Two of the warriors ran to him, but the third ran to Irielle and hauled her up over his shoulder. He waved a hand at Simban, freeing him from the paralysis and gesturing for him to follow. The elf turned and waved his hand at the back of the chamber and a doorway appeared out of nothing. He stepped through, and Simban followed without question. He went where Irielle went.

  “Hey!” One of the warriors called out from behind them.

  But the warrior with him turned and sealed the magic doorway before the other warrior could get to them.

  “Hurry,” the elf said. “We have little time.”

  He sprinted down the tunnel after the elf, and the magic doorway closed immediately behind him, plunging them into darkness. He hit the side of his head, finally forcing his oculars to switch off night vision just as they were emerging into the light again.

  He cursed, listening to the elf get farther away.

  “Wait.”

  The elf ran back a few paces. “What is it?”

  “Can’t see.” He finally got his ocular to switch back.

  They were in a small foyer.

  He nodded at the elf, who turned and began to rapidly ascend a tall circular staircase that wrapped around a tree trunk in the middle of the space. “I’m Evindal,” he said. “Lucky your mind repelled that scumbag Elsifan. I didn’t know how I was going to free you from all of them.”

  “Thank you,” Simban replied. He kept listening behind him, expecting the magic doorway to open and the elves from the prison to chase them. But it didn’t, and the only sounds were their footsteps on the wooden planks. The top of the steps brought them to a spacious room, where the branches and leaves of the great tree formed a great canopy serving as its roof.

  The warrior laid Irielle out on a bed, and Simban took her hand.

  He hoped whoever lived here was a healer.

  “I am, indeed.”

  He turned to find an elf coming toward him. He was the most unusual elf Simban had ever seen, even counting King Elsifan and his wicked brood. He seemed extremely old; although, his eyes glowed a stronger clear gold than any he’d ever seen. While most of the older elves he’d met had only crow’s-feet around their eyes and the edges of their mouths to indicate their age, his was lined in a way that could only be from thousands of years. White hair sprouted from his head, as wild as the other elves, its length seemingly the only thing that weighed it down. He was dressed in a head-hugging cap, a woven shirt, and pants. His bare feet were silent on the wooden planks of the floor.

  He gestured to a fountain in the center of the wall beside him. “But you are blocking my water.”

  Simban turned to him in amazement. “How are you all talking inside my head? And how do you hear my thoughts?” He paused. “Can you really heal Irielle?”

  The elder’s eyebrows lifted. “I wouldn’t be much of an elder if I couldn’t do magic, would I?”

  The elder nudged him out of the way and laid a hand on Irielle’s forehead. His forehead creased. “This is the new illness attacking those who venture outside the dome. I cannot heal this, but I can make her temporarily stronger.”

  After several moments, she gasped and awoke.

  Relief coursed through him, and when she tried to rise, he helped her sit up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Irielle

  “W

  ho are you?”

  “I am Geeeroo, one of the elders, as well as a healer.”

  Irielle searched the room, looking for the speaker. She was still slightly dizzy, and must have hit her head harder than she thought because the first voice in her head sounded like an elder, but his lips weren’t moving.

  And the other voice sounded like Simban’s. But it couldn’t be, because the words were fluent. Perfect.

  The elder gave a great sigh. “I am able to use the magic that is inherent in all living things to communicate with them. It is how I communicate with animals and plants. But how are you, child? Why were you unconscious?”

  “I have an illness, the Red Death. I suffer blackouts when stressed—and Elsifan interrogating me was stressful,” she admitted. “But it’s you who is allowing Simban to speak?” Irielle couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice.

  “Yes, young one. If you practice for a few thousand years, you can do it, too.”

  “Really?” Did that mean she could communicate with Simban like this all the time?

  “Really. It’s in your blood.” His eyes turned back to Simban. “I might be able to give you our language.”

  He reached for Simban’s forehead, and Simban took a step back.

  The elder laughed. “I’m not going to hurt you. And my magic is a lot stronger than Elsifan’s. In fact . . .”

  “Now you should be able to understand me,” the elder finished aloud.

  Simban shook his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable.” He paused. “Can you heal me?”

  The elder closed his eyes for a moment, and Simban could feel his magic searching. “That would take more magic than even I have. And perhaps . . . something else . . .” For several moments, he was lost in thought. Then his eyes refocused on them. “I’m sorry, but now is not the time to speak of such things. We must be quick. Why are you here?”

  “Don’t you know?” Simban asked.

  His thin lips tightened. “Don’t be impudent, mountain man. I have magic, but I’m not a mind reader.”

  “Simban knows of a cure for the Red Death—the sickness that comes from the red poison in the sky,” Irielle answered respectfully. “We came to see if your people need it.”

  The elder’s eyes turned to Simban. “What is the cure?”

  As his jaw worked, Irielle realized it would take him too long to explain in words. “Use your mind,” she reminded him.

  His eyes widened, and then his voice came, low and clear, a deep, perfect bass in the elven language. “The cure comes from the white flowers on the Ardak homeworld of Baihu, and the poison comes from the red flowers.”

  “The Ardak homeworld? Baihu? How do you know this?”

