by Kumar, Lisa
Little had been decided. Not that anything ever was, at least not without a lot of deliberate thought and planning first. As king, his father would make the final decision but allowed the rest of the council their indecision for now. They had to undertake some course of action, though, in truth, he didn’t know what to suggest. All here knew well enough what plagued their land, but finding the solution was another matter entirely. No, there was no simple answer. A chill of foreboding settled over him. Looking to outside sources, ones not of their world, might have to be considered.
One of the councilors, an elvin male of indeterminate years with nondescript sandy hair, spoke. “The magic is not renewing itself, and what remains is disappearing. Without this magic, our defenses become weaker and the darkindred will soon overcome them. We have to restore balance before we lose all.”
His father’s advisor, Avrin, shook his head. “What do you propose we do? We know the connection, or lack thereof, between our worlds influences the drain. Both dimensions need to be brought back into balance. All that remains is how to do so. But unless the human world is ventured into, we’re at a loss for now.” He ended his short speech with a piercing look around the room.
The room went silent. Avrin said the one thing many were not ready to consider—that the human world might have the answer if they would only look there. Even Relian, favoring that some plan of action be implemented sooner than later, would pause in going that far. His people avoided the human world at almost any cost, though the exact reasons behind that had become murky. They kept themselves separate from humans for so long they were now an insular society, something he’d never before minded. But now…that world held her.
The king, who’d been quiet, held up his hand for silence. The deceptively young contours of his face were set into lines of implacability, and his calm, authoritative tone matched his outward mien. “These concerns are pressing upon everyone’s mind. Let us think on all we’ve discussed and start afresh tomorrow morning.” With a slight nod, he dismissed everyone but his son. “A moment with you, Relian.”
The weight of his father’s gray gaze burned an imaginary hole between Relian’s shoulder blades. He turned around and bowed, touching his fingertips to his forehead in a gesture of respect. “Yes, my king,” he answered formally, using his father’s title as everyone hadn’t yet vacated the room.
His father looked at him for a moment, a frown furrowing his brow. “You are not looking well rested, Relian. I believe you need a peaceful night to yourself.”
Relian’s mind froze at the use of his name. This, plus the concern in Talion’s voice, signaled that a torrent of parental interference awaited him. Best to stop it before it could be unleashed. “I have been busy, Father, as we all have been. We are full on all fronts with the enemy at hand, not to mention the issue of the fading magic.”
Mild irony infiltrated his tone, for his father appointed him many posts to oversee, which kept him busy from daylight to dusk. What did his father expect? Relian didn’t mind the responsibilities, and normally, sleep would only be a small issue, even with the long hours he kept. Though he didn’t need a lot of rest, he still needed some. His forays into the dream world kept him from getting the proper amount. This all affected his mood negatively. While he could hide this from most, his father, damn him, would sense something amiss.
His father’s blonde eyebrows snapped together, frustration turning his eyes black. Talion waited for him to offer up more information. Relian snorted to himself. Well, his father could wait forever. “With your leave, my lord.”
Relian slightly bowed his head in deference and walked away before his father could dismiss him. The rude gesture wouldn’t be lost on the king. No, his father was quite astute and would watch him unrelentingly now. But by the Mystics, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
***
Cal dropped down on her bed. Somehow, she’d made it back to her humble disco-era room, and for once she didn’t mind its decor. She needed to sleep. It didn’t matter how freaky her dreams got, because she couldn’t function anymore. Her manager at work had let her off early because she “looked frazzled.”
Just enough light trickled in from the hallway for the mirror across the room to confirm that. Hair mussed up, dark circles under her eyes. Yeah, like death heated up in hell one too many times. She winced. Frankenstein had nothing on her. Even her friends said so. Well, not the last part about looking like Frankentein, but the hell part, yes.
