmion.

Something wrong? Kaela asked in Nordian, jerking Callan’s thoughts out of the maelstrom of panic she’d inadvertently started. Hearing her father’s language brought her a measure of peace.

No, she said, keeping her voice airy. In reality, Callan oozed gratefulness for Kaela’s question. The girl, for being a badass fighter chick, was an absolute sweetheart.

Quinlan snorted.

I’m fine, Callan repeated, gritting her teeth. Why, of all people, did she have to go to Alfen Cairn with the guy who’d implied she was an easy lay? After she’d stayed up all night to save him from the terrible wound stretching up half his abdomen.

At least Kaela accompanied them, so Callan wouldn’t have to deal with the creep alone.

So, I’m a little nervous, she bit off. You’d be too if you were going to meet your grandfather—a king no less—for the first time in your life.

Technically, this would be the second time, but the first was so brief it couldn’t count.

Thankfully, Quinlan kept his mouth shut.

Kaela lightly patted her knee. If you don’t like the elves, you can always come back with us.

So you’re going all the way to Aldrithe with me?

We are. God help them if you want to come back and they bar your way.

Callan smiled, warmed by Kaela’s fierce loyalty. It was true. Callan could come back to Nordaine at any time, thanks to the key hanging around her neck under her jacket. King Conal had given it to her, and with it, an unprecedented choice to return.

Nordaine and quite a few other places were connected by a magic hallway filled with doors. Having a key meant she could go back to Nordaine, if she could find a way into the hallway first.

But she couldn’t return any more than she could stay in Alfen Cairn. No matter what she wanted, she simply couldn’t risk the safety of others by living with them. Or more specifically, by liking their company while living with them.

I’m sure it won’t be that bad, Callan said, more to herself than anyone else.

Quinlan’s grunt set her teeth on edge once more.

Anyway, she said, acting like he didn’t exist, are we going through the hallway that brought me here?

We are, Quinlan said, obviously unwilling to be ignored. More’s the pity. We’re going to use a door to Alfen Cairn that’s always unlocked.

That was too interesting to ignore. Why would they leave it open?

They don’t exactly have a choice in the matter, Quinlan said. A few centuries ago, there was a war for the keys, because everyone realized that he who held the most keys dominated the world, strategically. Keys got lost in the conflict, and replicas don’t work, because of the doors’ magic.

Oh. Callan frowned beneath her blindfold. Who won?

The war? Kaela chuckled. No one. It was so bloody and expensive, everyone had to stop or destroy themselves. In the end they declared a truce, and the Master made sure each country got its remaining keys back.

Who’s the Master?

The Master Mage, Quinlan said, sounding regretful. Unfortunately, the War of the Keys had damaged his order of magicians irreparably, which left him weakened. Some say it caused the impossible to happen and that he died.

Horrible.

Yeah. Personally, I think he just tired of the shit and bickering in Tardith, and took a prolonged holiday. I know I would.

But isn’t Nordaine part of Tardith? Callan asked, confused.

Yes, but we’re not inclined to mix with its squabbles. Luckily for us, elves had once built a huge stone wall to protect their lands. Now we use it to keep ourselves apart.

Why would you do that?

You don’t want to know, Quinlan drawled, but let’s just say that all involvement Tardithian politics ever inspire within Nordaine is to go take a bath and wash off the filth.

The horses came to a halt. A metallic click reached her ears. A lock. The sound jarred her, bringing home the strange reality she now lived. Eight days ago, she was a miserable foster kid from London. Now…now she was about to find out about her elvish family history in another world. And it all started because a red-clad army had tried to kidnap her and force her through a doorway just like the one Quinlan must have been opening.

Nerves hit her again and her breath caught in her throat. Nordaine felt so much safer now, compared to the rest of Tardith with its politics and unknown histories.

No.

She had to go to Alfen Cairn, and she would do so calmly, or she’d wake the entity. Which would be a complete nightmare.

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. Their uniforms exactly matched the foliage behind them. One young elf stepped into the clearing and approached them. He could have been quite handsome, with bright green eyes and golden hair. His hard, chiseled features and arrogantly set mouth ruined the image.

"Rakaln," Quinlan muttered and lifted his hand away from his sword. Kaela followed his example.

You blindfolded her like a common criminal? the elf demanded in English, stepping closer to Quinlan.

A scowl obscured Quinlan’s features, and he straightened his posture. We didn't get where we are by letting every person traipse around at will. Now back away, or I'll help you do so.

They stared at each other for a full minute, measuring, analyzing.

Callan sent an uncertain look to Kaela, but Kaela rolled her eyes and shook her head. Not even remotely alarmed by the turn of events or the thirty arrows pointed at them. Callan relaxed a little and waited. It took a few seconds longer for the elf to step back a couple of feet.

We will take possession of her now, the elf said with a haughty nod. Thank you for bringing her.

Callan gasped in outrage.

Possession? Kaela exclaimed, echoing Callan's thoughts. She's a human b—

She's no longer your concern. The elf turned his attention back to Quinlan. You would do well to muzzle your soldiers, Commander.

Quinlan squared his shoulders. Look. We have our orders. She is to be escorted all the way to Aldrithe.

She will be. Just not by the likes of you.

Quinlan's expression darkened.

This time, Kaela frowned. Commander, she whispered, but he ignored her and took a threatening step toward the elf.

Don't I get a say in this? Callan interjected, putting a hand on Quinlan's arm to stop him. Everyone in the area turned their eyes back to her. She obviously shouldn't have spoken, but she'd already taken the plunge. After all, she ventured on, how am I to know you won’t drown me in the nearest lake?

Are you questioning my honor, milady? The elf's eyes narrowed.

N-no, I... She faltered beneath the hostile weight of their gazes. She shook her head and summoned a smile for the elf. I'm just saying that I don't know you from the trees behind you.

The elf blinked a few times before frowning. I am Eoin Maerlar, future king of Alfen Cairn, and you would do well to learn your place to speak.

Wow. Darrion’s arrogance had nothing on this guy. Callan couldn’t let him walk over her. This world simply wasn’t a place for the meek. If she wanted respect, she needed to stand her ground. That was almost as important as being accepted by her family. Would she be, though? She’d obviously crossed some sort of line. Blood thundered in her ears. What was more important? Respect or Eoin’s acceptance? Acceptance or respect?

Both.

Eoin’s sneer grated her raw.

Very well. Then I'm going back. Callan’s hands clenched into fists. If he called her bluff, she’d never live it down.

The elf's expression darkened. If you leave, don't expect another invitation.

Callan's stomach turned, but she managed to offer him a cool smile. Careful, she countered, are you sure you'd prefer me to go?

Eoin gave her a death stare, which she met with the unfaltering mask of detachment she’d perfected over five years in the foster care system.

Let’s go, Quinlan said smoothly. Callan nodded and