The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

Reunion

Two hours. It had taken sixteen elves two hours to dress Callan in what resembled a black jumpsuit with loose legs and flowing, off-the-shoulder sleeves. Golden embroidery spanned her abdomen, making any jewelry unnecessary. They'd let Callan's hair hang loose and packed her crown into her luggage. How the hell had they taken two hours?

She shook her head in amazement and descended the spiral walkway around the gigantic tree's trunk, surrounded by her black-clad elvish entourage. They carried on with their conversations, ignoring her. She suppressed a sigh, but couldn't dislodge the loneliness settling within her. If it hadn't been for Quin and Kaela, she would have been completely isolated. Now Kaela had gone to Nordaine to fetch Darrion and Gawain. Where was Quin?

Crowds of elves waited on the ground, waving and shouting things to those who'd accompany her to Caranth. When Callan's carriage came into view, she smiled a little. Golden leaves and branches spanned across the carriage's structure, making it appear as alive as the four magnificent grey horses pulling it. She drew her gaze away and searched for her grandfather, but by the time she reached the carriage, she still hadn't caught a glimpse of him.

Callan sighed. Couldn't he have come to say good bye? After everything she'd agreed to do for him? No, that was selfish of her. He had a country to rule and probably got caught up in something more important than seeing her off. She straightened her shoulders and let Eoin help her into the carriage. Quin sat inside by the window, absorbed in cleaning his sword, despite the fact it already gleamed in the forest's soft green light. She closed the door quietly and sat down opposite him.

He could now hold the cloth. Stark white bandages stood out against his tanned hands, probably full of Kaela's healing balm.

Some elves shouted her name outside, so she waved as the carriage rolled into motion. At least the commoners appreciated her.

"What are you thinking?" Quin asked, drawing her attention away from the passing crowds.

"I'm wondering if your cuts will scar."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Yes, they will. Kaela made a potion to heal my cuts without taking away the scars."

"Are they like reminders?"

"They are the reminders." He sat back and inspected her. "Faye sure knows what looks best on you."

Callan's cheeks burned, but she couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or annoyance. "Um...I guess..."

He shook his head. "You should learn to accept compliments with grace."

"Oh really?"

"If I compliment you, and you react like that, you're implying that I have bad taste. I happen to be proud of my taste."

"Sorry," she started, "it's just..." How could she explain how she felt about her appearance? She gave up on putting it into words and shrugged. "It's complicated."

Quin lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. After a while, he continued to polish his sword. She turned toward the window and watched the trees flash by. The carriage slowed about a half an hour later, coming to a complete halt.

"Must be Gawain and the others." She pulled the curtain aside, but couldn't see a cause for delay.

"Kaela mentioned you looked very different when she first saw you," Quin said out of the blue. "You had a mess of mousy curls. Made you look pretty, but a bit plain. Did someone make you hide your beauty?"

Callan's guards hurried toward the front of the carriage. They didn't appear too worried, so she had nothing to do but answer Quin. The scars on his hands forbade her to lie to him.