  “Did you see the ships descend from the sky? Did you know there was a war?”

  “Yes. And I haven’t heard of Baihu in a long, long time.” The elder’s face grew serious. “We saw them, but Elsifan and his group are in charge at the moment, and they made the decision to remain in hiding. We don’t get much information from the outside here. What happened?”

  “About a year ago, we were invaded by the Ardaks, giant tiger-like beasts. They enslaved my people with their technology and turned some of us into cyborgs. Eventually, we worked with the elves from Renwyn and defeated General Slash and his men in battle, but then the Ardak king sent the Red Death to kill us.

  “I met Aria, a special cyborg who knew about the cure for the Red Death and had one of their spaceships. We traveled to Baihu . . .”

  “You traveled in space?” The elder’s brows rose.

  “Yes, but we were captured by Ardaks on the way there. Aria freed us from captivity, as well as the other prisoners, and one of them gave us a sample of the cure as well as instructions on how to reproduce it.”

  “Do you have those instructions?”

  Simban nodded. “We do, and my brethren built a device to make more of the cure. It is at the elven palace in Renwyn.”

  “Renwyn!” The elder harrumphed aloud, turning to poke at his fire. “It figures those young upstarts would end up proving us wrong by saving our starry asses.”

  Irielle had been listening to the conversation silently, her sense of awe at Simban’s achievements growing. She’d found him attractive before, but now she realized there was much more to him than she could have imagined. He’d fought the Ardaks, gone into space, battled them.

  “Do you have warriors you can spare to go with us?” Simban asked. “We might have an Ardak chasing us. It will be sick with their equivalent of the Red Death, but it will still be a powerful enemy.”

  The elder locked gazes with the warrior who had freed them. “Evindal, can you get some others? It will be risky, and you may not be welcome back.”

  Evindal nodded without hesitation before sprinting for the stairs.

  Elder Geeeroo turned back to them. “He will bring others. They will meet you at the cave. Now, Elsifan will be marshaling his troops, looking for you. I need to get you to the edge of the shield before then. I’ll tell you the rest when you return with the cure.”

  Irielle turned to him. “Elsifan said something about a Cavern of Knowledge and a Crystal Cave. What was he talking about?”

  The elder’s eyes landed on them, blazing with emotion. “He’s an idiot. He shouldn’t even be speaking of those things. They are lost to all of us.”

  “What Crystal Cave is he talking about? Did you know the Ardaks are searching for crystals to power their technology?”

  The elder shook his head. “I know about the foretelling, but I don’t know anything about these Ardaks . . .”

  He stopped because the air in the middle of the tree hut shimmered.

  “Nu’uta!” the elder said under his breath. “I can’t open the doorway to the tunnel now or he will know where I sent you. We’ll have to defeat him so he won’t chase you.”

  A hole opened in the center of the room, and to Simban, it looked like a wormhole. King Elsifan stepped out, his eyes burning hot with anger. Several warriors followed after him, obviously ready for battle.

  “Geeeroo,” Elsifan spat angrily. “I should have known it was you helping these traitors.”

  “Elsifan,” Elder Geeeroo replied, holding up his hands. “There are no traitors anymore. That fight was over long before these younglings were born. They know nothing of the war you perpetuate in your mind.”

  “They are just as guilty as their parents,” Elsifan retorted, albeit less angrily.

  “Maybe they aren’t,” Geeeroo countered. “Have you ever thought they might want to join us?”

  Elsifan raised his chin. “Their blood is tainted now. We couldn’t allow them to join us, even if they wanted to.”

  “Since when have you become the final say on all matters of our people?”

  “Since no one else wants to stand up and do what’s right. Crawl back into your cave, Geeeroo. Your time is finished.” His fingers were flaming slightly, and to her disbelief, fire shot from his eyes in massive flares, others coming from his fingers.

  Irielle gasped from the awesome display of magic.

  Elder Geeeroo held out his hands and a stream of water came from a fountain behind him, forming a shield of water that caught the flames and dissolved them instantly.

  One of his warriors threw a fireball at Simban, and Geeeroo threw up his hand in a long arc, a massive spray of water snuffing out the fire, and then threw another blast at the warrior back against the wall. “You will not destroy my house!” he bellowed, finally growing angry. His voice seemed to grow until it thundered. “And you won’t defeat me in it, either, Elsifan. You know that very well.”

  “That is what you get when you harbor fugitives,” Elsifan spat back, his eyes still blazing. “I’ll bring the entire army and tear this place down!”

  “They came to bring us a cure from the Red Death.” Geeeroo’s voice still thundered, but this time with a hint of impatience. His lips pursed. “What do you think the others will say about you turning them away?”

  “The Red Death is their fault in the first place. If they hadn’t run away, we would still have access to the Crystal Cave. We wouldn’t need a cure!”

  “That isn’t the whole truth, and you know it.” Geeeroo raised his hands. “Go! Round up the council. Tell them your side. How popular do you think you’ll be when your people start to die? We’ll see what they think when they have to choose between their foolish pride and the cure.”

