The Drow Hath Sent Thee

by Martha Carr

  Ember grinned. “She made it for me, Cheyenne. I’m still trying to get that through my head.”

  “Just don’t practice with synced spells before I have a chance to get out of this bed, okay?”

  “Got it. For now, I’m good with tapping into the freakin’ walls and sending messages. So cool.”

  The room lapsed into a slightly tense silence, and Cheyenne glanced from face to face. If they’re waiting for me to say something profound, they came to the wrong drow.

  Chapter Four

  “So.” Cheyenne slapped her hands on her thighs, bringing a momentary twinge into her doubly wounded hip, and looked at Persh’al. “I already made my one-and-done first declaration as Crown. What about you?”

  “Well,” the troll said with a chuckle, “I’m not really expecting you to jump on the bandwagon with this or anything.”

  Cheyenne closed her eyes. “Please don’t tell me you changed your mind.”

  “What? No way. Are you kidding? I wouldn’t give this up for all the gourmet angarfat in Hangivol. And I never thanked you for, you know, picking me. I know I wasn’t your first choice, kid, but I’m happy to have made it onto the list.”

  “Sure. You were in the right courtyard at the right time.”

  Persh’al’s nervous smile faded. “You mean, like a random—”

  “No.” Cheyenne laughed. “I’m screwing with you, man. Of course, I picked you, and I meant everything I said to the Four-Pointed Star, by the way. Sorry I didn’t put the pieces together sooner. I could have asked you in private without all the pressure.”

  “Right.” His eyes widened, and he stared at her like she’d asked him to take the job all over again. “You’re killin’ me, kid. You know that?”

  She grinned and pointed at him. “And you’re stalling.”

  “What?”

  “First order of business, Crown. What was it?”

  “Well, it…”

  Elarit and Maleshi exchanged knowing glances before the general cleared her throat. “He ordered a myrein.”

  Cheyenne tried to choke back a laugh, but it spewed out of her anyway.

  Persh’al frowned. “It’s not that funny.”

  Corian chuckled softly. “It is when you’re the only one not laughing about it.”

  “I’m not the only one.” The blue troll turned toward Elarit, but she was in the process of trying to cover up her soft laughter too. “Oh, come on! If it’s so hilarious, why’d you agree to it?”

  The troll woman slipped her arm through his and raised her eyebrows. “Can’t I be impressed and amused at the same time?”

  “I guess you can.”

  Ember spread her arms. “Somebody wanna tell me what a myrein is?”

  “O’gúleesh wedding, Em.”

  The fae girl leaned toward her friend in surprise, then turned her head to squint at Persh’al. “Who’s getting married?”

  Elarit lifted a purple finger. “That would be us.”

  Ember’s eyes widened. “Oh. You’re the secret girlfriend.”

  “Secret?” Corian shot Persh’al a questioning frown. “Not what I heard.”

  “You didn’t hear shit, nightstalker.”

  “Oh, I hear plenty.” Corian’s lips split into his intensely feral grin. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut.”

  Persh’al froze. “Wait, you knew?”

  “If you’re talking about your refusal to follow one of L’zar’s less insane but still stupid orders,” Maleshi added, “specifically the one to abandon Elarit to her fate without you, then yes, Persh’al. We both knew.”

  The blue troll’s mouth opened and closed without sound, and he turned his shocked gaze on Cheyenne.

  “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t say a word.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  The general shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t getting in the way, and telling L’zar would’ve turned it into something that did.”

  Ember snorted. “And it would’ve made them serious hypocrites if they snitched on you.”

  Both nightstalkers turned slowly to give her matching warning glances.

  “What?” She spread her arms. “I figured this was confession time. All secrets out in the open, ‘cause L’zar’s not coming back, right?”

  “That’s hardly a secret, Ember.” Persh’al pointed at Maleshi and Corian. “But hey, good to know I’m not the only one who thinks half of L’zar’s orders are bullshit.”

  Corian’s smile faded. “Careful.”

