by Martha Carr
“What offer?” Cheyenne spat. She glanced up at the sealed metal doors along the walkway. L’zar said he was right behind me. Should’ve known he’d screw that up too.
“An offer to join me, Cheyenne. You’ve been made a pawn in someone else’s war, one that was never yours to fight. You belong in a seat of power, hidna. One like mine.”
“You don’t want to just give up the throne.”
The Crown threw her head back and laughed. Cheyenne expected it to sound like an evil cackle, but it was one of the gentlest lilting laughs she’d ever heard. “I appreciate your ambition. I really do. I’m staying in my seat for quite some time, thank you. But I want to offer you a place beside me. To be my eyes and ears. To use the power you have to serve the Crown and the world that birthed you.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Hmm. Did that grinning thief tell you he meant to bring me down?” The Crown’s smile tightened into a grimace, her upper lip twitching. “Did he promise you power at his side when he returned to Hangivol to wrest my power out of my hands?” The drow woman lifted her hands and spread her fingers, wiggling them.
Cheyenne struggled against the force pressing her to the tree and looked down at her right hand. She opened it and summoned an energy sphere, but it flickered right back out again. Fuck.
“I understand L’zar Verdys can be immensely persuasive.” The Crown pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring in disgust as she looked Cheyenne over. “But where is he now, hmm? He sent you into the heart of the throne he wants to take, and he won’t lift a finger to help you. I’ve been trying to reach you since the second I felt your power here in this very courtyard.” Gazing around, the drow woman widened her smile. “You didn’t recognize my offers for what they were, and I can’t blame you for that. The human world is rife with twisted truths, Cheyenne. Join me, and I will show you the real world in more clarity than you can possibly imagine. Leave L’zar to his little games on Earth, hmm? This is where the real drow belong.”
Cheyenne stared at the Crown, her chest heaving. She doesn’t know he’s here. She has no idea. The halfling glanced down at the small, tree-shaped pin stuck through the hem of her shirt. And I can’t reach that thing.
“I only have so much patience, girl.” The Crown sneered, white teeth flashing in her slate-gray face. “Make your choice, and for the sake of full transparency, you only have two. Accept my offer, or I will feed the roots of that ancestor tree with your blood as I have done with countless others before you. Of course, the choice is up to you.”
No other choice, right? I’m screwed either way.
Cheyenne swallowed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she stared into the Crown’s glowing golden eyes. “Show me then.”
“Show you?” The drow woman’s grin widened. “You are curious, aren’t you? What would you like to see first, hmm? The way I’ve built this empire to bend to the magic I can show you how to wield? I would very much love to teach you.”
“Show me how to kill L’zar.”
“Oh!” The Crown’s lilting laughter filled the courtyard again. “Even when you’re trying to defy me, I can see that is something you want. We have that in common. He’s always been a disappointment. We can start there, then.”
With a flick of her dark wrist, the Crown dropped the immense force pressing Cheyenne against the tree. She stumbled forward and stopped, not daring to race toward the altar again. Not yet. “This’ll be fun.”
“Yes, it will.”
Cheyenne slapped her palm on the tree-shaped nalís pin at the hem of her shirt. “Abdur orzj, L’zar.”
The Crown’s eyes widened, and a portal burst to life against the wall of the courtyard. L’zar barreled through it, his eyes blazing with purple light as he raised both hands toward the Crown, grinning like a madman.
“No!” The Crown’s gaze darted between Cheyenne and her drow father. Her hands lashed out toward both of them at the same time, and dark light spewed from her fingertips. Cheyenne slipped into drow speed and ran toward the black metal altar, her fist raised high and clenched around the gold coin.
Even at enhanced speed, the Crown’s attack moved quickly. A purple light flashed behind the portal, and Ember sped through it just before it closed. The rest of it happened all at once.
