Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series by Maree Anderson

failed? If he’d been forced to watch her die? Immediately that stomach-churning thought formed came a sensation like someone had reached into his chest cavity to wring his heart between relentless fingers. He fisted a hand at his breastbone, holding his breath until the sensation eased. But nothing could ease his turmoil at the thought of Sera, so young and vibrant and bright, lying cold and lifeless on the floor…. And even another century in a cursed crystal would be preferable than witnessing Opal’s anguish at the loss of her child.
    The Healer jabbed a button affixed to the door, and whatever device the button was attached to gave a series of wheezing buzzes before choking off. Danbur heard footsteps, murmured voices, and then the door was flung wide by a heavyset man. His thick gray moustaches drooped to his chin and he sported a bushy beard at odds with his close-shaved gray hair.
    “Max,” the man said by way of greeting. “And I’m guessing one of yous is Danbur.”
    “That’d be him,” Roth said with a quick jerk of his chin in Danbur’s direction. “And this would be yours.” He handed the bag of clothing to Max. “From an old guy.” Roth rubbed his temples and squinted. “Huh. Seem to have forgotten his name.”
    “Peter,” Max said. “He called to give us the heads up ya both were on the way.”
    “Sounds right.” Roth yawned widely as he knuckled his eye sockets, and then he scrubbed his face with both hands. “Sorry for the brain-fade. Been an interesting night. I’m Roth, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.
    “Pleased ta meetcha.” Max gripped Roth’s hand and shook it.
    “I’m on call tomorrow—better make tracks. But before I head off, I’d ’preciate you checking in on Danbur at some stage during the night. He passed out earlier on—was complaining of headaches, too. Any concerns give me a ring. Doesn’t matter how early or late.” He fished a card from a back pocket in his trousers and pressed it into Max’s hand.
    Max glanced at the card and nodded. “Will do, doc.”
    “My thanks for ministering to the child,” Danbur said. “I am in your debt.”
    Roth shook his head. “You helped the kid through two asthma attacks—meaning I didn’t have much to do when I got there, which is just the way I like it. You don’t owe me a thing.”
    Danbur gauged the sincerity in Roth’s expression and nodded, accepting his debt was paid in full.
    “Be seeing ya, Danbur.” Roth turned on his heel and headed for his SUV, leaving Danbur to turn his full attention to Max.
    The older man’s gaze swept over him, doubtless assessing his attire. Age-softened, scarred leather pants and vest might be unremarkable back on his home world but Danbur suspected such attire did little to help him blend in this one. He waited for Max to comment but the man’s expression remained neutral, and all he said was, “Let’s see what we can rustle up in the kitchen.”
    As if on cue Danbur’s stomach growled. “I have no coin,” he said, opting for bluntness. Pain and hunger fought for dominance in his belly, and fatigue was making his head swim. Pride was an affectation he could ill afford right now. “I will work to pay off the meal and a bed for the night. You have only to show me what needs doing.”
    Max grunted—whether with approval or displeasure Danbur could not discern—and beckoned him inside. Danbur followed him through to a bright, spacious room littered with strange devices. The only furnishings Danbur instantly recognized were the large wooden table and benches. He saw neither fireplace nor hearth, however two mid-sized cook-pots perched atop a large, shiny silver contraption. His nostrils flared and he inhaled a savory meaty aroma. Apparently the contraption was somehow providing heat enough to cook the contents of the pots. His mouth watered. Cooked by magical means or otherwise, it smelled good.
    Max dumped the bag of clothing atop the table and indicated with a flick of