by Martha Carr
“Not trying to jinx it.”
“I know.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I know how much work it’s gonna take before anything in this world looks even half right again. I don’t think I can even say things have ever been right with a drow on the throne.”
“Maybe not our version of right.” Ember sipped at her water. “But right for this world. Like the fighting pits.”
“Oh, yeah. Everybody goes crazy for the chance to smash each other up for fun and call it honor and glory.” The halfling chuckled and closed her eyes. “Not to mention purposely slicing each other to the brink of death.”
Ember laughed. “Can’t say a little fun never hurt anybody anymore, can we?”
“Not in Ambar’ogúl.”
“No, I’m talking about the deathflame and the healing part. This place runs on violence. That’s obvious. But it seems to balance itself out, you know? Violence as a way of enjoying peace. Or getting seriously fucked up for a purpose. Get healed in the fighting pits and spread more life magic to this entire world.”
“Hey, good idea.” Grinning, Cheyenne swept her hand in a wide arc around the room. “Let’s set up a giant fighting pit and have everybody go at each other at once. Giant deathflame bonfire on millions of dying bodies, and bam. All the blight gone, everybody healed and happy, and we go home.”
“In theory, that sounds like a promising solution.” Ember refilled her copper cup and sat back again, cradling it in both hands. “Not sure how great it’d work out, though. That’s a lot of deathflame torches on a lot of bodies.”
“We could figure it out.”
They were silent for a moment, then Ember added, “You planning on going back home and picking up right where you left off after all this is over?”
“Probably. I mean, no, not right where I left off. That’ll be impossible after getting the Crown to step down. L’zar said I had two options: stay as the Crown here, or go back home and be Earth’s drow royalty there instead.”
“Everybody needs a leader, right?”
Cheyenne said, “Not everyone, but all those O’gúleesh who made the crossing to get away from this mess? Probably. The FRoE isn’t enough to handle things over there anymore. They don’t even know what they’re handling, or how to help those magicals beyond sticking their names in a stupid database and giving them a tiny house until they think they’re ready to move into the brave new human world on their own. But they’re not. They’re missing huge pieces about how to get by over there, and they don’t have anyone there to show them. The FRoE doesn’t give a shit what they do after they leave the reservations.”
“Sounds like you’ve already made your choice.”
“Not quite. I’m hyper-aware of what those choices are. I mean, there is a third choice, which is going back home without being the Earth-drow monarch but still knowing what I know. It won’t be the same as before, but I won’t be wearing a damn crown, that’s for sure.”
Ember laughed. “Now that I’d like to see.”
“Sorry, Em. Not gonna happen.” Cheyenne looked at the ceiling and brushed loose hair away from her face. “The only thing I know is that I’m not gonna be the Crown here. That’s just too much. I don’t want it, and I can’t leave my mom behind.”
“What, you don’t think she’d follow you across the Border and find herself a cozy little tower?”
They burst out laughing. At least we can still find the parts of this to laugh about. Her smile faded.
“I still need to find someone to be the new Crown over here. I’m not leaving this place in a giant power vacuum, and I have less than two weeks to figure out who the hell that’s gonna be.”
“Maybe your cousin will want the throne.”
“My what?” Cheyenne sat up and frowned at her friend, then made the connection. “Oh. Jesus, that’s weird.”
“Should I call him Ba’rael’s secret heir instead?”
“Very funny. I don’t know what’s gonna happen with him, Em. If he’s anything like me, he won’t want to be a part of this either, and if he’s anything like either of our parents, he’s not the right drow for the job.”
Ember leaned sideways against the lounge and pursed her lips in thought. “Or maybe the right drow for the job isn’t a drow.”
“What, do you want it?”
“Ha. Nice try.”
“Didn’t think so.” Cheyenne kicked off her black Vans and crossed one ankle over the other, lacing her fingers behind her head. “I guess we’ll just have to find out.”
“You don’t seem like you’re in much of a hurry.”
“I’m not. Not right now. Tomorrow’s a whole different story.” And L’zar sure as hell better keep his word. A talk, or I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maleshi poured herself a glass of Bloodshine and took a long drink. The fizzing bubbles made her swallow quickly before she let out a satisfied sigh. Totally worth arguing with three different raugs to get a bottle. Nobody ever said I wasn’t persistent.
Sitting in the large pile of cushions that served as a raug armchair, she dropped her head back and enjoyed the relative silence. She could still hear the cheers and laughter from the square outside and briefly imagined herself out there with the crowd. Nope. I have everything I need right here, though a bath with hot water would be excellent.
A gentle knock sounded on the door to her guest quarters.
Frowning, Maleshi set her cup on the low table and stood. I told them to leave me alone for the night, and I know how good raugs are at remembering.
She went to the door and pulled the iron-ringed handle. “If you’re here to get the Bloodshine back, it’s already gone. Oh.”
Corian stood in front of the open door, his hands in his pockets, and cocked his head. “I always knew you could handle your booze, but that seems a little excessive.”