The Crown screamed as her dark-light attack met L’zar’s blazing silver storm with a deafening crack. The drow woman’s other attack curved to follow Cheyenne as she brought her hand down toward the bowl shape on top of the metal anvil. Ember spread her arms and blasted pale violet light from every inch of her skin at once. The fae’s light consumed the Crown’s attack before it could strike Cheyenne. The Nimlothar tree hummed and filled the courtyard with a bright white light so blinding Cheyenne couldn’t even see her hand, but she felt the lip of the metal bowl beneath her fingers. Please tell me I didn’t miss.
The Crown screamed.
Chapter Ninety-Three
The blinding light and the echoes of the Crown’s screams died at the same time. The only sound echoing through the courtyard above the muted din of the battle above them was the hollow metallic tremble of the gold coin spinning in the center of the bowl on the Rahalma altar. It wobbled and finally fell on its side.
L’zar pulled himself up from where he’d been blasted back against the courtyard wall and chuckled.
The Crown lay in a heap of dark robes on the opposite side of the courtyard from him. She sucked in a furious breath and fought with her cloak to free herself before scrambling to her feet. Then she whirled on L’zar and hissed, “You!”
Breathing heavily, L’zar pushed himself up off the ground, gave her a mocking bow with his arms spread wide, and grinned. “Hello, Ba’rael.”
She snarled and studied his madly smiling face. “I would have felt you.”
“See, that’s quite amusing. Not having to deal with your shit Earthside gave me an enormous amount of free time to study the Weave. It was perfect, really. My daughter passing her trials. Me, just two steps away from spinning the last stolen thread to shield myself from you. And you, of course, overwhelming in your urgency to rip through worlds in order to get to her first.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Now look at you. All accounts frozen, and not a drop of magic at your disposal.”
Cheyenne pushed herself away from the altar and stared at the gold coin in the center of the bowl. It sparked, quickly melted, and was absorbed by the black metal. Two seconds later, every trace of it was gone.
Ember floated back slowly until she thumped into the wall, staring at Cheyenne. The halfling gave her a reassuring nod and returned her attention to the drow conversation.
“How dare you?” Ba’rael spat.
“Quite easily.”
“I’ll rip you apart, L’zar.” The Crown stormed toward him, seething with rage, and raised both her hands.
“Ah-ah.” L’zar lifted a long, slender finger and summoned a pulsing silver light at its tip. “If you fought me, Ba’rael, you’d be forfeiting so much more than your status.” He threw his head back and laughed. “I have my magic. You’ll just have to wait.”
Ba’rael turned her furious golden eyes on Cheyenne. “You’re as full of lies as he is.”
Cheyenne shook her head in disbelief. “Yeah, and you might be crazier.”
L’zar smoothed his disheveled white hair away from his face and chuckled again. “Checkmate.”
The Crown gritted her teeth and gazed at the high walls surrounding them. She roared in rage and spun, stalking quickly across the courtyard before spinning again to pace the other way. “This isn’t how it’s done, L’zar.”
“Oh, please. Don’t tell me how to play the game. This isn’t how you did it. Cheyenne isn’t remotely capable of following in your footsteps.”
“But she’ll follow yours, is that it?” Ba’rael fumed and shot Cheyenne another scathing glare. “You’ve always been a bottom-feeder, and you’re taking her down with you.”
“I consider that a co
mpliment.” L’zar folded his arms. “A lot of wonderful surprises drift down to the bottom before anyone even knows they’ve disappeared. Don’t worry. It might take some time, but you’ll figure out how to navigate it.”
The O’gúl Crown hissed, and her anger finally burst out of her in a scream. She doubled over and let it all out, fists clenched by her sides, until the echoing roar of the drow monarch’s fury shook the walls and sent a few pebbles tumbling down around them.
The Nimlothar flashed with purple light, and one frail violet leaf broke from its stem and spun through the air like a throwing star toward the drow woman. The leaf’s thin edge slashed her face, and Ba’rael’s screams cut off in surprise. She staggered backward, slapping a hand to her cheek and glancing down at the blood on her fingers as the leaf fluttered to the ground.
“Can’t argue with the tree, Ba’rael.” L’zar burst out laughing, and the Crown stomping her foot on the leaf to crush it into dust only made him laugh harder.
Cheyenne watched them with growing wariness. They’re both insane. What the hell is this?