Instead of heading straight home as she should’ve, she’d caught up to some movie-going friends. She hated the prospect of telling them the truth, so she didn’t. Had the manager needed her? No, of course not. Customers had been sparse. If her friends bought that story, she couldn’t tell, but they didn’t inquire further. Really, she probably hadn’t fooled anyone, given the way she trailed behind the small group like a zombie scenting flesh.
She crossed her arms over her chest. To make matters worse, she declined the invitation to go bowling after the movies. Her friends agreed with her decision, the nerve of them. They never discouraged a good time.
Pulling down her comforter haphazardly, she snuggled into her waiting blankets and watched the ceiling fan whirl over her head. Did any of her friends think she was on drugs? A bark of humorless laughter erupted at that thought. No, she was too goody-two-shoes for that. They probably believed she lost what little sanity she’d clung to in the last few months. And they didn’t even know of her past. Thank god. Well, except Maggie, and she only knew a little bit of it.
Now that she was in bed, the normally lumpy mattress felt so good, she couldn’t move. Her sneaker-clad feet hung over the bottom edge of the bed. She didn’t want to get the bed dirty, so she would jump into the shower and fresh clothes later.
Her eyes fluttered closed. No one would see her right now, anyway. Maggie was out, so she had the place to herself. The recent happenings in her life were still secret, and for the moment, she’d given up trying to find an answer. Dead ends were all she hit. The Mists of Avalon bookstore was mysteriously closed every time she walked past. Even if it were open, would she have the heart to go inside? The woman’s words, especially her parting ones, still rang in her ears.
As she started to fall sleep, she let the silence drift over her, glad she was finally alone.
Chapter 4
Relian was finally alone.
After a full day of meetings and military trainings, he could relax even if he didn’t sleep. He sat down on his bed, swiftly undoing the warrior braids at his temples. Frowning down at his dusty jerkin and leggings, he gave them a few swipes.
He’d helped train some of the new recruits, a task which required much patience. Something he had little of today, it seemed. A grimace came to his face. Even though elves were swift of foot and agile, the trainees tried hard to dispel that notion. One was so clumsy and inept that he accidentally released his arrow too soon. Unfortunately, Relian was in the direct line of fire. Only quick reflexes saved him from an arrow to his person. As it was, he had a few bruises from flinging himself to the ground. He highly doubted that young elf would ever be something more than a sentry.
Lying back on his bed, he meant to stretch and rest his weary body for a moment. But his lids felt weighted. Would the dreams return this night, or would he finally get a night of sleep? Closing his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t find out until he slept and woke.
Awareness soon intruded on Relian, along with the seeping realization all was not normal. His eyes shot open, taking in what his senses had been telling him. Dismay made his heart pound uncomfortably in his chest as he propelled himself to his feet, looking for an enemy that wasn’t there. The full magnitude of the situation hit him then.
He blinked, hoping to clear his vision. It couldn’t be! But it was. The veil. This place looked just like it, but never had he—or anyone else he knew of—ever woken up in the midst of it. In all his long years, he’d never heard of anything so unnatural.
Why woul
d he wake up here? Could it have something to do with her? Maybe this...was a dream. They had been strange of late, but this felt very tangible to him. He couldn’t deny the ethereal quality here that far exceeded any found in elvin homes. But that dream-like quality didn’t detract from the conviction he was here in the flesh.
Yes, this was real, at least to a degree. Once he settled on this conclusion, his befuddlement somewhat abated. The magic of the veil wouldn’t give him any answers until it deemed the time right and then only what it chose to, nothing more. He shouldn’t worry unduly about something he couldn’t control. The veil had never hurt his kind before and, in fact, had sought to protect them. Why would it begin now?
His curiosity overtook him, and he decided to explore his temporary room. To his knowledge, elves had merely walked through the veil, not lingered in it. The mist encompassed far more area than he expected. He couldn’t see where it began or ended, given that the mist became quite thick in some places.