  “Or what? L’zar’s gonna lose it when he hears about what’s happening today, and he can’t do a fell-damn thing about it, ‘cause guess who’s the O’gúl Crown now?” Persh’al rolled his shoulders back and covered the back of Elarit’s hand, which was wrapped around his forearm, with his. “So it doesn’t matter. No more secrets, but thanks for having my back, I guess.”

  Maleshi elbowed Corian in the side. He rolled his eyes and muttered, “We’re all on the same side, troll.”

  “You know, that’s what I thought.” Grinning, Persh’al pointed at Cheyenne. “So how ‘bout it, kid? You gonna be there, or what?”

  “Be where?”

  “At the ceremony.”

  “When is it?”

  “Three hours.”

  “Jesus.” Cheyenne laughed and almost tried running a hand through her hair again before remembering how impossible it was. “Why?”

  “First royal decree, kid. You don’t drag out something like that.”

  Elarit’s beaming smile faded slightly when she met Cheyenne’s gaze. “And we’ve waited long enough.”

  “No, right. Sure. I’ve never been to a wedding, so I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do, or whatever.”

  Maleshi cocked her head. “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope.” The bitter smile she gave the general brought on a small, ignorable headache. “You think Bianca Summerlin wanted to drag her little halfling kid along and run the risk of me blowing up the bride and groom ‘cause I couldn’t have a second piece of cake?”

  Ember snorted. “That does sound like something you’d have done as a kid.”

  “Very funny.”

  “It’s not like a human wedding, kid,” Corian added. “In any culture.”

  Cheyenne frowned at the new troll Crown, then shrugged. “Then I guess I’m starting with a blank slate.”

  Persh’al’s eyes lit up. “That’s a yes, right? Sounds like a yes.”

  “Yeah, fine.” She tossed a dismissive hand toward him but couldn’t quite hide a small smile. “I’ll be there to watch or whatever.”

  “Right on, kid.”

  “It’ll be a little more than watching,” Corian added and folded his arms. “At least for you, Cheyenne.”

  “No, he asked me to be there, not to participate.”

  “It’s a simple process, but it has to be done. As far as Ambar’ogúl is concerned, and I do mean the world and not its inhabitants, you’re still the Crown.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Old laws, kid.” Maleshi shrugged.

  “You can’t use that as an excuse for everything.”

  “Except for when it applies to everything.” Corian nodded at her, then turned to the door. “I’ll walk you through it when we get to that point. And after the myrein, we still have a lot of plans to make. Loopholes to find in the old laws so we can make this possible, and nailing down how we’re gonna put everything back together.”

  Cheyenne spread her arms. “And yet, we’re getting ready for an O’gúleesh wedding twelve hours after our greatest victory.”

  After opening the door, he looked at her over his shoulder and smiled. “We did what we came here to do. That’s worth celebrating.”

  “Right.”

  Persh’al and Elarit turned to leave the room. The troll man pointed at her again. “We’ll see you there. I’m serious, Cheyenne. We better see you there.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Maleshi winked at the h
alfling and followed everyone else into the hall without a word. Then it was just Cheyenne and Ember.

  “Well, that was a surprise.” Ember stared at the closed door. “No one bothered to tell me what all the celebrating was about. I just made an apparently uneducated guess.”

  “New Cycle party isn’t technically wrong, Em. They just decided to tack an O’gúleesh wedding onto it for fun.”

  “You think it’ll be fun?”

  “No idea. After what we’ve seen here, I’d bet on the fighting pits being part of it.”

  “Then yeah.” Ember nodded vigorously. “Sounds like loads of fun.”

  “I still don’t get how you’re so into those fights, Em. Especially as a healer.”

  “Hey, I’m pureblooded O’gúleesh through and through.” The fae girl spread her arms. “Just spent my whole life Earthside until a couple of weeks ago. Lemme tell ya, I had no idea what I was missing.”