When the Crown finished her tantrum, she straightened, smoothed a stray lock of white hair behind her ear, and lifted her chin with a deep breath. Her gaze flickered toward Cheyenne. “Name your price.”
L’zar raised a hand toward the Crown. “I believe this is something that requires a little more discussion. We didn’t come here with anything specific in mind.”
Cheyenne and Ember shared confused glances.
“Fine. Let’s discuss it.”
The halfling looked at the metal walls surrounding the arches of the walkways above them and shook her head. “I’m not discussing anything until you call off all the fighting.”
L’zar hummed in amusement. “Cheyenne!”
“I’m serious. Not while everyone’s up there killing each other and we’re safe down here.” I think.
“Well, you have to agree it’s a start.” He raised an eyebrow at the Crown.
Ba’rael rolled her eyes and flicked both wrists toward the high walls. The metal doors slid back into place with resounding clangs, and dark light raced around the fighting magicals overhead.
Every one of them froze, suspended in various stages of attacking and deflecting. The courtyard fell eerily silent.
“There. It’s been called off.” The Crown spread her arms. “Satisfied?”
Cheyenne glared at her. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, that’s what I’m willing to offer until the four of us come to some sort of understanding,” Ba’rael spat.
Ember blinked and pressed herself farther against the wall. “Oh, I’m good. Just tagged along to help with the last part. You guys can talk without me.”
L’zar and Ba’rael turned slowly to stare at the fae hovering an inch off the ground. L’zar burst out laughing and drew a hand down his cheek. The Crown’s nostrils flared. “I wasn’t talking about you, fae. You’re lucky you’re still standing.”
Ember flipped the O’gúl Crown the bird, and L’zar lost it all over again.
Cheyenne stepped slowly around the altar to join them. Before she could ask who the fourth was, a drow with a short-trimmed white goatee in a scarlet suit stepped through the open archway behind the Crown. His white hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and his golden gaze drifted between Cheyenne and L’zar.
“Ah. Ruuv’i.” L’zar spread his arms and approached the other drow as if he meant to wrap the man in a hug. The drow in the scarlet suit spared him a quick glance and looked away before stopping beside Ba’rael. “Pity. I was hoping for a more energetic reunion. It’s been so long.”
“Not long enough,” Ruuv’i muttered.
“Do you mean to negotiate too, then? Perhaps sweeten the deal for yourself?” L’zar stepped toward them. “If I were you, I’d leave the guilty to her fate and free myself.”
Ruuv’i’s nostrils flared. “I stand beside her. Call it moral support.”
Cheyenne approached the three other drow and snorted. “After everything she’s been doing, looks like you failed at that job a long time ago.”
“Ha.” L’zar pointed at her and grinned at the two scowling drow rulers. “And she comes with a sense of humor.”
“It’s as boorish and crude as yours.” Ba’rael shot him a condescending stare. “I find it tiring.”
“Good. A tired Crown is willing to listen. Pure necessity, isn’t that right?”
“Say what you came to say.”
“Cheyenne and I have come back for her to place her marandúr on the Rahalma, Ba’rael. She will claim what’s rightfully hers.”
“You have no right to speak for her.” The Crown looked at Cheyenne. “You’re the one who delivered the marandúr. What do you want?”
I have no idea what this is about. Cheyenne nodded toward L’zar. “What he said.”
L’zar sucked in a mocking gasp of surprise. “Look at that.”
“You never walked through the fires, L’zar.” The Crown whirled on him. “You never touched the waters beneath the bridge. None of this is for you to decide.”
“Ah. You’re forgetting the most important part, Ba’rael. Blood bonds with blood.”
“Blood is not the issue, Weaver! You made that perfectly clear when you betrayed the Crown and chose the other world over this one.”
“Well, my methods were a bit unorthodox, sure, but it worked out beautifully. For me, at least.”
Cheyenne stared at them, no longer part of the conversation. I heard half of this in the prophecy. If he says he wants to take her throne, I’m stepping in.
