by Kumar, Lisa
The male looked like an elf, yet not, because of his distorted features. She couldn’t quite describe the manner of their distortion, other than to say the effect was feral. It was as if an image of something nightmarish had superimposed itself over the pristine framework of an elf’s visage. The creature’s long hair appeared as if someone had taken a blunted knife to it, and was matted with a substance she didn’t want to guess at. Whatever remained of his clothes hung in tattered, filthy shreds about his skeletal form. She wanted to look away. Oh, how she desired to. But the unnatural sight captivated her by the very wrongness it portrayed.
Out of the crowd, Relian and the king emerged, along with Kenhel. People parted to make way. Kenhel addressed the soldiers guarding the creature. Grim in countenance, the soldier in front replied in a rapid stream of words Cal couldn’t follow. After he finished, gasps and a sobbing from somewhere in the crowd ensued.
The king laid a comforting hand on the soldier’s shoulder before turning away. His sonorous voice rang out in the silence, only the weeping remaining. A family of elves came forward, an adult male and female with two adolescents. The adults gestured back to the throng, seeming to want the teenagers to stay back, but the boy and girl wouldn’t be deterred. They followed their parents – at least she assumed they were—but did stay safely behind them.
The creature quieted as the four neared and cocked his head to the side. The older female reached out a tentative hand, tears in her eyes. Whatever lucidness had lurked in the creature’s eyes disappeared. He lunged. Only the restraining hands of the warriors stopped him from reaching his goal. The elvin woman fell back against her husband, sobs racking her body. It was the same weeping Cal had heard earlier.
Talion and Relian herded the family away from the scene by taking a gentle hold to arms and shoulders. The creature fell silent again, watching as they walked away.
In a flurry of movement, he lunged, managing to break free of those restraining him. He mowed into the elf standing in front of him. Sickness coiled in her stomach. The strength needed to overcome four trained elves had to be immense. The creature headed toward Relian and the family. Impossibly fast, he knocked aside any elf in his way, only focused on reaching his destination.
Warriors raised bows even as Kenhel, Relian, and the king unsheathed swords. She cringed. As she turned to Maggie, she saw the same horror on her face. Maggie’s chest heaved as if she could throw up at any time, not that Cal fared any better.
A chill sweat broke out on her forehead. They were from a world where violence was on TV and in newspapers but never, ever in front of them. She and Maggie grabbed onto each other as though they were anchors of stability.
Arrows riddled the body of the creature. His body jerked convulsively before the first sword could fall. He stumbled and fell, eyes wide and mouth open, revealing sharp teeth where there should’ve been normal ones.
Her eyes froze on the family. They stood paralyzed, shock and horror painted on their faces. The king’s sharp voice called out some words with a few names interspersed. Three healers, identified as so by their robes, rushed forward to take possession of the family.
All assembled remained still and didn’t move until the king again spoke. Whatever he said, while voiced gently, certainly got the elves of his palace moving.
Cal tugged on Maggie’s arm. “I think we should go.”
Maggie nodded, still pale. “That would be for the best.”
Both of them would be shaken-up for some time. The thought they were privy to events best kept amongst those native to Eria left her feeling like an interloper. She shivered in the warm air.
As they turned to go, a light brush to her shoulder caused Cal to jump and whirl around. It was Relian. His eyes roamed over her in concern before turning the same look toward Maggie. Cal’s chest tightened painfully. Even at a time like this, he made the effort to come over and comfort them. It was something she’d not expected, but why was she surprised? Relian and the king seemed only to desire their comfort.
Talion stepped up beside Relian and favored them with a kind smile. She even swore his eyes lingered on Maggie’s white face. At least he didn’t try to goad Maggie with a look, touch, or word she didn’t understand. But then, it wouldn’t have been the proper time for it, and the king always observed such societal conventions, wicked humor or not.
She focused her attention back on Relian. The chain mail shirt he wore wasn’t so pristine anymore. It was dirtied with earth and something that looked suspiciously like blood. Her gaze wandered to his hair, held back in a severe braid. At the temple, sweat dampened the black strands, and a few tendrils were working themselves loose from the braid.
At some point, he’d taken up her hand. When had he done that? His palm burned against hers. She glanced down at their entwined fingers. His hand was clean. This seemed strange when his clothes and other parts of his person didn’t look to be so. A sturdy-looking leather glove covered his other hand. What did people call them? Gauntlets. That was it, though it was a silly thing to think about right now.
She lifted her gaze to his face. He still regarded her intently. Why did he look at her like that? How could these moments stretch on, yet end way too soon?
Their trance ended when the king addressed a figure behind him Cal hadn’t noticed until now. Arrein stepped around the king as he moved aside for her. Ah, she was to be their watcher for a while.
Maggie muttered under her breath, “Yay, a watchdog.”
Relian and his father both shot a look at Maggie, quirking an eyebrow in an almost identical fashion. This would’ve been amusing at another time, and the thought that intruded didn’t help. Just how much English did they understand? The thought that certain elves might have a greater grasp of English then they’d imagined was an unsettling thought. And there was no way to find out. So until they knew the truth of it, whether it was an act or not, they’d have to be careful.
