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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 undertunic 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 her 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.”