As he wandered around in the mist, he made out a figure curled upon the floor to the right of him. Reaching for a sword that wasn’t there, he cautiously crept toward the lump. He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of wavy auburn hair.
It was her hair. Walking closer, he saw tresses that cascaded down to slim shoulders, which rose and fell in a steady rhythm. She was sleeping. He moved around the body, wanting to view her face to determine if she resembled the young girl with auburn hair he’d seen years ago.
His indrawn breath broke the silence. Desire and horror mingled in his stomach as his fears proved true. He could see the child’s features in the young human’s visage, from the bow-shaped lips to the oval shape of her face. She was shapely, though no more than the average elvin woman, and her height roughly equivalent to some of the shorter females.
His gaze flickered over her strange attire. She wore a shirt of some strange pink material. It looked soft and stretchy, and his fingers itched to touch it. Her trousers were tan and somewhat baggy on her. Not knowing whether to laugh or cringe, he saw on her feet the oddest article of clothing yet. The shoes had colorful stripes drawn on the cotton-like fabric. Overall, they were exceedingly peculiar.
As he studied her, emotions he couldn’t accurately describe filled his chest. He wanted to hug her, kiss her. He wanted to push her away as an abomination that shouldn’t exist in his world. Shock, relief, fear, anger, and happiness were all jumbled into those elusive sensations. Relian stopped short, taken aback by that last emotion.
Happiness? He, being neither blind nor stupid, could reason through all the others, even the relief. His fate somehow entwined with hers. To what degree and for how long, he didn’t know. His dreams definitely hinted, no, screamed of an intimate relationship. It didn’t mean he had to like it, though. He frowned. No, he didn’t like it at all. She drew him as a moth to a shining beacon.
But she was a human. A sneer curled his lip. How could he desire one of those? They were crass, bold, and loud. Unrefined, or so the tales went.
Just then, the slight movement of her hand and a small sigh from her lips caught his attention. He stilled for a moment before melting back into the fog and waited. Soon they would meet.
***
Cal groggily grabbed for a blanket that wasn’t there. Her eyes shot open. She wished she hadn’t bothered, because what she saw didn’t reassure her in the least.
As she slowly rose to her feet, her legs trembled under her. A thick mist or fog surrounded her, and it...twinkled.
She studied the mist with false calm and decided the effect was like that of flickering fireflies. The oddly beautiful but disturbing fog stretched out in all directions as far as she could see. There were no walls, floor, or ceiling, at least that she could find. As she didn’t plunge through the bottom, though, the mist had to be quite solid.
As she swung her hand into a particularly dense patch, her fingers cut right through it. She scowled at the offending mist. Dare she say it? The mist felt and acted like...well...normal fog, except for where it served as a floor. Could this be the same one she’d seen throughout the years?
Pinching her cheek, she winced. Nope, she was awake, though she couldn’t be too sure of anything else. Cal dropped her hand back to her side, while she looked around. Her brain felt fuzzy. Where was she? There had to be a door out of here. She couldn’t miss her theory class, because she really needed a good grade.
The disjointed thoughts rushed through her head, almost startling her out of her stupor. She stifled a hysterical giggle. None of this was very logical, but it was all she could manage.
All too soon, reality crashed down, hard. Panic followed behind like a close friend. If there had been walls, they would’ve been closing in on her, crushing and suffocating her. Oh, god. Oh, god.
“My lady, who are you, and what are we doing here?”An elegant sounding voice icily cut into Cal’s thoughts, disrupting her comforting mantra and returning her to the mist.
The voice, it was...it sounded....
She froze before she jerked around. In spite of the mist, she instantly recognized that noble face and bearing. That hair, there was no mistaking it.
Arctic air infiltrated her veins, and she felt her features go slack.
Thinking to clear her eyes, she rubbed them. The reason for all her therapy still stood in front of her, the very same one from her dreams, from the glen. Her throat strangled any words that tried to form. But he’d demanded an answer from her, along with her name. Even though old tales concerning the power of names blared in her head, she couldn’t resist his pull.