As Relian released her hand, he bent down and whispered, “Holen re, Cal.” Until later, Cal. Even with her limited knowledge, she understood the simple farewell and fought to keep a dazed expression off her face at his closeness. He disconcerted her when she least expected it, threading through her personal bubble of space like an unerring needle finding its way toward a balloon. And just like a balloon, the air in her lungs would desert her when she most needed their aid in maintaining a calm façade.
Another fact pounded on her consciousness. He’d used her first name, a rare occurrence when others were around. Admittedly, he’d whispered it, so even those close by may not have heard. Still, his behavior was perplexing. The guys she dated had never been so intense and enticing, every word and caress a seduction to her senses. She squirmed, unsettled by the way her body responded. And her mind. When it came to him, it followed right along with her traitorous flesh.
After Talion made his goodbyes to them, she and Maggie found themselves trailing after Arrein.
Cal’s mind whirled in a hodge-podge cloud of jumbled thoughts that bounced off each other until she couldn’t untangle one from the other. The lovely architecture with its soaring star vaults hardly penetrated her consciousness, though it had often enraptured her before.
They stood outside her door before she was even aware Arrein had stopped walking. Smiling genially, the maid pushed it open and ushered her and Maggie into the room. Once she seated them under her mothering gaze, she lit a small fire in the hearth situated on the wall between her and Maggie’s adjoining rooms. Making motions with her hands, Arrein indicated she would bring a light snack to them. It was still hard for Cal to allow anyone to care for her, especially a female whose age appeared no older than either hers or Maggie’s. Though she’d never inquired about her age, Arrein was probably anything but young.
As soon as the door closed, Cal tilted her head to look at Maggie. “So what did you make of all that?”
Maggie whistled, though it didn’t have the spryness it usually had. “I don’t know, but some heavy you-know-
what is going on down here. That creature-beast-elf thing was freaky.”
“And sad.”
She frowned. “Yes. Do you think those people were his family?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Yeah, me too.” Maggie sighed. “So it—the creature – must’ve been an elf at one time. Then something happened.”
Cal drummed her fingers on the table. “I think that’s hitting on the question of the day. Something definitely happened to effect that change but what?”
“Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
Her fingers stilled. “I think that’s a given.”
“But that’s all we have, isn’t it? That it’s not normal, not natural in a decidedly bad way.”
Cal dropped her head back against the cushioned chair and gazed at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. We know nothing, and it’s frustrating.”
“And dangerous, don’t forget dangerous.”
Cal lifted her head. “Dangerous?”
“There’s something beyond those gates.” Maggie gestured down toward the town. “Something we don’t know about that’s dangerous, and this knowledge, in and of itself, is hazardous. Do you think humans can become like that elf-thing?”
“Good question. I don’t know, but it’s not like they let us roam around the countryside. Something perilous is out there, but I think we’re relatively safe here.”
“As long as we remain here. You did venture beyond the gates yourself today, though you did have a big, strong elf with you.” Maggie tossed her a small smirk.
“Yes, Relian was with me.” The breeze that came through the balcony doors drew Cal’s attention to the setting sun. Its last blaze painted the garden below in hues of gold.
After a while, Maggie’s scrutiny made Cal twitch. Time for the inquisition. Without moving, she said, “What?”
“What happened out there?”
“As I told you, we went to a lovely waterfall. I took in the landscape as Relian led my horse.”
Maggie gave her an arch look. “It’s a good thing Relian did, given your extreme paranoia of all things equine.”
Cal shot Maggie a glare. “It still wasn’t a comfortable ride for me.”
“Why? Because of Relian or the horse?”
“The hor— Okay, because of both.”
Maggie propped her chin up on her hands and leaned over the table. “He still unsettles you, doesn’t he?”
Cal regarded her with an annoyed gaze. “Well, wouldn’t he you? He’s not human, not anything like the guys we’re used to.”
“He takes you out of your comfort zone. I can’t say how I would react, because his attention has and will never be focused on me.”
“No, maybe not him. But another unnamed elf really gets under your skin.”
Maggie glowered. “Yes, like a fungus, an annoying, arrogant, nit-picking one. My case is totally different than yours. We can’t be around each other without tearing the other apart verbally. You and Relian…well, you’re a different matter entirely.”
She cursed inwardly. Her friend could always hook and reel her in. Maggie would tell it how she saw it, with little to no diplomacy. Did she want that bluntness right now? But Maggie would give it to her anyway. “How so?” She leaned forward, worrying her hands.
Maggie laughed, throwing her a disbelieving look. “You honestly haven’t figured it out yet? Because you’re falling for him and he for you. How can you not see that you’re crazy about him?”
Cal reared back in her seat as if she’d been hit. “Who said anything about love? I can’t love him.” She just hoped she hadn’t been sucker punched by the truth.
“I hate to break this to you, Cal, but you’re already halfway there. And why can’t you love him?” Maggie furrowed her brow, as if she couldn’t figure out all the impossible reasons.