  “Glad you’re finding ways to stay entertained.” Cheyenne rolled her neck from one shoulder to the other, then arched her back as far as it would go before her darktongue-numbed shoulders protested with more than a few twinges. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around what’s next.”

  “A serious party is what’s next, halfling.”

  “Apparently, yeah. I’m talking about all the other stuff that I left unfinished Earthside before we came back to storm the fortress. My mom’s still in a magical coma, and I’m gonna have to come up with a way to do justice to this whole ‘drow royalty on Earth’ thing.”

  Ember pointed at her. “So, you didn’t forget.”

  “I don’t generally forget anything as big as that, Em.”

  “No, I mean, Corian tried to shove those same reminders down my throat, like he thinks everything you know disappeared into thin air when you passed out.”

  Cheyenne snorted. “That’s Corian for you. No, L’zar made it perfectly, annoyingly clear that if I gave up the throne here, I’d be taking on something like it Earthside. Not sure why that’s a thing when there hasn’t been anyone ruling magicals on the other side of the Border, but I have a feeling anyone I ask would tell me something about the old laws and that I have to deal with it.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “Right. I don’t know, I have a feeling I’ll be starting with the FRoE when I step into my Earthside-royalty boots. And yeah, Em, I’m talkin’ huge, heavy, lace-up black combat boots. That’s the only thing that works.”

  Laughing, Ember shook her head and floated away from the door. “If anyone can rock ‘em, you can.”

  “I know, right?” Cheyenne watched her friend with a tired smile, and when Ember reached the bedroom door, she added, “For some reason, I’m thinking you probably wanna stay on this side a little longer this time, right?”

  Ember turned around with a small frown. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a feeling. The responsible-drow-magical kind, anyway.”

  “Oh. I mean, yeah. There’s a lotta work to do here. Helping Venga figure out how to reverse the blight is kinda high on the list, too.”

  “I know. I’d stick around longer too, but I gotta get back to crash that meeting between Colonel Thomas and the loyalists over there. You’ll come back with me for that, at least, right?”

  Ember wrinkled her nose, smiling in confusion. “Duh. I like it here, Cheyenne, but Earth’s my home. And I already told Corian I’m the one who follows you back and forth across the border, so it’s not like I can go back on that and still have magicals take me seriously around here.”

  “Cool.”

  “Get a little more rest before this giant-ass party, okay?” Ember pointed at the injection canister on the table by the bed. “If things start to feel weird, pop another one of those suckers in wherever feels like a good spot. If you can inject it in the wounds, though, that’s the most effective.”

  “I probably won’t. Kinda starting to think I have an Achilles hip.”

  Ember chuckled and opened the door. “You do you, halfling. Oh, hey, and if you need anything…” She gave Cheyenne a goofy grin and tapped the activator behind her ear. “Like texting but a million times better.”

  “Yeah, I know. Hey, this feels kinda familiar, doesn’t it?”

  “I know you’re not talking about both of us having activators.”

  “No.” Cheyenne scooted herself back along the bed so she could rest against the wall. “I mean one of us laid up recovering from something, and the other one rushing out the door with reminders to call or text if anything happens.”

  Ember’s eyes widened with exaggerated realization as she nodded. “Yeah! Now you know how annoying it is, huh?”

  “Okay, get out.”

  Chapter Five

  Two hours after Ember left Cheyenne’s temporary recovery room somewhere in the Crown’s fortress, the halfling reached for the injection canister and jammed it into the flesh above her hip. The warm wave of euphoria washed over her, and she sank back into the pillows to stare at the ceiling with a dazed smile.

  You’d think I would’ve built up a tolerance to darktongue by now. But holy shit, this stuff works.

  It took another ten minutes for the buzz to settle out of her system, but the pain in her shoulders and hips was almost nonexistent.

  She didn’t know how much longer she lay sprawled out on the bed before someone knocked on the door. “Yeah?”

  The door creaked open, and Lumil slunk into the room. For the first time since they’d met, the goblin woman looked genuinely embarrassed as she stepped forward with a pile of cream-colored cloth with O’gúleesh runes embroidered in bright-orange on the trim. She wore the same clothes.