“I...Cal Warner.” She hesitated and floundered for something else to add until she decided he could offer up the same information. After all, if his knowing her name put her at a disadvantage, she would do her best to level the playing field. “And you, your name, I mean?”
“I am Relian, of the Erian Elves.”
That was undeniably the voice from her dreams. There’d always been a definite accent to the voice, but she’d never the wherewithal to place its origin.
“Elves?” She laughed nervously, placing a startled hand over her heart. Though she suspected this, to actually hear it….
“Yes.” His eyes bored into her. “I am the Erian prince.” His smooth tenor voice stated the title with only the barest hint of emotion and pride.
“Prince?” Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and light-headedness swept over her. Closing her eyes briefly, she prayed she would wake from this fucked-up fairytale. Not only an elf but also a prince. Just her luck. Speaking wouldn’t be wise. What if she said the wrong thing and got her head lopped off? She forced her eyes open, only to wish she hadn’t.
He had a quality about him that made her leery. Even given the intimacy of her dreams, she couldn’t say if he were a danger or not. Best not to test the theory. Diplomacy. Yes, diplomacy was the key.
Tamping down on the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, she let her gaze settle around the general area of his face. That was the first step, looking him in the eye. But she soon forgot this goal after she engrossed herself in her task. His eyes, slightly almond-shaped and set above high cheekbones, were the same gray she remembered in her dreams. She didn’t know if his lightly tanned skin was natural or if he had a suntan. His black hair flowed free over his shoulders, reaching to his waist. He was handsome but in an otherworldly way that she couldn’t accurately describe.
Her gaze slid over his clothing. A brown leather tunic, along with a tan under tunic worn beneath, stretched over wide shoulders and hugged a muscular chest. Leggings of a darker brown hue rounded out his apparel and encased long, lean legs. He wore vambraces on his arms, and boots of soft leather that looked remarkably clean. An inner-eye roll met that thought. The cleanliness of his attire was not important at a time like this, damn it.
Though she just chided herself, she took another peek at his boots and vambraces. Both were elaborately tooled in silver with impossibly flowing patterns etched on them, reminding h
er of Celtic designs. Fancy clothes for a warrior, but on an elvin warrior, they seemed appropriate.
A warrior and prince…a warrior elf-prince? The words sounded cliché, like some shiny, remade fairytale. She almost giggled at the absurdness of the situation until another thought intruded. “We understand each other. You shouldn’t even exist.”
“I could say the same thing about you.” His face didn’t crack a smile, and he appeared as animated as a stalactite. “I believe we met ten years ago. The mist has seen fit to fix our language barrier. Hence, we understand each other.”
She didn’t know how to answer, so just nodded. What could she say? Either a magical mist had brought them here, or her hallucination looked very real. She would pick the former belief for right now. Not that this option was the better of the two, but she never truly believed herself delusional. This just confirmed it.
He must’ve seen her stupefaction because he softened his austere manner, and his eyes lost their steely look. “Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. I realize you don’t know why we were brought here.”
In an effort to speak calmly, she forced good grace to the forefront. “I take this isn’t a normal situation for you, either?”
“No.” To her discomfort, his eyes almost seemed to be caressing her skin. Her body hummed with the tension of standing under his gaze as the minutes crept by. Then his hand moved, reaching toward her cheek.
She moved a step back, her heart fluttering. When he prowled another step closer, she stumbled back a little bit farther. Another step closer, another step back. This dance continued with only the accompaniment of her pulsing blood. Then she tripped.
Closing her eyes, she prepared for a jarring fall. Arms around her waist caught her. Arms? She trembled and her eyes shot open. He loomed over her and was holding her quite closely. Too closely. Every muscle of his lower body pressed against her, but most alarming was the bulge that pushed against her hip. Heat flooded her core, snapping her mind awake.