“Be that as it may,” Ba’rael said through clenched teeth, “you’re forgetting one small detail. Your daughter might have made it this far, but she isn’t finished yet. If her Nós Aní can’t be at this meeting, I’m afraid you’ve both come all this way to waste our time for nothing.”
Ember cleared her throat and drifted slowly away from the wall. “Nope. That’s me.”
The Crown’s mouth fell open, then she whirled on L’zar with renewed fury. “You knew this would happen.”
“I most certainly did not. That fae snuck through the nalís portal on her own.” L’zar chuckled and nodded for Ember to join them. “I must say, I’m impressed. Apparently, we’d have lost without you.”
Ember’s pink-tinged cheeks burned a dark violet shade as she floated toward the four drow watching her. She stopped beside Cheyenne and pressed her lips together in determination. “She needed me.”
Ba’rael’s only response was a furious hiss as Ruuv’i looked Ember up and down, staring for a moment longer at the inch between her feet and the stone floor.
“So.” L’zar clapped his hands together. “The old laws stand, Ba’rael. The turn of a new Cycle is pretty much the only option you have now. Beyond death, of course, which we all know you remember quite well. I can’t imagine feeding your predecessor to the deathflame is an easy memory to toss aside, no matter how long it’s been.”
Cheyenne bit her lip. I would not be surprised if she started breathing fire right now.
“Come on, then.” L’zar spread his arms at the Crown. “You can give it up freely, or I can take it from you.”
Ruuv’i’s gaze whipped toward the drow thief.
Ba’rael let out a dark, bitter chuckle and pointed at L’zar. “You forfeited your claim when you turned your back on me, L’zar. The old laws no longer apply to you.”
“Sure.” L’zar bowed his head and held the drow woman’s gaze. “But they apply to my daughter, and she’s done everything required of her to fill the empty seat.”
Cheyenne stared at him. “The what, now?”
“The seat, Cheyenne. Position. Throne. Would you like more synonyms?”
“No, hold on.”
“Stop.” L’zar lifted a finger and shot her an intense warning gaze. The Crown’s lips curled into a predatory sneer.
Because if I say the wrong thing, we lose. Got it.
Her father cl
asped his hands behind his back and smiled primly at the Crown and the drow man ruling at her side. “Cheyenne has a fortnight to decide what to do with you. She’ll take that home with her, and when she makes her decision, you’ll hear from us.”
“No,” Ba’rael growled. “No! I demand an answer now!”
“Too bad.” L’zar grinned at them.
“You’re a disgrace,” Ruuv’i spat. “You think you’re the clever one, Weaver? You’ll end up hanging from the flames when all this is over.”
L’zar spread his arms and bowed again. “Don’t we all?”
“Your path through the deathflame will rip you to pieces!” Ruuv’i shouted, thrusting a long finger at the drow thief. “Everything you think you’ve accomplished is nothing!”
“That’s enough,” the Crown snapped. Ruuv’i growled and clenched his fists, but he didn’t say anything else. “A fortnight, then. That’s plenty of time for both of us.”
“If you say so.”
Ba’rael looked at the frozen magicals locked in battle around the edge of the courtyard and flicked her fingers toward them. The bright light freezing the combatants shuddered and disappeared, and both O’gúl soldiers and rebel magicals stepped away from each other, swaying and blinking, disoriented.
“Hear me!” The Crown’s voice exploded from the bottom of the courtyard and echoed more than loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Put down your arms and return to your posts. We are finished. So says your Crown!”
The orc soldiers cast their monarch confused gazes and slowly filtered back through the arches into the adjoining corridors, leaving the dazed rebels alone to recover from the spell from which they’d just been released.
“No one hurts them,” Cheyenne said quickly, pointing at L’zar’s rebels. “I swear, if you can’t hold to that, you’ll hear from me in sooner than a fortnight.”
L’zar chuckled, and the Crown turned a disgusted glare onto the halfling. “You have no idea how this works, and you still invoke the old laws. I should have crushed you against that tree.”
“Well, I’m a pretty tough nut to crack.” Cheyenne raised her eyebrows at the Crown, and the drow woman gestured toward the now-open passageways lining the courtyard.