  Cheyenne propped herself up on her elbows and snorted. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “It’s tradition, okay? For the whole myrein shebang.” Lumil extended her arms and looked down with wide yellow eyes at the folded outfit resting there. “And these are for you.”

  “Very funny.” Cheyenne pushed herself all the way up and scooted toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll give you credit for going all-in on this one, but I’m not buying it.”

  “I’m serious.” Lumil scowled. “Everybody’s wearin’ these things today.”

  “Not me.” The halfling eyed the flowing light-colored fabric and wrinkled her nose. “Not today or ever.”

  “Just take the fell-damn clothes already, will ya?”

  “Nope.”

  The goblin woman’s lower jaw jutted out in frustration as she aimed one of Cheyenne’s deadpan stares right back at her. “You have to.”

  “Wrong again. I don’t dress up in white.”

  “Hey, I’m not asking you to change your whole fell-damn style, kid. It’s one day.”

  “Look, if Bianca Summerlin couldn’t get me to ditch the black dress for an all-white-attire summer gala, your chances are a hell of a lot lower. And I’m sure an exception can be made for the former O’gúl Crown who stepped down to run things Earthside. Don’t you think?”

  “Whatever.” Lumil tossed the clothes unceremoniously on the table beside the bed. The injection canister toppled onto the floor and rolled beneath the elevated mattress. The goblin woman’s eyes widened. “Looks like you got the party started in here a little early.”

  “The party’s been going on for hours already, but nice try.” Cheyenne pushed herself off the bed, gritting her teeth as she knelt and felt around beneath the bed for the canister. When she found it, she stood again with a grunt and shook the canister at Lumil. “This thing’s for medicinal purposes only, by the way.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s what they all say.” The goblin woman folded her arms and watched Cheyenne collect her new black trenchcoat from the foot of the bed. “Don’t let me catch you using that thing every twenty minutes.”

  With a snort, Cheyenne gingerly shrugged on her trenchcoat, then slipped the canister into one of the large, deep pockets. Her fingers quickly found the silver coil of her activator in the other
pocket, and she nodded. “Not even remotely what I’m into, but if I was, do you really think you’d be able to stop me?”

  Lumil unfolded her arms, her green hands clenching into fists as she stared at Cheyenne from beneath the tuft of yellow hair falling into her eyes. “I think your brief moment of O’gúl rule is startin’ to go to your head. What are you doing?”

  Cheyenne’s eyes were wide, her cheeks puffing out slightly as she pressed her lips together and held back a laugh.

  “What’s wrong?” Lumil looked her up and down. “You gonna hurl or something? I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!”

  The halfling laughed and dropped back onto the edge of the bed. “I can’t…”

  “You know what? Hand over the can of idiot juice.” The goblin woman thrust out a hand and waited. “Right now.”

  Cheyenne forced her laughter back down. “Lumil, I’m sorry, okay?” Another laugh bubbled up inside her. “I can’t take you seriously in that getup!”

  Lumil spread her arms and glanced down at the flowing, cream-colored tunic and pants. “It’s tradition!”

  “You look like you dressed up as a yogi for Halloween.”

  “You’re a real pain in my ass right now, you know that?”

  “But you’re missing some mala beads and henna.” Lumil scoffed, and Cheyenne stood again and pulled out the darktongue canister again, tipping it toward the goblin woman. “This might help with the pain in your ass, though.”

  Lumil stared at the canister and couldn’t help but chuckle at the joke. “Screw you, halfling.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Cheyenne stuck the thing back in her pocket and spread her arms. “I’m guessing you’re supposed to take me wherever we’re going after I joined the cult and put on the new getup, right?”

  “Fucking come on, then.” Rolling her eyes, the goblin woman trudged across the room and jerked open the door. “You’re gonna feel like a real asshole when we get there and you’re the only one not showing respect like everyone else.”