by Martha Carr
“Yes, Maji.” The girl bent to pick up the basket of Cheyenne’s things and cradled it in her arms.
R’mahr nodded. “Unless there’s anything else you wanted while we’re here, Cheyenne?”
“Just one more thing, actually.” The halfling tapped her fist against her belly and peered down the avenue toward the other end. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m starving.”
She brushed past the other magicals moving about through the marketplace. Follow the trail of anything that smells normal.
Behind her, R’mahr stuck a finger in the air and took a step after her. “Ah, yes. I could show you—”
Yadje put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “You are staying right here. We have leftovers at home.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Cheyenne returned to the troll family and popped the last bite of that barbeque sausage on a stick into her mouth. R’mahr’s hopeful expression fell when he saw her hands were empty.
“So much better,” she said around her mouthful and sucked the crust of spices off her fingers. “I tried to be fast.”
“Too fast, maybe.” R’mahr chuckled when his wife nudged him in the ribs. “Shall we head back?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Excellent.” Tentatively, the troll man steered his family back through the crowd toward the far end of the avenue. “This has been an eye-opening experience for us, Cheyenne. Thank you for letting us tag along.”
“You’re the ones showing me around, so I should be thanking you.” The halfling tried to ignore the odd stares coming at her again from the vendors and customers who dared to look at her. A goblin woman veered out of her path and put a good six feet between them. That’s new.
“Cheyenne, we can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have you with us. Our very own phér móre, it feels like.” Yadje turned around and shot the half-drow a genuine smile. “A drow.”
“Yeah, friends are pretty great, huh?”
“Oh, yes. But we don’t mean just as a friend, Cheyenne.” R’mahr reached the closed elevator doors first and waited for the rest of them to catch up. “That’s very good for us, of course, but think what this means for the rest of us who made the crossing.”
The troll couple gazed at her expectantly.
Pretend like you know what’s going on. “Just think.” Cheyenne nodded and reached down to take the basket out of Bryl’s arms. “Thanks for taking care of my stuff, kid.”
The girl grinned.
“We knew you were special the first time you came through our front door,” Yadje added wistfully. Cheyenne almost snorted. “But now, seeing you around everyone else down here, the way you dealt with those…those…”
“Scoundrels,” her husband finished.
The troll woman sighed. “There’s still a chance, Cheyenne, that some of the old prophecies from Ambar’ogúl are finally coming true.”
The halfling jerked her head up from where she’d been making faces at Bryl. “Prophecies?”
“Well, they’re all muddled and mixed together, aren’t they?” R’mahr shook his head. “But the big ones, yes.”
The elevator doors let out a groan when they opened, and Cheyenne waited for the troll family to step inside before she followed. “I don’t have a lot of experience with prophecies. What do they say? The big ones.”
The troll man leaned back against the wall of the elevator as the doors closed again. The shiny metal box started its ascent with a little jerk. “Oh, the usual. We’ve all heard them from time to time, passed around in gatherings and ceremonies. Ambar’ogúl split in half, rotting from the inside out. An outsider bonded by blood to take their place within the heart.”
Cheyenne frowned. “Muddled and mixed together is right.”
“It talks about the Crown becoming its own undoing and the savior of a realm all at the same time.” R’mahr’s eyes narrowed. “For so long, Cheyenne, it seemed like the only parts of any prophecy that came true were the ones nobody really wanted to hear.”
“The darkest parts, yes?” Yadje nodded slowly, pulling her daughter closer with an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Drow are not well-known for their altruism, yes? Or heroism. But something about you…” The troll woman’s smile bloomed again. “Something about you makes it seem possible. That this might be it. A drow halfling breaking the cycle of her kind to help heal the rift.”
“The cycle of my kind?” Cheyenne readjusted the leather case under her arm. New cycle of ascendance. That’s what he said. “To be honest, I don’t know enough about my kind to break any cycle, and there’s not a lot of literature floating around for me to brush up on my drow history.”
The trolls just gave her thin, sympathetic smiles.
“So, who wears the O’gúl Crown now?”
“I hate her,” Bryl mumbled.
“Careful, my love.” Her mother pulled her a little closer.
Cheyenne nodded at the girl. “Because she’s the reason you guys had to make the crossing, right?”
Bryl nodded slowly. “She doesn’t—”
“We left that behind when we chose a life here,” R’mahr interrupted, sliding his arm around his wife’s shoulders. The hope hadn’t left their eyes, but they looked a lot more disturbed than a minute ago. “It’s best not to talk about such things. Besides, all this chatter of prophecies is only speculation. Please forget we brought it up.”
Glancing at them, the halfling offered a tiny smile and didn’t push. No way am I forgetting that little nugget.
“Oh.” Yadje rummaged in her giant bag for her illusion ring and her husband’s bracelet. The moment the jewelry slipped on, two adult trolls became blond, blue-eyed humans with matching smiles. R’mahr muttered a quick word and flicked his fingers toward his daughter. Bryl’s illusion shimmered and took over. “I’ll hold that for you if you like.”