  Elsifan’s face contorted with helpless rage, and the fire that smoldered in his eyes danced like angry flames. “I’ll accede to your point, old man. We’ll discuss this again when they bring back the cure.” He sniffed. “If they bring back the cure. But mark my words, this isn’t over yet.”

  Elsifan clapped his hands together and disappeared, leaving his warriors behind.

  “The front door is that way, boys,” Geeeroo said, pointing down the stairs.

  When they were gone, he turned back to them. “I don’t trust Elsifan to keep his word. Even now, he’s rounding up those sympathetic to his cause. Once I open this doorway, you run. Run as fast as you can until you reach the end of the tunnel, and don’t look back. It opens into a small cave with markings on the walls. Hide there and wait for the others. And don’t return without the cure.”

  The elder waved his hands and a tunnel opened that led out the back of his hut, and the warrior ran through it. “Be careful. I’ve healed her as much as I can, but she’s still ill. Protect her, mountain man.”

  Simban nodded and then swooped down and threw Irielle over his shoulder, and she gasped at the unexpected action.

  “Wait!” she cried. “We can’t leave yet!” Irielle was still trying to process everything that was happening.

  She was starting to feel like there was something else going on between these elves and the elves of Renwyn that she couldn’t have imagined. She needed to know why the elves in the village thought they were traitors and what exactly the Crystal Cave and the Cavern of Knowledge were.

  “We should go back!” she yelled at Simban as he ran, taking her away from the answers.

  “What?” he said incredulously. “No.”

  She struggled, and his grip tightened. “There’s something else going on. These elves have the answers.”

  “No shit,” he grunted, still running. “But elves . . . angry.”

  “Argh!” Irielle shouted angrily, realizing she wasn’t going to win. She stopped fighting him, letting herself fall limp against his shoulder.

  Simban was right, they were crazy. And if she didn’t know better, she would say they were a little . . . dark. They used a magic she didn’t have any experience with. As far as she knew, no one in Renwyn knew how to do it. Most of the time, they had difficulties mastering their own type of magic. Even at over two hundred years old, she was still learning, still becoming stronger.

  The tunnel they were in was tall and wide. She was surprised it would be big enough for a cyborg, never mind one with her over his shoulder. Did the elves build all these tunnels? Why?

  Simban ran until he was breathing heavily and Irielle was groaning every time he accidentally jostled her.

  Without warning, the tunnel opened wider, but the sunlight didn’t appear, and he realized they were in a cave. She hoped this was the cave Geeeroo had mentioned because she needed a rest.

  Simban stopped running and set Irielle on her feet.

  “I’m sorry I took you there. I shouldn’t have tried to go there without the cure.” Tears threatened to spill over her lashes, and she looked away.

  He almost died because of me. Again.

  “Irielle, stop,” he said gruffly, pulling her into his chest. “Didn’t go for cure. Went for you.”

  She pushed back a little, looking up. “What? Why?”

  “Needed healer. Too sick.” He cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing her cheek.

  Something tightened within her chest, something hopeful and painful. She was having trouble meeting his gaze. “You went there . . . for me? Not for the others?”

  “Yes.” A fire burned in his eyes that she’d never seen before, even with Aethen. “Mission success.”

  If he’d gone for a healer, the trip was a success. And they also got warriors in case the Ardak came back.

  She chanced a glance at him, only to find the fire in his eyes wasn’t leaving.

  He went there for me.

  He had walked through miles of snow, wounded, to find her a healer. No one had done anything like that for her before.

  He glanced down at her lips, and suddenly she wanted to kiss him. But she was afraid. What if she wasn’t good at it? She hadn’t been enough for Aethen.

  Simban’s thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and she forced herself to forget her fears. Instinctively, she licked her lips, touching it with her tongue.

  The fire in his eyes flared hotter, and before she knew it, his mouth was on hers. He was at once gentle and fierce, one hand gently threading into her hair while his mouth was claiming hers with passionate hunger. The other hand settled on her lower back, pulling her against him.

  Being in his arms, she could feel his leashed power. Everything he was holding back because of the broken thing in the back of his neck. Pain, grief, hunger, need . . . she found herself matching it.

  Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders while their mouths fought to get closer. She needed this. Hadn’t been close to anyone in so long.

  Their teeth clinked, and he broke away with a curse. His jaw had started twitching, and he frowned, his face reddening. She tried to hold on to him, but he pulled away, turning his back to her. It made it so he didn’t see her slowly raise her fingertips or brush them against her lips, which were still tingling with the remnants of her magic.

  Was Simban supposed to be her mate? Her magic hadn’t even tingled for Aethen, but many younger elves didn’t worry about that anymore. She’d never thought to find her actual mate.

  She contemplated his broad shoulders and the strong lines of his back as it tapered to his waist. Could she be so lucky? Simban was everything she could want—strong, determined, gentle with her.

  And she’d been so determined not to let him in. But what if he didn’t want her? What if he was too broken to let her in?

  Do I have the courage to try again?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Simban

  Simban held on to his jaw, trying to get the muscles to stop jerking. He wanted to melt into the stone floor of the cave. He’d had one chance but couldn’t even kiss her without his chip making a mess of things. Why would she even want him?