“He’s not human, for one. He’s immortal or close to it, for another. I’m going to die soon in comparison. He’s a prince, for a third—a prince in a land not of our world. Should I keep on going? Why on Earth would you think we’re falling for each other?”
“What? You won’t love him because he’s not human? Isn’t he close enough? Think of it as a different ethnicity. You’ve never had any problem there. For the immortal prince part, you’re on your own. We don’t know much about their “immortality,” and I’m not even going to touch the prince part. As for you both being in love, a look between you two screams it plain and clear to me. You light up when he’s around and vice versa for him.” Maggie shuddered. “It’s kind of cute but a little disturbing to see you together. You two get so focused on each other, I think the sky could fall around your toes, and you wouldn’t notice.”
Maggie paused but hurried on when Cal opened her mouth. “Let’s also not forget you’ve got this whole binding thing going on, too. Not that I’m trying to convince you either way, but you have to consider all the facts, not hide some of them away.”
Cal shook her head, unable to form a coherent word. None of this was true. How could it be? How could other people be aware of their so-called feelings before they were? She did care for him…but love?
She’d been there for a few weeks. It was way too soon. And just because “he was close enough” didn’t mitigate the problems she’d laid out. Would she want to stay when they received the chance to leave? Would she even be able to leave? Nobody had made exact promises on that course, only vague allusions. Nothing promised, nothing lost—at least for the elves.
Arrein came into the chamber carrying a tray laden with fruit, cheese, and water. Their faltering conversation halted.
Chapter 21
Relian took in the smaller form at his side. Cal stood close—so close he could brush his side against hers if he desired. And, oh, how he desired! He fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. Those stubborn appendages seemed to take on a life of their own if he didn’t.
She’d touched him with increasing frequency since that day by the waterfall, and he’d been happy to return the favor. The fateful events of a week ago broke some reserve in her, anchoring her to his side more fully than anything else ever could have. But they never progressed past innocent caresses on the arm or cheek. He feared pushing her, so he’d go at her pace—for now.
It was strange. Time had never been much of a concern to him before. Why would it? His kind measured the passing of time by years, centuries, and even millennia. Minutes and seconds had rarely seemed important until now. Now snatched moments were all he caught with her. And he wanted to pass each and every one of them caressing her skin. The very tension of it hummed through his veins.
These times with her were both his pleasure and his torment. He gritted his teeth. The need to touch her grated like a wound, yet so did her absence. He could count the days she’d been in his world.
Twenty-one days.
Three weeks.
Was that all? Just three weeks of his life? He took a calming breath and resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair. If he did, he’d probably tear it out. When had he started to count his days as if they were precious things to him, to be numbered and neatly ordered?
This was the mortal way of tracking time, but it had never been his way, until now. But it was never meant for an immortal mind to be confounded by the reality of finite time, at least as it stood by mortal concept. To live so fettered by time’s bonds confused his kind. Yet humanity always seemed determined to ignore its existence. He shook his head.
How could they do so with such temerity? He’d forgotten this aspect of humanity, as he’d been a young adolescent when the separation occurred. Indeed, he’d probably been too young to notice. Young elves were much akin to their human cousins in terms of growth, only it took them centuries to obtain full adulthood and mortals a score of years.
Twenty-one days she’d been here. And how did Cal view these days? Even from her perspective, that couldn’t be long. Was acceptance coming to her? Her capitulat
ion to his presence signaled she was, as did her proximity. But he still desired more from her. He wanted to be with her; he wanted to be in her. As many times before, he slammed the steel door shut on his mind and willed his nether regions to behave. He’d no right to want what she wasn’t yet willing to give.
But then again, how did he know what she wanted? Did she not stand close to him, trusting him?
He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. She halted but didn’t move away—a reassuring sign that caused desire to hum through him. Sentries and other prying eyes could happen upon them, but he didn’t care.
His gaze devoured her. Standing before him was the woman he’d dreamed of for years, even before he knew who or what she was, even before he’d met her when she was but a girl. Only in the last few months before her arrival had his dreams given any hint of her outward exterior.
To learn her race had come as quite a blow. He’d never considered the possibility of a female who wasn’t of his kind. Why would he?
But now, he realized, she hadn’t been an elf or a human, she simply had been. No more and no less. Just herself, no race. It was an oversimplification but one that resounded true to the depths of his soul.
Now that he knew her, he could see it had been her all along. There could be no denial in that. It had and could never be another.
Her fidgeting alerted him that he’d stared at her for too long. Taking her hands in his, he offered her what comfort he could. The touch of her hands scorched his palms and fingers. The sensation worked its way up his arms in a relentless path. He bit back a groan at the pleasurable pain.
The bond burned through him, waiting to consume all until he wrestled back control. There would come a time when he wouldn’t be able to exert dominance, and he would crumble under it effects. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
The thought he was already too far-gone to recover if she left him wiggled around his brain like the most tenacious of worms. He’d swear the bond between them was almost completed if he didn’t know otherwise. For the pull to be so strong after such a short time was rare. Something had to be magnifying the effects. The veil had already interceded, interfered. Why not again? But what it did was no mere thing. It played a perilous game that could destroy two people, two worlds, if not all dealt out satisfactorily.