The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

Wedding Date

Callan carefully sat down on one of the garden's beautiful lawns. Faye would have her head if she got grass stains on her lovely spring green dress, or if she knew of the dagger Quin had strapped to Callan's calf as soon as the elves had left them alone.

She frowned. Fifty elvish guards loomed around her, cutting off her view of the castle gardens. Why did she need fifty guards, anyway?

Maybe she should go back to her suite and trade in soldiers for nobles. Her lessons. Her fittings. Her hair and dressings. The endless lectures on responsibility delivered by Eoin Maerlar.

Callan only needed a few moments of peace.

Another day had passed and King Aurek had yet to receive her at court. She didn't regret the delay one second. The longer she could go without facing the source of all her true fears, the better. Callan laid back and watched the clouds roll by.

No peace for her, though. Her guards didn't speak—they were forbidden to—but they made so much noise. Their mail clinked. Their scabbards slapped against their legs. They cleared their throats and sighed. Hundreds of little sounds meshed together until her temples throbbed.

A shadow fell over her before Faolan came into sight above, a dark grin distorting his scarred face. "Eoin said I'd find you out here."

Callan stood up, doing her best to hide her unease. What would the guards do if Faolan wanted to hurt her? What could they do? Because obviously Eoin shared Faolan's opinion about his rights when it came to her. His one blue eye glinted as he bent over her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. Callan swallowed, wishing with all her might that one of the Nordians were here. But they were out hunting for the Knight.

"We'll be married tomorrow morning," he said, standing straight again.

It took every ounce of self-control Callan had to smile. The repercussions of her displeasing him were much larger than his ability harm her.

"Good," she said, nodding. "I'll need to go prepare, then."

Faolan's arm shot around her waist and drew her to him. She gritted her teeth and kept her fake smile in place. If her dagger had been in her hand right then, she would have been sorely tempted to stab him again.

"I'll be gone for the rest of today," he said, stroking her face and neck. Her skin crawled. "Need to go make sure all is well on the Ladrian front."

"When will you be back?"

"In time for the wedding," he said, drawing her closer. "By the way, I think I've met your friend Quin before."

Callan went cold. Could he know about Quin being connected to the Knight? Because that put all of them in serious danger. "Oh? Where?"

He shrugged. "We were on different sides of a battle. I thought I'd killed him." She gasped and tried to turn, but Faolan's arms kept her in place. "You're very fond of him, I see." He grasped her chin, forcing her to face him. "Don't worry. You don't have to fear for him as long as he doesn't step out of line."

"He won't." She needed space. Faolan was too close.

His grasp on her tightened when she leaned away. "Oh, he might. Someone very important to him is my prisoner. I'd like to keep it that way. So if you like him even a little, make sure he stays out of my business."

"Okay," she whispered. "I should go."

"Of course," he said, then kissed her the same way he'd kissed her last night.

Callan's breath hitched. Chills covered her body even when he released her.

"Sorry for last night," he said, wearing a sheepish grin. His long scar skewed it. "I got a little over-eager to see you again."