Page 9 of They Call Me Blue

“In Rayna, there are two types of elves—those who live in the trees and those who dwell beneath the ground. Topside, elves prioritize family and peace. Underground, they form a militia capable of committing atrocities that rival those of the elgrew. Children are banned from their society, and the Claimed are used as bait to lure Hunters in. They are brutes and monsters. They are the Resistance.”

—Esin of Ashwood, Chieftain of the Lo’kowe Tribe.

S houlder Squish Cave is all but invisible—a solid wall of bedrock with an opening so narrow it can only be accessed by squeezing sideways through it, thus the name.

Teal oo’ren moss glosses over the entrance, giving it this iridescent sheen that glitters in the moonlight.

Carved into the moss, into the very rock itself, is a sigil—a vertical line with two dots on opposite sides of it.

Starra’lee. The underground elves.

Nirissa squeezes through the entrance first, then Fenris, then me. I suck in my nonexistent gut and feel the cool, slimy rocks press against me still. They scrape along my stomach, catching on my hide breastwrap half a second before the cave opens up. I nearly stumble inside.

It takes a moment to gather my bearings and adjust to the sudden brightness.

Knotted cords hang from the ceiling at varying lengths.

Attached to the bottom of them are glass orbs filled with glowflies that crawl up the sides, blinking magenta light.

In the forest, light is a luxury we can’t afford; it’ll lure elgrew in.

Here, we’re bathed in it. Pink flashes illuminate a damp, low-rising chamber.

Water glistens off stalactites and stalagmites that try to join in the center, forming jagged columns that look like teeth.

The members of our tribe gather in small clusters, half-hidden by the cave’s rock formations.

They have to duck to get around, but not Nirissa and me.

We’re short and small enough that we can still fit almost anywhere.

Swinging the go-bag from my shoulder, I point to an empty corner of the cave and urge Nirissa to settle in.

She rubs her sleep-filled eyes and trudges there, curling up around a stalagmite.

Fenris remains in place, his black eyes watery, his pupils slowly contracting back to normal.

“You alright?” I ask. “You could put on the goggles.”

“I’ll be fine.” He wipes the moisture from his eyes and blinks a half dozen times, his vision likely reduced to shadows and light spots. “Go get settled. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

I nod, then follow Nirissa’s path. No one speaks to me as I pass by; they’re too busy setting up camp, laying out blankets to sleep on, and rebandaging wounds.

Whispers echo through the cave, but none of them are intelligible.

In my periphery, Fenris bumbles not toward me, but toward High Priest Selik and a group of healers who unload their medical cache onto the floor.

Odd.

Fenris isn’t injured—not that I’m aware of.

He leans in close to Selik and whispers something in his ear. The high priest stiffens.

Unease settles low in my belly, but it’s probably nothing.

Fenris is acting chief until morning elections, so it likely has something to do with security or resources.

Still, I wish I could use my sezin to listen in.

Amplifying this many voices would deafen me, though, just as easily as using it near the river or in the rain.

The healers join in on Fenris’s conversation.

They fumble with leather pouches on their belts, withdrawing clay, corked vials in every imaginable color—red with blue swirls, yellow with green stripes, pinks, and blues, and something coal black.

They lay the medicines next to their surgical equipment, displaying them in neat rows.

“Whatcha doing?” Nirissa asks. I jump when I see her standing behind me.

“You should be in bed,” I say, my cheeks flaming at getting caught.

“It’s too cold. You have my blanket.”

“Oh.” I stare down at the go-bag I’m still holding. Oops. “Come on, let’s get you to sleep.”

Hand in hand, I walk her back to our spot. As she gets comfortable, I unfasten the buckles on my bag and fish out our only blanket. Then, I tuck her in. Nirissa sucks on her thumb and curls into the fetal position, her big eyes roaming the cave.

“I don’t understand why we have to sleep in here,” she says, slurring the words around her thumb. Drool dribbles out the side of her mouth. “It’s so . . .”

Suffocating?

Crowded?

Bleak?

I feel the strangeness as much as she does. Elves belong in the forest, surrounded by fresh air and starlight—not in tight, enclosed spaces. “I know it’s weird, bug, but it’s just for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll find another orangeleaf forest to stay in.”

“Will they still be mad at us?”

My gaze drifts back to Fenris, Selik, and the healers—all still chattering away. As the chieftain’s son, Fenris has always been popular, but I’ve never felt left out until now. “Don’t worry about that, bug. Everyone’s a little sad because of the funeral, but they still love us. We’re family.”

