The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

Eoin

The elves' 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 turned away from Eoin, setting her jaw.

Damn her temper and her pride. Without getting to Aldrithe, she might never find out about her mother's past.

"No!" Eoin cleared his throat and addressed her as soon as she faced him. The smug look had dropped from his face. "I mean, please do not misunderstand me. I was trying to ensure that you left the rabble here."

She briefly closed her eyes, fighting not to seem too relieved. "The rabble, as you call them, are my friends."

Well, Kaela was, anyway.

The elf sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But—"

"No buts," Quinlan interrupted. "If the lady prefers to leave, it will be our pleasure to make sure she does."

Eoin hesitated. "Fine," he said at last, "but you will not involve yourselves in our business, in any way."

Quinlan sneered. "Far be it from me to be interested in your petty squabbles. I just want to finish my assignment."

The elf's jaw worked with the effort to keep his temper. "You two walk," he commanded with the tone of the offended conceited. "I am not going to let any of my people sacrifice their horses."

"No problem. Just bring the lady's horse," Quinlan said with a bland smile. "We should get going."

Eoin's face contorted with fury before he stalked away.

His entourage went about preparations for the trip. Callan sagged with relief, unsure whether she wanted to laugh or cry from it.

Ugh, Eoin makes me so angry. What do you think of him? 

Thanks for reading, everyone! The Heir's Choice is still climbing up the rankings. After a little more than a week, it's ranking at #574 for fantasy, and it's all thanks to you. So please keep telling your friends about the series and please keep reading, commenting and voting if you're enjoying the story. Together, we might be able to make The War of Six Crowns a huge thing.