The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

The Debriefing

Gawain blew at the curls lying against his forehead, trying his best to seem uninterested in what had happened between Quin and Callan. It must have been good for Quin. He hadn't been this relaxed in days. Which meant he'd forgiven Callan and the two of them would be all chummy again.

Quin met his eyes and smiled, giving Gawain a clear read of his soul. He narrowed his eyes at the blind loyalty and adoration he saw there.

Darrion paced across the council room, in his own world while he waited for the King. Strange how fast he'd snapped back to his surly attitude toward Callan. Gawain stared at him, trying to discern the root of his change towards her, but he frowned right back without giving a single glimpse of his soul. Fine then. Gawain would ask him straight out, later. After quite a few glasses of mulnich. If he didn't get drunk before Darrion did.

The grand doors swung open and two long lines of nobles marched in. First in the line to the left walked Jurian Gawain, Gawain's grandfather and head of the Murion family.

Darrion and Quin made their way to Gawain's sides and waited for the procession's arrival.

The Murion stopped before them and gave Gawain a tiny grin. "Well done, boy. You brought great honor to the family."

Never mind that the whole operation had been Darrion's. That he'd saved their asses when they were trapped in the dungeon. Or even the fact that Darrion was part of the family too. Gawain bit back all the words springing to his tongue and bowed. Now wasn't the time to challenge the Murion.

The old man turned his cold regard on Darrion and waited.

Darrion set his jaw, straightened and stared over his head as if he wasn't even there.

Quin bowed, but the old man waited for Darrion to submit to the age old tradition. Some of the other nobles coughed discreetly, impatiently waiting for the line to move.

"Bow, boy," the Murion commanded, voice shaking with rage at the affront.

It only served to bring a sardonic smile to Darrion's face. "No."

Quin groaned and whispers buzzed in the room. Gawain's heart swelled for his best friend and blood brother. Only one reason existed for Darrion to go this far in his disdain of the nobles.

"You dare to insult the head of your household?"

Darrion's smile broadened. "Are you sure you're still the head of my household? I did lead the rescue party, after all," he said almost too pleasantly. The Murion paled. "Have a seat, Lord Gawain."

Gawain chuckled while he bowed to the other four house heads. Darrion stood for the whole line. Surprisingly, the Waernich, Quin's father, chuckled. Darrion gave him an oddly civil nod back. What was with him? For someone who'd achieved his life-long wish, Darrion didn't look all that happy.

King Conal strode up to them, eyes dancing for the first time in days. He'd always secretly loved putting the Murion in place.

"So, my dear boy," he said to Darrion. "Is being the Knight everything you dreamed it would be?"

Darrion bowed with Quin and Gawain, then shrugged. "I can get used to it, sire. But there's something you need to know before we make this official."

What was it? Gawain frowned at him, but Darrion kept his attention on the King.

He nodded, sobering. "Very well. Let us get to our seats and finish the administration, shall we?"

Darrion nodded and the King went up the steps to his throne.