Maleshi gave him an exasperated look. “It’s a lie. I just opened the damn thing, but the raugs in charge of guarding the alcohol supply here take their jobs seriously. Why are you here?”
He shrugged. “I was hoping you had time for a chat.”
The general frowned and shifted her weight onto one hip. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Not having had the chance to talk to you about anything without interruption for the last few centuries feels like a good place to start.”
“Hmm.” Maleshi leaned into the hall and quickly glanced up and down. Then she shrugged and pulled back in. “Close the door behind you.”
“Yes, General.”
“Cut that out, huh? The loyal soldier crap is getting old.”
Corian closed the door behind him and stood in front of it, his hands in his pockets again.
Maleshi flopped onto the mound of pillows and picked up her cup again, then saw him standing there and snorted. “You’re obviously not standing at attention, so what are you waiting for? I already invited you in.”
“I’m giving you enough time to change your mind.”
“Change my mind.” She snorted and took a long drink of Bloodshine. “I know exactly what I want, not that I’m gonna get it here. Duty before desire, right? And the way I remember it, you’re the one who had problems making up his mind.”
Corian chuckled and dropped his gaze to the floor. “All right. I suppose I deserved that.”
“That’s the least of what you deserve, vae shra’ni.” She studied his bowed head. He still hadn’t stepped farther into the room. “I’m not going to change my mind. Come sit.”
Glancing at her briefly, Corian moved swiftly across the room and pulled an extra-large cushion toward the low table.
Maleshi grabbed an extra cup, filled it to the brim with bubbling Bloodshine, and handed it over. “What’s going on?”
“I’m concerned.” Corian took the drink and held it over his crossed legs, frowning at the golden liquid.
“Interesting.”
“Ha. That’s all you have to say?”
Corian shook his head. “Not a task. I’m concerned about him and where this is headed.”
“And you came to me for advice?”
With a self-conscious smile, Corian dipped his head and stared at the cup as he raised it to his lips. “More like comfort, honestly. I’m starting to think I knocked on the wrong door.”
Maleshi swallowed and watched him try to hide his embarrassment behind the cup. After centuries, now he needs comfort from me. Something’s wrong. “Where is he right now?”
“In the square playing king of spells with the raugs.”
“Are you sure?”
Corian looked at her, his jaw clenching. “Maleshi, I wouldn’t have come to you like this if I didn’t know exactly where he was and what he was doing. I don’t want him to know I’m here.”
“Neither do I.” She set down her cup and sat up straighter on the mound of pillows. “But you obviously need to get something off your chest, and I think you should stay to do that.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She spread her arms and gestured to the pile of cushions around her. “I am very busy right now, so just know this bottle of Bloodshine is going to feel particularly abandoned until I can give it my full attention again.”
He snorted. “By all means, drink while you listen. We might both need it.”
“Corian.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re stalling.”
Corian took another drink and reached for the bottle to refill his cup. “All this about Ba’rael having a child and us going to find him. It doesn’t feel right.”
“I thought you agreed we should speak to him?”
“I do. Cazerel didn’t say a thing about where he is. About where we’re going.”
“You don’t trust the raugs?”
“No, I do. I don’t think they trust us. We only got into that meeting because of Ember, and that says enough on its own. I’m not worried about the raugs, but L’zar seems way too excited for a family reunion and a quick chat about the future.” Corian rubbed the back of his neck. “He won’t tell me what he plans to do with this newfound nephew of his, and I’m not sure I can predict his intentions anymore. Not as well as I used to, at any rate.”
“You think he’s lying to you?”
“Lying and avoiding the whole truth are one and the same for him. You know that.”
Maleshi frowned. “I do. I also don’t see a reason why he’d keep anything from you. Not now, when we’re so close to finishing all this.”
“Neither do I, but I can feel it.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and stared at the ceiling. “Now I know how Cheyenne felt before she learned the rest of what she needed to know.”
“You’re comparing two very different things, vae shra’ni.” Maleshi dipped her chin and stared at him from beneath her darkened brows until he met her gaze. “Neither of them knows how to fulfill their role with the other. Is it strange to see L’zar Verdys loosening up around the halfling daughter he’s known for all of a month? Absolutely. Can we trust that he’s trying to do all this for her and for the world he despises as much as some O’gúleesh despise him? Maybe.”
“That’s the thing. I thought I did.” Corian bit his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “I’m not sure I do anymore. I think he’s hiding things from me because we’re this close to the end, and he no longer thinks it’s necessary to keep me informed.”
“That’s not the way you two operate.”
“Yes, I’m well aware.”
Maleshi scooted closer to the edge of the pillows. “Do you think he’s noticed that you feel this way?”
“No. He knows I agree with Cheyenne that using Ba’rael’s son against her is not the route we want to take. He also knows I stand with him in heading out to wherever they’re keeping him to see him for ourselves and make our judgment call then.”
“Then leave it at that. Make the judgment call then, and don’t spend time worrying about it until we get there. That won’t do any of us any good.”