I wish I felt as confident as I sound. Nirissa takes my word for truth, though, and rolls toward the wall, closing her eyes. It doesn’t take long for the snores to start.

Lowering myself onto the floor beside her, I cringe at the cold dampness. Goosebumps prick my arms and I resist a shiver, rubbing my biceps to generate warmth.

“You look cold,” Fenris says, appearing beside me. “Good thing I have this.” Smirking, he holds two clay mugs of steaming liquid, the contents blood-red.

A quick glance around the cave shows others with drinks as well.

Selik and the healers have begun to brew it in a large cauldron, heating it not with fires, but on wooden chips engraved with magical runes.

Neither elves nor elgrew can cast magic, but the fae who came before us could, occasionally imbuing artifacts that we stumble across.

The wooden chips glow bright-hot, activated with secret words only leadership knows.

I wonder if they shared that information with Fenris.

He offers one of the cups to me and the warmth provides instantaneous relief, the steam heating my cheeks and burning my fingertips in the best kind of way.

I breathe in the sweet floral scent of scarlet tea and take a sip, groaning in pleasure.

It’s spiced with cinnamon and cloves and something I can’t quite place.

Something weird. Something bitter that makes me crinkle my nose.

“I hate caves,” I tell him, drinking deeper, adapting to the flavor.

“Me too.” Fenris takes a long swig then sits across from me.

“It makes me nervous when I can’t use my lamellae.

” He flexes his fingers, pressing them to the cave floor.

They slide right off. Stone—especially wet stone—and fingerpads don’t mix.

We’re defenseless in here if we’re caught, unable to climb, unable to flee because there’s only one exit.

The hairs rise on the back of my neck—a trapped panic threatening to consume me.

Fenris shakes me out of it. Literally. Brows furrowed, he grabs me by the shoulders and points to the entrance as someone new squeezes through it.

“Is that . . . ?” He trails off, his mouth hanging half open.

I don’t recognize the woman, but she’s dressed in fighting leathers and armed to the gills. A bandolier of knives hangs across her chest, and her face is covered in war paint—lips and eyes a dark black. Like Fenris, her pupils are fully dilated, and tears stream down her cheeks, streaking the kohl.

“Do you think she’s in Starra’lee?” Fenris finally asks.

“She can’t be.”

As far as I know, no one in our tribe has ever seen the underground elves before.

They’re more myth than anything—monsters who hunt elgrew for sport, who move like ghosts in the night, unseen, unheard, deadly.

Children are banned from their camps. The only way to join them is to be recruited personally.

Nausea turns my stomach, and suddenly I’m not thirsty anymore. I set the cup down with a click and slide it away from me.

Will Starra’lee punish us for using one of their sanctuaries? Will they kick us out?

This cave has always been empty in the past. Up until now, I assumed it had been abandoned.

The stranger closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “This is a Starra’lee bunker,” she growls. “Unless you plan on enlisting, get the fuck out—and take those damn lights with you!”

Everyone freezes, including me. Selik is the first to stand. He rises from his spot near the cauldron and approaches her open-palmed—not that she can see him. Her darkeyes are still closed, still watering.

“We need the space tonight,” Selik says. “There’s been an elgrew spotting nearby.”

“And why is that my problem?” She glares at him—at all of us—a pale gray rim forming around her enlarged pupils. Tight braids cling to her scalp, and an orange-furred cloak peeks from the duffle strapped to her shoulder. “We agreed to stay out of each other’s spaces. Or have you forgotten?”

“You’re outnumbered,” Selik says calmly. “We don’t need your permission to stay.”

Her teeth flash. They’ve been filed into points like an elgrew’s. “Is that how it is?”

“That’s how it is.” Arms crossed, Selik stares her down in a way I never could.

And then she relents.

The woman rubs her face, smearing kohl, then stomps past Fenris and me—the stone shaking beneath her thick military boots.

Sighing, she throws her go-bag to the floor and crouches low like a verncat ready to strike.

Her angry gaze lands on me, and I jerk my head away, looking at anything else.

I get the distinct feeling none of the other Starra’lee members are nearby; if they were, we’d be mudsnake food by now.

A sharp pain travels through my stomach. For half a second, my vision blurs and I moan, pressing my forehead against the cool cave wall. Then, it passes.

“Are you alright?” Fenris asks.