Damn her.
He couldn’t keep his head around her, couldn’t face her blind faith that he was the one, that he would find the key. Couldn’t face his attraction to her—or his abject fear that he wasn’t the one. That he would let her down.
It didn’t matter how many times he told himself to remain calm—how much he fought for his usual stoicism to return. Every time he saw her he was overrun by emotion, by attraction to her that could be fatal to one or both of them if he was distracted from his duties. It would be safer for her if she left him alone, safer for both of them.
When she reached the top, he swung to face her. "Why are you here?"
Her glowing eyes burned him when they flitted over his body, finally landing on his face. She blinked. "You need someone."
In that moment, reading her expression, he realized she was also there because she needed him.
Perhaps as much as he needed her.
They were two strangers, in a strange land of magic and cyborgs and feline warriors. He looked out over the trees, his gaze on the horizon. "My mind fights this place, these people that I never knew existed. Metal parts. Magic. It all began with you." He turned to her, clenching his jaw. "I want to hate you. I want to wish you'd never brought me here. But then I see you, and I can't." He reached out a hand for hers, entwining their fingers. "Your purity, your beauty. They draw me in—like a moth to the flame. I can't resist it, even though I know I'm going to be the one who gets burned."
Chapter Twenty
Lielle
Lielle stared down at their entwined fingers, watching his thumb brush over the back of her hand. His anger, his hopelessness called to her beyond the duty of her position, tugging at her heart. Zordjin the emperor had been a pompous prick, arrogant in his years and knowledge of the world. But Zordan the cyborg was a different matter entirely. The bounds of his reality had been shaken, his balance destroyed.
Lielle had felt that, too, knew the power of having her reality ripped away, of adjusting to a new world. First when the elven empire had closed the portals, stranding them on Amarth Aguhm. And for the second time when she'd died and risen to the higher elven realm. To find that there was a higher realm was in itself a shock, but then she had to find a place for herself within it. It had taken her almost three centuries to be chosen as an apprentice seer, three more before she got her own planet to watch over when Lahrelle became the queen.
She wanted to tell him that the visions didn’t work the way he thought. To tell him that victory may be possible. But in the short time she’d been here, even she knew it was highly unlikely. All she really knew was that they had to try. Her soul, the souls in the higher elven realm, the souls of all the elves to come, they were depending on her for their survival.
She couldn't just let him walk away.
What could she say to convince him to fight?
For the first time in centuries, words failed her. She didn't reply, but closed her eyes and focused on the sensations of his touch. The tingling where their skin met, the thrill of magic running through her body. It was like touching the source stone in the palace, sparkles running through her cells. It was the closest she’d felt to the higher elven realm since coming to the mortal plane.
Trust your instincts. Trust your heart.
The queen’s words echoed in her mind as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it, pulling her closer.
His voice lowered, becoming soft and deep. "Then you have a vision, and I want to deny it. But when I touch you, when I feel your magic, I know it's real. Just as I know this thing between us is real."
"What thing between us?" Her voice was breathless. Perhaps he would think it was the climb.
His fingers went to her hair, brushing it back over her shoulder. "You know what I mean. I should be focused on our defenses. Should be preparing for the war. But every time your body brushes past mine, every time your glowing eyes fall on any part of me, I feel a fire rise in my blood." His thumb brushed over her lips. "So innocent. So tempting."
When she didn't reply, his lips thinned and he let his hand drop.
She reached for it, bringing it back to her lips. "Not that innocent. It's just been a long time." Fifteen centuries, to be precise. A long time was an understatement.
At her words, the fire in his eyes blazed hotter and he propped himself against a boulder, pulling her closer still. "Then show me. Let me drink in your beauty."
Her eyes searched his as she fitted her body to his. He lowered himself against the boulder so she was level with his mouth. Their breaths mingled in the chilled air. Almost imperceptibly she began to close the distance between them, until her lips barely brushed his. His mouth opened and he gave a sound of hungry need that sounded like it was ripped from his chest.
She knew that need—the empty feeling. It spoke to something deep within her and she melted into him, letting him bury his fingers in her hair, penetrate her mouth with deep, searching caresses of his tongue. His hands came down to cup her hips, lifting her until she was straddling his waist. A cry escaped her when his hardness brushed against her heat. Tingles raced through her and she rucked up his shirt, trying to feel more of his skin on hers. He stopped her with a growl. "It's too cold for that out here."
With a wave of her hand she created a portal.
He wasted no time entering it, and three strides later he was dropping her onto the bed at Renwyn that Aielle had given her but she’d never used. He covered her, his mouth meeting hers once more. When her tongue met his, he bucked his hips against her once with a groan of need. His lips moved to her neck and she cried out as he found the tender spot at the base of her ear, her fingers threading into his hair so dark it was almost black. Still clothed, he moved against her, his body demanding, his eyes burning hers with their need.
When he stopped, she just lay there, drinking in his expressions, her fingers leaving his hair to brush the lines and hollows of his face. He rose up onto his elbows. "Are you sure? You're not afraid, are you?"
"Afraid?" she asked, bemused.