Corian closed his eyes. “I can’t lie to him, Maleshi.”
“You have to. If L’zar thinks you’re questioning him, you know how he’ll react. He hasn’t had nearly enough time to recover from the Weave he spent all that time cloaking around himself, and then he returned to the Sorren Gán. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s as unstable now as he was the first time he made that journey. Don’t set him off.”
“You think I want to?” Corian set his cup on the table, rubbed his lips, and stood. “It was a mistake to come here. I’m sorry.”
“Corian, you brought me into this by coming to talk to me now of all times. Don’t walk away from this conversation before it’s finished.”
“Why, because you’re the only one who gets to do that?”
Maleshi leaped from the cushions and hissed, “Don’t you dare compare that to this! I told you exactly what was happening. I laid everything at your feet. All her plans. All the orders I’d been given to carry out. Every single speck of information, yours and L’zar’s to do with however you saw fit. You had a choice.”
“I know.” Corian stared at her and raised both hands in submission. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“No, sorry isn’t good enough, especially not now. He told you to leave. He saw what you wanted, and he handed it to you on a fell-damn tray. You turned away from all of it.”
“Maleshi.”
“Don’t do that.” She pointed at him and shook her head. “Don’t try to talk your way out of this. You’ve been skirting around it for centuries, Corian, and you’re trying to do the same thing again, right here in front of me! L’zar knew he’d be going Earthside again. He knew he’d be spending as much time over there as he did, and he told you to come with me. You turned against both of us when you stayed here, and then what? You made the crossing centuries later, settled into a world full of humans, and didn’t once try to find me? I am here for you now, vae shra’ni, and you still owe me.”
“You’re right.”
“I know I’m right!” Maleshi balled her fists, glaring at him and breathing heavily through her clenched teeth. “Don’t talk to me about walking away like you know what that means.”
His jaw clenched, Corian stepped toward her and paused. “I should have come with you. I didn’t have all the pieces before you left, and L’zar didn’t give them willingly to me then. That’s what I’m afraid of, ma gairín. It feels like it’s happening all over again, only this time I know the consequences of not seeing what he sees.” He took a sharp breath and grimaced at the ceiling. “Maybe the consequences of knowing what he plans to do are even worse.”
“Maybe they are.” Maleshi smoothed her dark hair away from her face and regained her composure. “There’s a good chance that if he hasn’t told you to do something, there’s nothing to do but wait and watch. And if he does give an order, no matter how insane it is, I hope you follow it. Sometimes I want to rip that drow limb from limb, but as long as I’ve known him, he’s never been wrong.”
“I was, though.” Corian slowly approached her and lifted a hand toward her face. Maleshi tilted her head away slightly and stared at him. He nodded, ran his fingers briefly along her cheek, and dropped his hand. “And I am sorry.”
“So am I.” Maleshi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I think we’re finished with this conversation.”
“Right.” A pained frown creased his eyebrows, and he nodded. “I’ll let you get back to your drinking.”
“I didn’t tell you to leave.” When he turned back toward her, she gave him a soft smile. “You said you came looking for comfort, didn’t you?”
A wry chuckle escaped him. “That’s not what I found, but I’ll be fine.”
“Or you could stay. Find comfort without L’zar Verdys
being at the center of it.” Maleshi nodded toward the bottle on the table, still three-quarters full. “That Bloodshine won’t drink itself.”
The corners of Corian’s mouth flickered into the hint of a smile, and he turned to eye the bottle. “Are you sure?”
“As I said, I know what I want. Just waiting for you to make your decision.”
He studied her silver gaze, then dipped his head and returned to the table to fill both their cups. When Maleshi joined him, Corian handed her a drink and raised his for a toast. “To Maleshi Hi’et, who always gets what she wants.”
“And Corian Vedi’im, who somehow always wants what he gets.”
They knocked their metal cups together, staring at each other, and drank.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Shut up, already! I’m trying to sleep.
With a groan, Cheyenne Summerlin rolled over in the massive bed and tossed the thick, itchy blanket off her shoulders. The muffled shouts and raucous laughter spilling through the substantial door to her private room quieted enough to let her slip back into unconsciousness.
Ten seconds later, something huge crashed into a bunch of metal and stone, followed by uproarious laughter and growling voices shouting in French.
The sound startled Cheyenne out of her sleep again, and she pounded a fist into the thick, hard pillow beneath her to push herself up. “What the hell is wrong with those guys?”
More shouts and laughter carried into her room. Someone else grunted and fell against more metal, then a deep, rough voice broke out in tuneless song.
With an aggravated grunt, Cheyenne sat upright and pushed herself off the side of the huge bed before striding barefoot across the room. She flung open the heavy, creaking wooden door and stumbled into the living room connecting her guest quarters in the raug city to Ember’s.
The ruckus outside was much louder now, echoing up the stone walls of the building and spilling into the main room through the open balcony. She blinked at the darkness of the sky beyond the balcony, not quite the black of night but nowhere near late enough for everyone to be awake like this.