“Thanks.” Cheyenne handed over her basket of goodies, then pulled the Heart of Midnight out of her pocket to tie the chain around her neck again. In an instant, the vibrating rush of her drow magic disappeared, snuffed out like a candle under an overturned jar. Worse than holding back a sneeze. The pale, black-haired Goth chick shrugged. “Gotta do what you gotta do, right?”
“It’s the only way to keep going.” Yadje returned the basket and ran a hand over the top of Bryl’s blonde head. “Whatever you have to do, Cheyenne, I believe you’ll succeed.”
“You know, I’m lucky enough to not have had a shortage of that sentiment in my life.” Cheyenne wrinkled her nose and smiled at the troll girl. “Still feels good to hear it.”
The elevator came to a clunky, thudding halt, and the doors opened. The magicals disguised as humans and the halfling stepped out of the elevator. Tony stood behind his counter and watched them expressionlessly.
“Have a good one, Tony.” Cheyenne waved as she passed.
“Not likely.” Tony scooped a massive spoonful of bright-pink Fro-Yo up to his mouth and shoveled it all in.
Once they’d stepped outside into the sunny afternoon, R’mahr turned and extended his hand toward the halfling. “An excellent afternoon together, Cheyenne.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She took his hand and chuckled. “Thanks for all the help.”
“We did very little. But you’re welcome.”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” Yadje rummaged in her purse again and pulled out a small brown glass jar with an unrecognizable symbol scratched on the lid in pencil. “R’mahr said you were looking for healing salves and whatnot. Take this.”
“Wow. I don’t need the whole thing—”
“I just made a new batch at home.”
Bryl wrinkled her nose. “She keeps them in my room.”
“Well, that’s because your room gets the best sunlight, doesn’t it?” The troll woman blinked at the halfling and gestured at the jar she’d nestled into Cheyenne’s basket. “Don’t eat it, but it works very well with most non-life-threatening wounds.”
“Anything less than a knife woun
d, pretty much.”
Yadje jabbed her husband in the ribs and glanced quickly at their daughter. “What are you doing talking about knife wounds? When is that a part of daily conversation?”
“It’s just an example.” R’mahr hunched his shoulders and gestured toward Cheyenne, chuckling. “You don’t think a friend like her has seen the wrong end of a knife?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cheyenne laughed. “No knives so far, but it’s good advice. I appreciate this too.” She nodded at the jar on top of her basket, then turned toward the parking lot. “Can I give you guys a ride?”
“Oh, no. We’re not that far, Cheyenne. Just a few more things to do today. Have fun with all your…work.” R’mahr pointed at her basket, then wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders again.
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you guys later.”
“Bye, Cheyenne.” Bryl waved, and her parents repeated the gesture.
The halfling crossed the street toward the parking lot, miscellaneous ingredients rattling around in the overflowing basket. She had to set it down to pull out her keyless fob and unlock the car, then everything went into the back seat.
When she got behind the wheel, she flicked the Heart of Darkness pendant resting against her chest. Then she stuffed it down under her sweatshirt and started the car. It’s nonstop today.
* * *
The halfling heard the voices coming from behind her apartment door the second she stepped out of the elevator. Mostly, it was Ember’s laughter. And some dude in there making her laugh.
When she opened the door, she found Ember sitting beside one of the black leather armchairs. In it was their new neighbor Matthew. They both turned to look at her, and Matthew grinned. “Hey, Cheyenne.”
“’Sup?” With a quick nod, the halfling turned left and hurried toward her bedroom at the other end of the apartment. Right. Like a basket of crazy magical stuff and this leather case under my arm aren’t gonna catch the guy’s attention.
Ember and Matthew muttered something to each other, but Cheyenne was too busy jerking open the bedroom door to pay much attention. Then she was too busy staring. “No way.”
The basket of supplies went slowly to the polished hardwood floors, followed by the case holding the magical web. Cheyenne took a few more steps into the room and laughed. “She freakin’ did it.”
Black-out curtains hung over the single window on the right. A black chest of drawers sat in the far right corner, with silver skulls on each drawer instead of knobs or handles. In the left corner was a massive Victorian-style wingback chair, the armrests studded with silver buttons and the rest of the upholstery done up with black lace around the edges. Beside that was a tall standing lamp, and the lampshade was an inverted chandelier with sheer purple fabric draped over it. The queen-sized bed hadn’t been changed out, but a canopy of black satin and black tulle fell from the ceiling to hang over the side of the bed.
Laughing again, Cheyenne went to the bed first and poked her head inside the canopy. The head of the bed was covered in black and silver pillows of lace, velvet, and satin. One had an intricate dagger printed on the front. Another had a very fancy design of a disembodied hand flipping the bird. With a chuckle, the halfling spread her hands on the comforter. Christmas came early, didn’t it?
“Purple fucking velvet. Ha.” She spun around and headed back to the door, reaching out to flip the light switch on. The intricately curving light switch case with more skulls on it made her pause, then she turned on the light. The purple chandelier only gave off enough of a glow to confirm what she already knew.
“Em. You for real made me a—” Cheyenne stopped when she saw the back of Matthew’s head rising over the back of the armchair. Shit. I really don’t like people in my space.