He rolled off her and ran a hand through his hair. "There's something about you, a purity I've never known. I don't want to be the one to take that from you." His words were hoarse with need, evident in the fine trembling of his fingers.
Lielle pushed away the haze of magic and desire, forcing herself to focus on his words. Rising up onto her knees, she reached for the hem of his shirt. He didn't move, didn't help her, so she moved over him to straddle his waist. "The purity you see is probably the remainder of the energy from the higher elven realm," she said softly, looking straight into his eyes. "But I'm not there now. I'm here, in the mortal realm, with you. I burn. You take nothing from me, Zordan. I'm giving it to you."
At her words, he raised his arms, allowing her to pull his shirt up over his head. His fingers went to the laces at her bodice, unhooking them deftly despite the shaking of his fingers. When the garment was loose enough, he drew it off over her head, then the blouse beneath it.
Then he pulled her up over him, his lips meeting hers. They wandered over her throat, then down to take one of the beaded buds of her nipples in his mouth. Weakness pervaded her limbs, and when she sank down upon him, he rolled her over so she was lying on her back. He made short work of her clothing, then rose to undo his pants.
The blood rushed in her veins, her heartbeat pulsed in her ears, and tingles ran up and down her body. She had never wanted anything more.
He obviously felt the same because he kicked his pants free, warming her with his haste.
Then he came back over her, sinking down onto his elbows and kissing her again. His hand slid down between them, finding her center, rubbing there until she cried out and lifted her hips, seeking more. Then he slid into her slowly, stretching her, pressing against her with his weight.
Rather than the pain she had expected, she felt only pleasure. She raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist, urging him to go deeper inside her. He obeyed slowly, but once in
side he held himself there, allowing her to adjust to his girth.
And then he began to move. He thrust his hips in slow, shallow movements, narrowed eyes watching her expressions. Every time she wanted more, he gave it to her, following the subtle clues of her body she was almost unaware of until he’d adjusted for them.
For long minutes she thought him unaffected, his thrusts measured and precise as he moved, stoking her desires. But as she began to rise to meet him, his thrusts became less controlled. She could see the hunger, the need, creeping into his expression. It was the same hunger she felt.
She held on to him tightly, almost afraid to let go, afraid to give in to the ecstasy that threatened to overcome her.
Then Zordan threaded his fingers through hers, sinking down on her until they were eye to eye. His every long, slow thrust rubbed against her, drawing out the pleasure until she couldn’t hold back her moans and cries. When she could bear it no longer, he seemed to sense it and began to drive himself inside her more quickly, insistently.
She couldn’t hold back the sensations, panting as he impaled her over and over again. She surrendered with a cry, her body clenching around him as she went over the edge. On the next thrust he went deep and held himself inside her, and she felt him throbbing just before he released a groan and filled her with warmth.
Her body relaxed slowly, still trembling with aftershocks as he rolled to the side, taking her with him.
After he’d recovered his breath, he brushed the hair back from her face. “How do you feel?”
"For a few moments, I felt like I was back in the higher elven realm,” she said honestly. At his lascivious grin, she realized she might have been too honest.
Abruptly, she sat up, realizing the sun had gone down. “Oh gods! We’ve been wasting time. You’re supposed to be watching the elves spar.”
Zordan shook his head, pulling her back toward his chest. “It’s too late for that. I already spoke to them over the frequency—I’m going to meet with them in the morning.”
“This is my fault.” She was mortified. “I didn't mean to keep you from your duties."
Finally, he rose, his hands going to her shoulders. "Lielle, you didn't keep me from my duties. You may not know this, but you're the reason I'm doing my duties—the only thing about this place that's keeping me sane."
From the certainty of his words, and the earnestness of his expression, she knew he was telling the truth. She nodded shyly, clinging to him for a moment. "I feel the same way about you."
"Good." He leaned down and kissed her soundly, then laid back and pulled her on top of him so she straddled his waist. “Tordan promised to send someone up with food later, but until then, I can think of a few other things I want to do.”
Lielle sank down on top of him, letting him seduce her with the warmth of his lips, and hot words whispered in her ear.
The fate of the universe, the higher elven realm, and the fate of all the souls within them might be at stake. But tonight, the only souls that mattered were the two cocooned in blankets in the room at the end of the corridor at Rewnyn. And those souls needed soothing if they were to continue the search for the key and the preparations for war in the morning.
Chapter Twenty-One
Zordan
Zordan surveyed Renwyn from the ramparts of the castle, standing beside his brother. The sun was dawning magnificently over the waters to the east, reminiscent of the sunrise at Vidora. The tallest tower was high enough for him to see leagues into the distance in all directions. Rich forest spread outward, but was thicker in a circle spreading outward from the palace, graduating into the different type of forest he’d hiked yesterday.
“Does the elven magic cause the forest to grow in a circular pattern?”
“No,” Tordan replied. “That’s from the shield that used to protect this place after the Ardak invasion.”
“How are you doing at rebuilding that shield?”