“You like it?” Ember wheeled away from the armchair so she could get a better view of her friend’s reaction.
“That’s an understatement, and we can talk about it later.” The halfling couldn’t hold back a smirk, then she moved farther across the living room to look at Matthew and raise an eyebrow. “Looks like you two are having a lovely chat.”
“Just thought I’d stop by and see if I could help.”
“He helped hang those paintings.” Ember pointed at the wall beside the front door.
“Those are kinda cool.” Cheyenne tilted her head to one side and then the other, squinting at the splotches of black, gray, and yellow paint. “What are they?”
“Abstract.” Ember shrugged. “I like them.”
“That’s the only thing that matters when you’re the one putting it all together, huh?” The halfling smiled at her friend, glanced at Matthew, then jolted and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Crap. I have that meeting in like twenty minutes.”
“Oh, yeah. Good luck with that one.” Ember shot her a thumbs-up.
“Not sure luck’s gonna help me with this, but I’ll take it anyway.” Cheyenne picked her backpack up off the floor beside the couch and double-checked to make sure the copper legacy box was still inside.
“Who has meetings on a Saturday at six o’clock?” Matthew asked.
Slinging the backpack over her shoulder, the halfling spread her arms and walked backward toward the door. “Question I’ve been asking myself for two days, Matthew. Just can’t figure it out. Go ahead and eat dinner without me, Em. Save something if you want. I’ve been weirdly busy today.”
“No problem.”
Cheyenne spun around and opened the door, then peered over her shoulder and muttered, “Be good.”
Ember’s laugh came through the door even after the halfling shut it. Then Cheyenne was off again. Maybe I should think about building a Goth-box on wheels. This back and forth thing is killing me.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Cheyenne pulled out her phone just as she reached the door to Conference Room A in the Computer Sciences building on the VCU campus. One minute to spare. That’s gotta be good enough for these people.
When she opened the door, all five of her professors sat around the conference table. Four of them gave the halfling a tight smile; the only one who looked happy to see her was Mattie.
Hersh scowled at his wristwatch. “We appreciate your punctuality.”
“So do I.” Lowering her backpack to the floor, Cheyenne pulled out the closest chair—which happened to be at the head of the table—and sat. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Great.” LePlant clapped her hands and interlaced her fingers before leaning forward. “As you read in that email you received on Thursday, Cheyenne, we’ve all noticed that you’ve been having a little difficulty making it to your classes on time.”
“Or at all.” Hersh snorted.
Mattie shot the man a warning glance, but he sat back in his chair and folded his arms.
“Whatever is going on in your personal life is clearly drawing your focus away from your graduate studies.”
No shit.
LePlant adjusted the thin silver frames of her glasses and cleared her throat. “Now, this is grad school. You made the decision to apply, you were accepted, and you’re obviously an adult who makes her own decisions, just like the rest of us. We don’t normally sit down like this with graduate students who find themselves farther over their heads than they expected.”
Cheyenne sat back in her chair. “I’m not in over my head.”
“Oh, we’re well aware. Your startling ability to predict assignments, not to mention the advanced quality of your work, is the reason we even considered having this meeting.”
“We want you here,” Dawley added. “At this school. In this program. We want you to receive your master’s degree, and we’re hoping that’s what you still want too.”
“Of course it is.” The halfling gazed around the table at her insanely boring professors before settling her gaze on Mattie. The woman flashed her a brilliant smile, her blazing green eyes widening just a little.
“So, Cheyenne,” LePlant continued, “w
e’ve put our heads together and come up with a solution we think works well. You’ll have a different schedule. Which, I might add, is imperative for you to keep if you want to continue with this program. No emails apologizing for not making it. And the five of us can rest easy knowing one of the most talented students to enter the Computer Sciences program at this school is still pursuing a degree she very much deserves.”
“What’s the schedule?” I’m not agreeing to anything until I know what it is.
“You’ll be moved to three days a week instead of five. One class a day, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.” LePlant’s gaze darted around the table before she took a deep breath and nodded. “And you’ll be teaching it.”
“I’ll be…” Cheyenne snorted and choked on a laugh. “I’ll be what now?”
“Teaching undergraduate classes.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if you really want me teaching a bunch of freshmen how to do anything.”
“We do, actually.” Beckwith drummed his fingers on the armrests of his chair. “It’s not a one-hundred-level class, either. Undergraduate Advanced Programming. There’s a syllabus, of course, but we’re willing to move things around if you feel you can improve the teaching material.”
“Oh, I can.” The words spilled out of her, and Mattie chuckled before covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers. “But that’s not the point.”
“Feel free to make your point at any time, then,” Hersh grumbled.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m not a teacher. I don’t have any qualifications for that. Or experience. You put me up there in front of a room of advanced whatever, and I don’t know if anyone else is gonna understand what I’m saying.”
“That’s part of the reason we came to this decision, Cheyenne.” LePlant nodded. “The best way to learn is to have to teach. There might not be much left for you to learn at this school, and we’ve all come to that realization. If you want to keep pursuing your master’s here, this is the way you have to do it. There aren’t any other options.”