Tordan met his gaze. “Aielle met with Geeeroo and Kiersten, and they’re working together to search the crystals from the Cave of Knowledge for an answer. Believe it or not, she told me last night that she thinks they’re close to an answer.”
“Great. That’s the best news I’ve heard since I got here.”
Tordan’s gaze went distant for a moment. “It must be terrible for you, arriving here in the middle of a war.” He strode toward the wall, standing just back from the edge. “Directly west, you can see the very tip of the Siirtian mountains, where we used to have our home. Our realm was fairly leveled in the Ardak invasion—few buildings still stand and most everything is burned. But you can’t see that from here.”
“So the only thing that still stands is the Ardak base?”
“Yes. If we defeat them, some of our people have asked me to put some resources into cleaning it up and rebuilding it for those who would like to go back.”
The duty on Tordan’s shoulders was like a physical weight, and he knew it well. The feeling of all the lives that depended on them for survival. For their resourcefulness and decision-making in times of peace, and for their quick thinking in battle, their strategic planning in war. And this war was going to be more uneven than most, due to the sheer numbers of the enemy. Ten thousand Ardaks was roughly ten times the size of their combined forces.
He’d had a breakdown yesterday, but today he’d come back to himself and realized how wrong it had been. None of them could afford to have doubts, regardless of how hopeless it might appear. Taking a step forward until his toes were touching the side of the short wall, Zordan said, “You mean when we defeat them.”
He didn’t look over, but in his peripheral vision, he saw Tordan take a deep breath. Then his brother raised his chin, and stepped up to the edge as well.
“Yes. I meant when we defeat them.” His voice was stronger. Tordan was a smart man, he knew exactly what Zordan was doing.
“Good. And now we make plans to do that.”
Tordan rubbed his forehead. “I damn sure hope you can find that key.”
“We will defeat them regardless.”
Tordan’s gray eyes searched his. “Yes. But after we make plans, you’re still going to search for the key, right?”
Zordan stood taller. “Stop trying to find a way out.”
Tordan’s gaze waivered. “I’m not looking for a way out.”
“Yes, you are!” Zordan’s voice thundered through the air, and Tordan took a step back.
Zordan followed him, backing him up to the stone wall of the highest story of the palace. “Let’s get this straight. There is no one but us. No one else to fight, no one else to defeat them, no one that will magically save us. We can’t depend on anyone or anything else, so stop looking. Not the elves. Not the crystals. Not the key or the resistance. In this war, there is no one but us!” He finished by pounding a fist against his chest, then Tordan’s, his lungs heaving.
Tordan eyed him for long moments, then his gaze grew fierce. “You’re right. There is no one but us.”
Some of the anger left him. “I will follow the visions, if Lielle has more of them. I want to see the elves and get an understanding of their magic. But let me be clear to you—your survival depends upon how well we fortify your castle, and how well you conduct the war on your lands. Forget everything else but that.”
Tordan nodded. “I wish I had your experience with war.”
Zordan snorted. “No, brother, you don’t.” There was no answer for that, and thankfully Tordan didn’t try to make up one. “I have more experience with war than I ever wanted. While you ruled a peaceful country in the mountains, I built an empire.”
“Why did you go to war so much?” Tordan asked, his voice curious.
Of course he would wonder. From all appearances, this land to the north was very civilized before the Ardak invasion. Zordan debated for a moment. Should he tell Tordan of the brutality, the inhumanity of the humans to the south?
Zordan lowered his voice. “It’s probably difficult to unders
tand war if you’ve never seen slavery, or starvation. If you’ve never heard tales of your women being stolen and sold across borders. Or if you’ve never heard of the neighboring king butchering those he’d just conquered in battle.” Zordan paused, letting his words sink in. “But I heard all those tales. I saw them. For the first forty years, I lived them. It is a time I’ve tried to wipe from my mind.”
“I’m sorry you lived that life,” Tordan’s voice was low, angry. “The humans sound disturbingly like the Ardaks.”
“If the Ardaks are anything like the humans, then we’re lucky I did. Make no mistake, Tordan. I might seem civilized now, but I’m one cold bastard in battle. I will do everything I can to ensure we have the upper hand. And when we do, I will butcher those Ardaks without blinking. I know what happens when beings like them take control of a defenseless population. We cannot let that happen here.” He leveled his stare at Tordan. “It’s time to take stock of our resources, and formalize our plans. Please list the status of your fortifications and defenses, King Tordan.”
Tordan’s eyes met his, some of the steel returning. “We may have a crystal shield if Aielle can figure it out in time. We have underground levels in the castle and tunnels that spread out from below it, along with others that begin behind the castle that we can use to flee.” Tordan pointed to the forest out front. “We’ve been setting traps in the forest so the Ardaks shouldn’t be able to get through that easily—thousands of spiked pits for them to step in, and piles of boulders the elves can throw at them. Piles of chopped logs that can be set aflame and flung at them, or simply used to start lines of fire. We’ve back dug from the castle so the flames won’t spread to it.”
Zordan gestured to the hill in front of the castle. “Is there a way to dig a sharp drop into the hills between the castle and the forest?”
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